When Fidelity Sleeps Pt. 02

Author's Note

This is an erotic story.

That should be clear by now--but let me say it again:

This is a story about desire, in its many messy, electrifying, unapologetic forms.

Yes, it's told through the lens of relationships, emotion, and daily life. But at its core, this story was built to explore the spaces where fantasy and reality collide--where inhibition melts, and where choices are made not for safety, but for sensation.

If you find yourself here expecting moral purity, emotional predictability, or traditional romance arcs, you may want to pause.

This story includes themes of cheating, group sex, domination, emotional conflict, and social pressure--

If those elements disturb you, or if you're reading with the hope that everything stays neatly in place...

This probably isn't for you. And that's okay.

There are other stories that will take better care of your heart.

But if you're here to feel--everything--

To question, to ache, to burn, to let go...

This story is told in chapters, each titled to give you a clear idea of what's ahead.

Feel free to skip around.

Follow the story in order--or dive straight into the moments that speak to you.

Curiosity is welcome here.

This story begins with the emotional and relational foundation between the characters--how they met, what shaped them, and what brought them together. But if you're here for the fire, the tension, the breaking of limits--

Start from Chapter 7.

Note: The space between lines is intentional. It's meant to slow you down--to let the story breathe, and to let you breathe with it.

Chapter 6 Proposal

A year later

Time had a way of smoothing even the sharpest edges.

Things between James and Pauline had calmed--slowly, then all at once. After the Gretta incident, emotions ran high for a while, but reality and love have a way of choosing what's worth holding on to. And Pauline had decided: James was.

And James? He had grown.

Leo--surprisingly--had been part of that. A few months after graduation, Leo had approached him with an offer to join the family business. It was unexpected, but the pay was excellent, and James was too smart to let old tension stand in the way of real opportunity.

He started small, handling logistics and communication. But Leo saw the same thing he'd always seen in James: focus, loyalty, drive. Soon James was managing clients, traveling, earning more money than he ever thought he would at this age.

And one morning, on a quiet walk by the lake with Pauline...

He knelt down.

She gasped, laughed, cried--and said yes.

The engagement party was intimate, elegant, full of soft lights and slow music. Friends gathered around with glasses of wine and phones raised, but no one more unexpected than Leo, who walked in late, wearing a light suit and his usual knowing smirk--toned down, older now, more composed.

James spotted him across the garden and made his way over.

Leo clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Damn, you actually did it."

James smiled. "Guess so."

Leo nodded toward Pauline across the yard. "She looks happy."

"She is."

They stood there a moment in silence--no jabs, no tension, just a quiet acknowledgment of where they'd started, and where they were now.

"I'm proud of you, man," Leo said, more sincerely than James expected. "You earned all of it."

"Thanks. And thanks for the job."

Leo shrugged. "I just opened a door. You kicked it in."

They shared a brief laugh, the kind only old friends can have.

Later that night, Pauline joined them, her ring catching the light as she slipped her arm around James's.

"Glad you came, Leo," she said with a soft smile.

Leo raised his glass. "Wouldn't miss it for the world."

The night moved on with dancing, toasts, and quiet promises.

A new chapter had begun.

Two months before the wedding

"I want Vegas," Gretta said, slamming her iced coffee down like she was announcing a campaign. "It's non-negotiable."

Pauline blinked at her sister from across the kitchen island. "I thought you said we'd just do something low-key. Spa weekend. Brunch. Something... chill."

Gretta leaned in with that unmistakable glint in her eyes. "Pauline. You're only getting married once. You're not doing it with bathrobes and avocado toast. I'm giving you memories. Filthy, glitter-filled, blacked-out memories."

Pauline rolled her eyes. "You just want an excuse to go wild."

"Exactly. And I'm bringing you with me."

That same afternoon, across the city, James was at Leo's apartment--new place, upscale, sleek. The two sat on a rooftop balcony sipping whiskey as the sun dipped low.

"So," Leo said, "I've been thinking..."

James raised an eyebrow. "That's never good."

Leo grinned. "Your bachelor party."

"No strippers."

Leo ignored him. "Vegas."

James groaned. "Leo..."

"It's perfect," Leo said, leaning back in his chair. "One last hurrah. I'll handle everything. You just show up, drink, and try not to get arrested."

James stared at him. "We're not twenty anymore."

"That's why we're going classy. Suite at the Bellagio. Bottles. Poker. Maybe a rooftop pool. And okay--maybe a dancer or two. But elegant dancers."

James chuckled, shaking his head. "You already booked it, didn't you?"

