Sergei Petrov

I sat at the bar downing my 9th pink Whitney of the night, before slamming down the glass and calling for another one. I was pissed and beyond tired of Sergei and his bullshit. I gave him plenty of chances no matter what he did or what I felt. Yet each time it ended with me at the same bar doing the same damn thing. Getting wasted. I felt the men around me staring; I was wearing the most skimpy dress I could. I looked like a hooker who threw her pussy out to the streets for extra change. And that’s exactly why I did that. It was time for him to feel the way I feel everyday. For him to be upset. For him to know I am not some weak girl who needs a damn knight