Tara oozed confidence as she entered the bar, every eye was on her and she goddamn knew it. Being pretty had its perks no male bouncer could say no to a girl like her. Tara was 5ft6 with a false tan applied to perfection along with the lashings of makeup she’d spent hours applying on her face. Her green eyes were the same shade as seaweed and her hair matched the colour of sand, to put it simply she was stunning. She bit her plump bottom lip and could practically taste the screaming red shade that decorated her mouth.
Tara’s life wasn’t about anything but vanity. She craved attention and the tiny strapless canary yellow dress she was wearing along with four inch black heels proved this. The urge for fame seemed to be written in her blood and if that meant getting her fine ass into the bed of the most successful and recognisable men of Hollywood she would do it.
Taking one of her amazingly manicured hands down to the bottom of her dress she pulled it down so it could cover up that money maker of hers, I mean a girl needs to leave something to the imagination.
It wasn’t long until she was approached by a man who could open doors for her, a man who had a career and a man who was a paparazzi magnet; another football star, a quarterback perhaps. He didn’t have to say much and soon she found herself being discreetly taken to a limo. Every other footballer often threw some money at her and covered up the bedtime fumble but as she sat nibbling the ear of the possible link to her stardom she hoped he would just want her, give her a good life and take her far away and change her; because Tara didn’t want to do this anymore but she knew tomorrow would have her usual day awaiting her and she could already feel her mascara bleed.