Leo smirked. "Let's just say the rooms might be held under your name."

The living room was lit by soft string lights and the glow of a few candles. Pillows and blankets were sprawled across the floor, bowls of popcorn half-eaten, and a bottle of rosé already halfway gone. Laughter filled the room, loud and easy, echoing through the cozy chaos of the slumber party.

Pauline lay on a fuzzy blanket in matching satin shorts and a cami. Gretta, of course, was in a cropped tank top and tiny pajama shorts that barely covered anything. Gaby wore an oversized shirt with no pants, legs bare and folded underneath her. And Nicole, the latest addition to Pauline's friend group, had on a silky black robe, her curly hair piled in a loose bun, gold hoops shining in the candlelight.

Nicole was cool and confident -- a medical student with a sharp wit and a killer poker face. Her vibe was calm, flirtatious, and a little intimidating in the best way. Gaby, by contrast, was bubbly and wild -- always the first to dance, the last to leave a party, and never shy about anything.

"I swear," Gaby was saying through a laugh, "the worst sex I've had was with a guy who wouldn't stop talking. Like motivational phrases while thrusting. 'You got this.' 'You're doing amazing.'"

All four of them burst out laughing.

Nicole grinned. "He was giving you a pep talk during sex?"

"Girl," Gaby said, shaking her head, "I felt like I was in a TED Talk with my legs in the air."

More laughter.

Wine glasses were refilled. Music hummed low in the background. The air was warm, a little heavy, a little loose.

Then Gretta, lazily swirling her drink, dropped a bomb like it was nothing.

"I've had sex with Leo."

Everything stopped.

Pauline blinked. "What?"

Gretta raised her eyebrows innocently. "Twice."

Gaby's mouth dropped. Nicole sat up straighter.

"You serious?" Gaby asked.

"Yeah," Gretta said with a shrug. "Once after that dumb poker night you made me leave early, and another time like a month later. He came over after a party."

Pauline looked stunned. "You never told me that."

Gretta smirked. "You didn't ask."

Nicole raised her glass. "So? How was he?"

Gretta didn't hesitate. "Confident. Rough. Knows what he's doing. And..."

She glanced at Pauline, then at the others.

"Huge."

There was a collective gasp.

"No way," Gaby whispered.

Gretta nodded slowly. "I'm serious. Like... I had to sit down after."

Pauline stared at her, stunned, lips parted. "I--I never even thought of him like that."

"Oh, you wouldn't forget that if you had," Gretta laughed.

Then Gaby turned, eyes gleaming. "Okay, okay, we're talking size. Pauline... spill. James?"

Pauline blushed instantly.

Nicole leaned in with a grin. "You have to. No skipping."

Pauline took a long sip of wine, trying to hide her smile.

"He's... on the smaller side."

Gretta snorted.

"But," Pauline continued quickly, "he knows how to use it. He's sweet. He pays attention. It's not a problem for me."

The room was quiet for a beat.

Then Nicole said, "Okay, but like... how small?"

Pauline laughed nervously. "Like... not micro. Just not impressive. It's more about how he moves, not what he moves with."

Gaby sipped her wine and nodded. "Hey, if it works, it works."

Gretta just hummed and sipped. "Still wouldn't mind a round three with Leo."

Pauline gave her a side-eye.

"I'm kidding," Gretta smiled. "Mostly."

The living room had gone quiet as the night stretched on. Most of the wine had been finished, the candles burning low, the mood looser and more vulnerable.

Gretta, lying back on a pillow with her phone in her hand, casually dropped one last revelation.

"Oh, and FYI," she said, glancing up, "Leo's been helping me plan your bachelorette trip."

Pauline slowly sat up. "What?"

Gretta smiled. "Relax. I needed some Vegas connections. And Leo knows people. He's been... helpful."

Nicole raised an eyebrow. "Leo? That's an interesting choice."

"I didn't tell you because I knew you'd freak out," Gretta said, shrugging. "But it's all solid. Clubs, a rooftop party, a private dinner -- classy chaos."

Pauline narrowed her eyes. "You promised no surprises."

"I lied."

Pauline sighed and rubbed her forehead. "Just... please don't let this get out of control."

Gretta leaned over and clinked her wine glass against Pauline's. "You're going to love it. Trust me."

One week later -- Thursday morning

Pauline stood outside the airport terminal, rolling her pink carry-on bag behind her. Gaby and Nicole were already there, both in matching hoodies that read "Bride Squad" in glittery script. Gretta wore hers cropped, of course, tied just above her toned stomach, with a short tennis skirt and white sneakers.

