Way back in the day when dinosaurs roamed the Earth the easiest way to live your best slut life was through bar pick-ups. I was always out anyway – seeing bands, going to dance clubs, hitting up multiple parties. You’d start the flirt and if you got a hook in and it was a go then you’d go back to his place (always, so you can leave), have some fun, collect your underwear before dawn and head out. If he was super cute and sweet I might leave a phone number.
I was, apparently, an anomaly amongst my female friends. It was “guy” behavior although I was always (sometimes painfully) transparent about my lack of interest in continuing the connection; not something that could always be said of my male counterparts.
When I got more into the kink-o-verse I found that in a way, one night stands were kind of an objectification fetish. The guys were almost anonymous flesh in my hands. More delightful when my hands could slap and pinch and twist, even more delightful with fetish wear and bondage. I had a roommate at one point who loved to put on a full gimp suit and follow me around. He was gay so we never had sex but I could touch him and poke and pinch him and it was wonderfully fun.
This objectification fetish manifests in many different ways – from the literal boytoy covered in latex to ball gags and blindfolds. I’ve never done it but even the idea of hiring a gigolo kind of aligns with this. You tell someone exactly what to do in service to you, they do it to your satisfaction, and then they leave.
BTW – anyone who wanted to have a quickie in the club bathroom got turned down. I have always liked to take my time.