It's fashion week in New York, and a highly sought-after model is looking for a walking-talking, breathing sex toy. Just a normal guy, either a local or someone on vacation, who'll be in absolute awe to spend an evening with a worldfamous model. He'd likely not mind that she's objectifying him to the n'th degree. She does not need to like him - as long as he's hot, starstruck and easy going, she'll have fun with him. Not a domme necessarily, but certainly confident and assertive in what she's into. If she lets him take control, it's only because that's what she wants. Or to throw him a bone after she fucked his rod into dust.

Notes: Limited 3rd narrators; Consensual stories only; Visual references for characters/outfits and places appreciated; longer (4-8 para) format preferred; PM only

"Left. Left. Left. Right. Left. Left. Le-wait a sec. Is he cute?" Cassandra's index finger pushed against the wrist of the stressed-out make-up artist behind her. For a moment, the young woman stopped, tipping the brush away from her subject's eyes. The blonde model leaned forward in her tiny chair.
"Next photo. Next photo. He is cute. Swipe on him."
"You call that cute? Hunkydunk looks like he'd make your spine pop out your throat, girl."
"Saying that like it'd be a bad thing..."

Francis sighed - he loved his best friend, but Cassandra could be a tad much for most people. Her stylist was visibly uncomfortable behind the two of them, unsure whether she was to continue the procedure or not. That was until a stagehand began shouting through the room - the show would start in thirty minutes. No time to waste. With a firmer grip, she pulled Cassandra's shoulders back against the chair and continued her work. But that didn't stop the model from her "research", as she called it.
"And?"
"And what, Cass?"
"Was it a match?"
"They were ALL matches! Every guy you swiped right on was a match. Don't you dare act surprised, bish!"

Cassandra gave her best friend a wink, much to the chagrin of her stylist who almost ran the brush all the way up to her eyebrow. This time, it was Francis who gestured for his friend to stay still. He scrolled through the list of matches, a sigh escaping him as he saw how many messages already popped up. After a minute, he had enough: He closed the app for a moment to turn off the notifications.
"I don't get why you don't just ask someone to get you into Raya. Wait... you have it installed? Girl, why am I swiping on Kyles when you could have Afflecks?"
"One's a first name, the other's a last name. Doesn't work well, Franny. Either way, Raya's for dates. I just want someone to, how'd you say it? Something something popping spines. The guys on Raya expect a chance at a relationship. Some bloke from Tinder? He'll know he just got lucky."
"Girl, you could do better."
"Just tell me which one hits the hot-to-dangerous ratio aaaall the way on the hot end. Or the closest to it, at least."

For a few minutes, it was quiet. Cassandra's stylist rejoiced, finishing up the look that was printed on the style sheet pinned to the mirror in front of them. By the end of it, another stagehand had come over, multiple times actually, to ask whether they'd finally get her to the dressing racks. The runway show was starting soon, and Cass was one of the last models to finish their styling. Which was not the biggest issue - she was closing the event, after all, and had the most time backstage of all the talents. Still, there was no reason to stress out the fashion students that interned for these brands. She got up from her chair, Francis followed, holding the phone back up to her nose.
There he was again - Hunkydunk the spinepopper. Cassandra gave her friend a nod, and as she unbuttoned her blouse behind a slim curtain, she spoke up again.
"Something like... Hey, how's it going handsome? Still at work, but I got a few hours to spare later. You free?"
"Girl, I met more polite people on Grindr, I swear. You're just a fuckboi with tits."
"I've got tits? When did that happen?", Cass shot back with a wide grin, giving Francis another nod - yes, she wanted him to reach out to her handsome target. So he did, typed exactly what she asked of him, shaking his head in second-hand embarrassment.
"I could have just sent him an eggplant with a question mark, actually..."
"Would have been on-brand, but it's too late now, bish. I will excuse myself now though, Tobias just walked in and I need to hide somewhere!"

With that, Francis was gone - still in charge of Cassandra's phone, but that was hardly an issue. She was going to be busy, and he'd sit in the front row shooting reels for her Instagram anyway. Moments later, the fashion model found herself in front of the curtain again, a sheer floral dress skintight on a rail-thin body. In front of her stood Tobias, the showrunner and designer of the piece, eyeing her up and down with utter professional nonchalance. And that's why I don't pick my hookups on Raya, she thought to herself, rolling her eyes as the blond man inspected every inch of her frame - if only to see if every seam was where it was meant to be.

Soon enough, it was showtime.

As the applause came to an end and the models fell into each other's arms backstage to celebrate the successful show, their friends with backstage passes returned too. Francis was among them, making sure to stay out of Tobias' sight. Ever since he broke up with the designer, he was deathly afraid of him. After the obligatory good-job-niceties, Cassandra nodded at her phone in his hand.
"Did he respond?"
"Uh, he sent something, let me che..."
"I have to do the press run. If he's cool with it, ask him if we can pick him up somewhere on our way back to the hotel. If he's not, ask a backup choice."
Francis nodded, unlocked her phone and began typing - all while Cassandra was already on her way toward the storm of flashing lights just outside the backstage area. Before she vanished around the corner, she turned on her heels once more, shouting at Francis with that same devious grin she always had when he had to do something utterly uncomfortable for her:
"And ask him which size we need to buy!"

Her best friend could only sigh in response, staring down at the screen of her phone in exhaustion. Over one hundred people had sent her message - every single guy she swiped right on. Most of them were a terrible choice in more ways than one, plenty of red flags he had no trouble sorting out. Eventually, only one guy had been left - and once they confirmed whether they were up for a good time, all he had to do was to ask which condoms they'd need. He knew that kind of conversation from Grindr, at least.

From an opening message, I expect the following: What you liked about the prompt, what kind of character you see yourself writing for this story, which kinks you definitely want to include(dealbreakers, explain why they are important to you), kinks you are into (and why), limits you have. Ask me about ideas I have for the looks of our characters, or link me some references as suggestions. Tell me where you want to take this story, and whether you're looking for a single scene or something longer. Anything else you want to add is a bonus! If you don't have a prompt I can take a look at, a writing sample would also be appreciated, though it doesn't have to be in character.