They checked in, passed security, and boarded the early flight to Las Vegas.

Pauline kept glancing at Gretta's phone every time she typed a message.

"You're texting Leo, aren't you?" she finally asked.

Gretta didn't even look up. "Maybe."

"Gretta..."

"Relax. It's just coordination stuff."

Pauline sighed, sinking into her seat. She had a feeling the weekend was going to be far from what she imagined -- and Leo's fingerprints were all over it, even from miles away.

Chapter 7 Batch Beggins

As the plane touched down and the heat of Nevada hit them in waves, the four girls were all smiles, champagne in hand, music blasting in their private van headed for the Strip.

The city rose before them like a promise of secrets.

And Gretta was in full command.

Gretta: We're here. Showtime.

Leo: Enjoy yourselves, have a great time for Pauline

Gretta: Working on it.

The limo pulled into the valet circle of The Cosmopolitan, neon lights bouncing off the sleek glass façade of the towering hotel. The Strip buzzed just outside, but inside the marble lobby, everything felt cooler, more exclusive.

As the elevator carried them to the 52nd floor, the girls sipped champagne from plastic flutes, already laughing, already letting the weekend seep into their skin.

When they walked into their suite, Pauline froze mid-step.

Hanging along the wall, perfectly arranged on hangers like boutique pieces in a showroom, were four full sets: each one with a white bikini, a club dress, and a matching lingerie set--one for each of them.

The card on the table read:

"For the Bride Squad -- a taste of what's to come.

Let the city undress you. --G."

Pauline walked up and immediately grabbed hers.

The bikini was pure white--minimal coverage, thin strings, the kind that barely held anything in place. The dress was worse: tight, short, open back, with a dangerously high slit and a neckline that plunged almost to the waist. The lingerie? Lace, transparent, and so delicate it looked like it might vanish on contact.

"You've got to be kidding," she said, holding up the dress with wide eyes. "There's no way I'm wearing this."

Gretta flopped onto the bed, kicking her shoes off. "Oh, you're definitely wearing it."

"Gretta, it's practically see-through."

"That's the point."

Nicole held up her black silk set and laughed. "It's a bachelorette trip. Subtlety's not invited."

Gaby had already stripped down to try her bikini on in the mirror. "Mine fits like a glove. I feel like a cocktail waitress at a billionaire's yacht party."

Pauline shook her head, still staring at the white dress. "This looks like something he'd pick."

Gretta didn't even flinch. "Maybe he helped."

Pauline narrowed her eyes. "Seriously?"

Gretta smiled, sipping her champagne. "You're overthinking it. Vegas doesn't care what you think you'll wear. It knows what you will."

Later that night, they stepped into The Chandelier Bar -- a glowing palace of crystal and violet light, three tiers of shimmering strands cascading from the ceiling like a waterfall frozen in motion.

Pauline wore the dress.

She hated how good it looked.

It clung to her hips, her skin golden under the low purple light. Her legs were bare and flawless in heels she'd borrowed from Gaby. Her hair was loose, her makeup a little more intense than usual. She looked like someone who was in control.

Even if she didn't feel like it.

They found a booth in the middle tier, surrounded by velvet chairs and curved glass. Waiters floated by with cocktails named like riddles -- Infinite Playlist, Midnight Ritual, Fire Within.

Pauline ordered tequila straight.

Gaby cheered. "That's the spirit!"

They raised their glasses and clinked them together.

"To the bride," Nicole said.

"To bad choices," Gretta added.

Pauline laughed despite herself. The alcohol was already sinking in, softening her nerves.

She didn't notice Gretta slipping out her phone and sending a quick text.

Gretta: She's in the dress. You win.

Leo: Told you. Now make her own it.

The violet glow of the Chandelier Bar danced across Pauline's skin as she leaned slightly back in her seat, sipping slowly on her second drink. Laughter echoed from every direction--Gaby already deep in conversation with a waiter, Nicole watching a couple flirt at the next table like it was a movie, and Gretta scanning the room like she was tracking a storm.

Pauline pulled her phone from her purse.

James had texted her earlier.

Hope you're having fun. Can't wait to see you again.

She smiled softly, thumbs tapping.

I miss you. It's beautiful here. I'm in the tiniest dress ever. I blame Gretta.

She hit send.

Then--

A hand reached over and plucked the phone right out of hers.

"Nope." Gretta twirled the phone in her fingers, smirking. "New rule. Bride has no phone tonight. This is about being present, not texting your fiancé every five minutes."

Pauline frowned. "Gretta--come on."

"Nope. Consider it a gift to both of you. You get freedom, he gets mystery. Everyone wins."

She slid the phone into her tiny purse with a wink. "You'll get it back at sunrise."

Pauline exhaled, caught between amused and annoyed. But the music was louder now, the drinks stronger, and before she could argue more, Nicole handed her another round.

Gaby was already on the dance floor, hips swaying, drink in hand.

That's when the guys showed up.

Not just any guys -- a group of five, well-dressed, late 20s, clearly not frat boys. They looked like they'd just come from a rooftop party at The Wynn, the kind of men who could afford bottle service without checking their bank apps.

One of them leaned into Gaby, whispering something that made her laugh.

Another greeted Nicole like they'd met before.

Gretta? She was already making eye contact with two at once.

And Pauline... sat there, letting it all wash over her, the red lights, the perfume, the bubbles in her drink... and the very clear feeling that the night was only getting started.

"Wait," Gretta said loudly over the music, raising her glass and getting everyone's attention. "Did I mention why we're really here?"

The guys turned to her, drinks in hand, eyes curious.

Gretta grinned like she was hosting her own show. "It's her bachelorette weekend," she said, pointing straight at Pauline.

Pauline tried to sink into the booth but Gretta wouldn't have it. She grabbed her hand and pulled her up. "Come on--give them a spin. Let them see what the bride-to-be looks like!"

"No, Gretta--"

But it was too late. The spotlight was on.

Pauline stood, caught halfway between laughter and embarrassment as Gretta made her do a slow, playful twirl. Her white dress clung to her in all the right ways, and the slits gave just enough flash of leg to make several jaws subtly drop.

"Damn," one of the guys said under his breath, clearly impressed.

Another guy -- tall, olive-skinned, with dark eyes and a blazer he wore like it was part of his personality -- stepped closer. "Congratulations," he said, lifting his glass toward her. "He's a lucky guy."

"Thank you," Pauline replied with a soft smile, already feeling the warmth in her cheeks... whether from the attention or the drinks, she wasn't sure.

They started talking, just surface-level at first -- names, where they were from, favorite spots in Vegas. He introduced himself as Marcus, from San Diego. Corporate, but not stiff. Charming, but not pushy.

Gretta watched from the bar and grinned like a devil with a plan.

A moment later, she returned holding a small shot glass with a flame dancing over the top.

"Bride's special," she said, setting it in front of Pauline.

Pauline stared at it. "Gretta, why is it on fire?"

"Don't ask questions. Just blow it out and drink."

Nicole leaned in. "What is it?"

"Absinthe," Gretta said casually, already pushing it toward Pauline's hands. "Good for the soul. Great for the vibe."

Pauline raised an eyebrow. "You're trying to kill me."

"Please. You're tougher than you look."

Pauline blew out the flame, took a breath... and threw it back.

It hit hard. Hot, herbal, burning sweet. Her throat tingled, her face flushed instantly.

"Oh my God," she coughed, eyes watering. "That was illegal in, like, ten countries."

Gaby laughed and clapped.

Gretta handed her a lime slice and winked. "That's more like it."

And just like that -- Pauline was in the middle of it.

The bass of the music pulsed through her chest. Her limbs felt lighter. Her body looser.

She let Marcus pull her toward the dance floor, laughing as she moved, the silk of her dress brushing her thighs, her hair catching the bar's violet lights like strands of gold.

The bass was heavy now. A slow, pulsing rhythm that melted into the bodies on the dance floor, packed tight and electric.

Pauline moved with a drink still in her hand, her skin warm, her breath just a little faster than it had been minutes ago. The lights strobed across her dress, making the white silk shimmer with each shift of her hips.

Marcus stood behind her, not too close--at first.

He let her dance, let her feel his presence like static in the air.

Then his hands came to her hips.

Not demanding. Just firm enough to anchor her movements.

She didn't stop him.

Her body swayed back into his. The hem of her dress crept higher as she moved, thighs brushing his. She felt the shape of him against her backside--already hard, already pressed close.

His hand slid along her side, fingers grazing the outside of her Tryt through the thin fabric.

Pauline's breath caught. She didn't pull away.

Her eyes fluttered closed for a moment as the music pulled her deeper into herself. Her hips rolled in time with his, a slow grind that sent sparks up her spine. She could feel how wet her panties were--already--and how easily his body responded to her.

Then his hand dipped lower.

She sucked in a breath.

His fingers slid under her dress, finding the soft skin of her inner thigh. Higher. Until he felt the damp lace.

Still, she didn't stop him.

His fingertips brushed the heat of her pussy through the fabric--light, teasing strokes. Not enough to push her over, but just enough to make her lips part, her pulse race, her mind blur.

Pauline leaned back into him, breath trembling, fingers curling into his jacket.

Her legs tensed.

She wasn't going to come.

But she was close--too close. Her body ached with want, with tension, with a need she didn't know what to do with in the middle of a crowded bar in a borrowed dress.

Marcus leaned into her ear.

"You feel unbelievable."

Pauline didn't answer. Couldn't.

She was too caught in it.

Just as Marcus's hand slipped away from under her dress, and Pauline tried to steady her breath, a voice cut through the music--sharp, excited, unbothered.

"There you are!"

Gretta appeared at her side, cheeks flushed, hair tousled, clearly already two steps ahead in the party.

"We're leaving. The guys rented a suite off the Strip--huge place, full bar, hot tub, everything."

Pauline blinked, trying to catch up.

"What?"

"We're continuing the party," Gretta grinned. "Limousines are outside. Let's go!"

Pauline looked at Marcus, who was already adjusting his blazer and smiling. "Come with us," he said smoothly. "It's private. Way more relaxed."

Gaby grabbed Nicole's hand and spun in place. "Hell yes. Vegas doesn't sleep and neither do we."

Pauline hesitated for half a second.

Then Gretta grabbed her wrist. "Bride rule. You don't say no. Let's go."

Outside, the warm desert night wrapped around them as they stepped into the valet circle again. Two stretch limousines waited, their doors open, soft lights glowing inside like neon invitations.

Gretta handled the split with a smile that said she knew exactly what she was doing.

"In this one," she said, pointing to the first limo, "me, Pauline, Marcus and Devon."

"In the other," she continued, "Gaby, Nicole, those two guys from New York... and that guy I think is a DJ."

Pauline stepped into the limo, slipping onto the leather bench seat beside Marcus. Gretta climbed in next, drink in hand, legs crossed, already on her phone.

Chapter 8 Batch Orgy

The limousine glided smoothly through the glowing veins of Las Vegas, past casinos, neon reflections, and late-night energy pulsing just outside the windows.

Inside, the lights were dim, the leather seats cool against bare skin, and the music low -- just a soft beat under the laughter and the clinking of ice in glasses.

Pauline sat between Marcus and Gretta, her legs crossed, hands folded on her lap, eyes focused on nothing in particular.

Her cheeks were still flushed.

Not from the alcohol.

From him.

From his fingers under her dress.

From the way her body had reacted -- too fast, too willing, like a part of her had been waiting for it.

She could still feel the pressure in her lower belly. Still feel the slick heat between her thighs. She hadn't even had a chance to process it. She didn't know if she wanted to.

"You good?" Gretta's voice broke through, low and knowing.

Pauline turned her head, lips parted, like she'd just realized where she was.

"I... yeah. Just--"

Gretta smirked. "You're glowing."

Pauline tried to hide the smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "Shut up."

"No, really," Gretta said, leaning in. "You're like... soft. Relaxed. I haven't seen you like this in forever."

Pauline let out a small, almost embarrassed laugh.

"I don't even know what's happening," she admitted. "It's like I'm here but not. Like I'm watching myself from outside."

Gretta gently nudged her knee. "That's called finally letting go."

Pauline glanced at Marcus, who was sipping something brown and smooth from a cut-glass tumbler, completely at ease beside her.

Her heart fluttered again.

Gretta leaned in closer, her voice almost a whisper. "It's your last wild weekend. Before you become someone's wife. You're allowed to float a little."

Pauline looked down at her hands, then out the window at the lights. "I love him."

"I know," Gretta said without hesitation. "This isn't about love. It's about you. About remembering you still get to feel... everything."

Pauline didn't answer.

She didn't have to.

The look in her eyes said it all -- torn, intrigued, unsure whether to stop or just keep breathing until the guilt caught up later.

Gretta clinked her glass softly against hers. "Tonight isn't about deciding. It's about experiencing."

And as the limo curved toward the glowing outline of a gated private villa...

Pauline didn't say another word.

The living room felt like it had its own pulse now.

The music was darker, bassier -- vibrating through the floor, the glass, the skin.

Lights had been dimmed even further, and the few guests who weren't already barefoot had lost jackets, heels, or shirts. The drinks kept flowing. The laughter had turned low and sultry. The kind that stretched into long looks and whispered jokes too close to the ear.

Near the center, Gretta was dancing with a guy named Jace -- tall, shaved head, black tee clinging to his chest. They were already pressed together, bodies aligned like they'd been doing this forever.

Pauline could see her sister's tits bouncing slightly with every grind, Jace's hands gripping her hips, pulling her into his rhythm. Gretta had one arm wrapped around his neck, her lips grazing his jaw, her skirt hiked halfway up her ass now, revealing her toned legs and barely-there black thong.

She didn't care.

Neither did anyone else.

Jace slid a hand up her thigh, under the skirt, grabbing a full handful of her ass as she bit her lip and let out a soft moan that was very much not imagined. He turned her around, pressing her into him from behind, and his other hand slipped under the fabric again.

This time deeper.

Gretta tilted her head back against his shoulder, eyes half closed, as his hand moved over her pussy through the thin lace, rubbing her slowly in front of everyone.

Gaby gasped, laughing nervously from the bar. Nicole was watching from the couch, eyebrows raised but saying nothing.

Pauline stood frozen for a second, caught in the fire of the moment -- her skin tingling, cheeks flushed, heart racing.

Marcus stepped behind her again, gently pressing his chest to her back, his hands grazing her arms.

"She's not shy, huh?" he murmured into Pauline's ear.

Pauline couldn't even answer.

She felt his hands on her waist, pulling her back into him. His cock was hard now, and he didn't bother to hide it. She felt it through his pants, pressed against the curve of her ass. Her body responded on instinct.

One of his hands slid over her stomach, slow and steady, while the other moved lower -- down her outer thigh, then inward, slipping under the hem of her white dress once again.

His fingers found the soft lace of her panties.

Already warm.

Already wet.

Pauline's breath caught.

"You want me to stop?" Marcus whispered, lips just behind her ear.

She didn't answer.

The air inside the villa had thickened -- not with smoke, not with noise, but with heat. A quiet, undeniable heat that rose from the floor, the skin, the eyes.

Gretta and Jace were no longer just dancing. They were moving, rhythmically, provocatively, her legs spread just enough for his fingers to have room beneath her thong. Her moans were no longer masked by the music -- they blended with it.

On the couch, Nicole -- always observant, always calm -- finally gave in to the spell of the room. One of the guys from earlier, lean and tan with sharp cheekbones and a silver chain, had been sitting beside her all night. She turned toward him now, cupped the back of his neck, and kissed him hard. He grabbed her thigh instantly, pulling her onto his lap, hands sliding under her satin robe, revealing smooth skin and no underwear beneath.

She didn't care.

Across the bar, Gaby was laughing with a second guy, shorter but muscular, covered in tattoos. He said something near her ear, and she threw her head back, then grabbed his shirt and pulled him into a kiss so deep it silenced them both. His hands found her breast under her crop top, and she let him -- even lifted her arms so he could pull it off entirely. Her pussy was already visible through her sheer panties as he pushed her against the marble countertop and began grinding into her.

Pauline saw it all.

She stood in the middle of the room, her drink forgotten, Marcus behind her, his hand already sliding her panties to the side, fingers teasing her pussy with slow, knowing strokes. Her body arched back into him without permission.

The entire room had surrendered.

Every couch, every surface, every corner was taken -- lips, hands, skin.

No more pretense.

Just rhythm. Just friction. Just heat.

Marcus leaned down to her ear again.

"You're not like them," he whispered. "But your body wants to be."

Pauline's breath shook.

Marcus's fingers moved with a confidence that made Pauline's knees tremble.

He had one hand gripping her waist, anchoring her body back into his, while the other slid over her exposed pussy, his touch slow, steady, devastating. Her panties were pushed aside, damp and forgotten, her white dress still clinging to her curves as if trying to preserve the last image of decency left.

Her breath came out in soft gasps, head tilted slightly back against his shoulder.

"Feel what you're doing to me," he whispered.

She did.

His cock pressed hard against her ass through his pants, throbbing with every roll of her hips. She should've stopped. Should've walked away.

But the room wasn't built for resistance anymore.

Across from her, Nicole was fully straddling the guy with the chain, her robe open, her bare tits bouncing as he sucked her nipple and fingered her deep, his hand moving beneath her as she rocked into it like she didn't care who saw.

Near the bar, Gaby had been bent over, laughing breathlessly while the tattooed guy took her from behind, her pussy already glistening from his work, her panties on the floor. Her tits bounced freely with each thrust, her mouth open in shock and ecstasy.

And then--

Gretta.

Pinned to the couch by Jace, one hand tangled in his shirt while he thrust slowly into her anus from behind, his other hand wrapped around her hip. A second guy -- the one who'd been lingering -- knelt in front of her, tongue deep between her legs, his hands gripping her thighs as she moaned uncontrollably between both sensations.

Her Tryt soaked his mouth, her ass stretched and trembling from Jace's deep strokes. Her hands gripped both men like she needed them to stay grounded.

Pauline's breath hitched.

And Marcus used the moment.

He turned her slightly, pulling her down onto the edge of the couch and spreading her legs apart slowly. She didn't resist. Her dress rode up to her waist. Her panties stayed pushed to the side.

He kneeled between her thighs.

His fingers parted her gently.

Then his mouth found her pussy.

Warm. Wet. Consuming.

Her legs shook as his tongue circled her clit, slow and patient, while one finger slipped inside her, curling upward.

She gasped aloud -- the room forgotten. The noise of skin, moans, music -- blurred.

All she could feel was his tongue. His rhythm. His hunger.

Gretta was no longer dancing.

She was a centerpiece now--body stretched across the deep leather couch, one leg propped high over the shoulder of the guy kneeling in front of her, the other curled into the side of the man behind her.

Jace was buried in her anus, his cock slick and thick as it plunged in and out, his hands gripping her ass with force. Every thrust into that tight, pulsing space made her body jolt forward, pushing her deeper into the face of the second guy, whose mouth was completely smothered in her Tryt.

He devoured her hungrily, tongue gliding up and down her folds, circling her clit, dipping deep before sucking hard. His fingers gripped her thighs, holding them wide apart, guiding her as she rocked between both of them.

Gretta wasn't quiet.

Her moans came in hot, ragged bursts, her voice unfiltered.

"Fuck--right there... don't stop--both of you..."

Jace slapped her ass, hard, and drove into her anus even deeper, stretching her to the edge. The other guy groaned against her pussy as she ground into his mouth, smearing herself across his face, soaking him with each desperate shift of her hips.

Her tits bounced violently with each impact, nipples stiff, her body a storm of rhythm and raw release.

The contrast of sensations had her lost--completely.

One man filling her anus with deep, punishing thrusts.

Another lapping at her clit, tongue flat and relentless.

And Gretta?

Gretta was in heaven.

She didn't care who was watching.

She wanted to be seen.

And in that moment, everyone was watching.

Marcus's tongue was relentless now -- wet, deep, circling Pauline's clit with slow, masterful pressure. His fingers slid in and out of her pussy in rhythm, curling just right inside her, hitting a spot that made her thighs tense around his head.

Pauline's hands gripped the edge of the couch. Her back arched. Her lips parted in a breathless moan she tried to hold back -- but couldn't.

She was soaked.

Shaking.

Every part of her begging.

Marcus didn't stop.

He devoured her, tongue pressing harder, fingers working faster until she was panting, her whole body trembling on the edge.

"Fuck--Marcus..."

And then it hit her.

Her climax washed over her like a crash of heat and pressure, hips jerking forward, thighs squeezing tight around his face as her pussy pulsed hard around his fingers.

Her moan was sharp, deep, uncontrollable.

The room felt it.

Across the way, Nicole let out a breathy scream as she came hard in the lap of the guy beneath her, his cock deep inside her, her Tryt clenching tightly as she bucked and gasped and clawed at his chest.

Gaby, still bent over the bar, moaned out something halfway between a curse and a prayer as the tattooed guy drove into her hard one last time and groaned, his cum shooting deep while her pussy clenched and trembled from her own release.

And Gretta--

She was a masterpiece of surrender.

Jace slammed deep into her anus, his hips jerking as he exploded inside her, thick streams of cum filling her completely just as the man at her front moaned against her clit, and Gretta screamed out, her entire body spasming as her Tryt gushed into his mouth, her orgasm raw and volcanic between both men.

She collapsed forward, panting, glistening, legs trembling.

And then--

Silence.

Just music.

Breath.

Heat.

A room full of bodies--dripping, panting, collapsed in post-climax glow.

Pauline slowly opened her eyes.

Marcus looked up at her, lips glistening, eyes dark.

Pauline lay back against the couch, chest rising and falling, legs still parted, skin tingling.

Marcus kissed the inside of her thigh one last time.

The room around her was a blur of limbs and breath -- a haze of sweat, scent, soft music still playing somewhere in the background.

Marcus pulled back slowly from between Pauline's trembling legs, his lips still wet from her pussy, his breath ragged. She lay there half-reclined on the couch, her chest rising and falling, her body still twitching from the high he'd brought her to.

But he hadn't finished.

His cock was rock hard -- heavy, pulsing, and aching to explode. His hands were shaking slightly, trying to regain composure. Pauline opened her eyes and looked up at him, dazed, flushed, still catching her breath. But she didn't move.

She wasn't going to finish him.

Before he could even step away, another voice cut through the dim, sex-filled room.

"Don't leave him like that," Gretta said from across the couch, her voice low and teasing. Her ass was still red from being pounded, her Tryt glistening, mouth swollen from moaning. She walked over completely naked, her body streaked with sweat and cum, her eyes locked on Marcus.

"He's earned it," she purred.

Marcus looked up just in time to see her dropping to her knees between his legs.

"Sit back," she told him.

He did.

Without another word, Gretta leaned in and wrapped her mouth around his cock -- warm, slick, wet from the first stroke. Marcus's head fell back with a gasp, his hips jerking at the sudden heat around him.

"F-fuck..."

She took him deep. All the way down. Her tongue worked fast, swirling, dragging under the shaft before sucking back up to the head. She moaned around him like she liked the taste, her eyes on him, daring him to hold back.

She spit on it, smeared it with her hand, and then swallowed him again -- faster, sloppier, hungrier.

Marcus gripped her hair, his whole body tight.

Then--

A whimper from Pauline.

She had turned her head just enough to watch.

Gretta noticed.

And smirked.

Still stroking his soaked cock, she aimed it toward her sister's thighs. Toward the soft, trembling skin of Pauline's still-spread legs.

Marcus lost it.

"Shit--I'm gonna--"

Gretta moved her mouth away at the last second.

And Marcus exploded.

Hot streams of cum shot out of his cock, landing all over Pauline's inner thighs, her stomach, even a few thick drops across her Tryt and onto the hem of her white dress.

Pauline flinched -- shocked -- frozen.

Gretta stroked him through the last pulses, humming with satisfaction.

Marcus collapsed into the couch, gasping, empty.

She tried to sit up.

But the wave hit her.

Suddenly.

The world tilted.

Her vision blurred.

The air felt thick, far away.

She blinked hard -- once, twice -- then everything around her went dim, like someone had slowly turned down the brightness of the night.

Voices faded.

So did Marcus's touch.

Her thoughts unraveled into silence.

And then--

black.

Chapter 9 Striptease

The light came in soft through the edge of the blackout curtains.

Pauline blinked slowly, her eyes dry, her mouth even drier. Her head throbbed -- a dull, pulsing ache right at the center of her forehead. She didn't sit up at first. Just stared at the ceiling, still half-lost in the shadows of sleep and... something else.

Then it hit her.

That floating feeling.

Disconnection.

Like part of her had been cut loose from her own memories.

She sat up slowly.

She was in bed. Alone. Still in the same dress -- rumpled, pulled slightly off one shoulder, but no longer riding up like she remembered it had been. Her panties were back on. She didn't remember putting them on.

Next to her, on the nightstand: a glass of water and two white pills in a small paper packet that read Hangover Hero.

She stared at them for a second, like they might give her the answers she didn't have.

Flashes came in bursts -- Marcus's mouth, his hands, her thighs spread wide, the couch, Gretta's voice, skin on skin. Something warm landing on her. The sound of moaning. Laughter. Heat.

But none of it stayed long enough to feel solid.

She pressed a hand to her temple.

There was a knock, then the door opened without waiting for a response.

Gretta stepped in, fresh-faced, robe tied loosely at the waist, her hair up in a messy bun, acting as if everything was completely normal.

"Morning, sleeping beauty," she said cheerfully. "We're all waiting in the living room. Breakfast just got here."

Pauline looked at her, eyes slightly wide, throat tight.

Gretta paused, tilting her head.

"You okay?"

Pauline hesitated.

"I don't... really remember much from last night."

Gretta smiled like it was cute.

"That's kind of the point, isn't it?"

She nodded toward the pills. "Take those. You'll feel better. Then come out and eat. Nicole ordered, like, half the menu."

And just like that, she was gone again -- the door clicking softly shut behind her.

Pauline looked back at the pills, then at her bare legs, then down at the edge of the bedspread where a faint pink shimmer clung to the fabric.

The scent of coffee, toasted bread, and sweet syrup hit Pauline the moment she stepped into the living room.

The girls were sprawled around the low table, plates half-filled with pancakes, bacon, fruit, mimosas already half-empty. The curtains were drawn just enough to let in soft daylight, making the suite feel almost cozy.

Nicole looked up first and smiled. "Well, look who finally rose from the dead."

Gaby grinned. "We were about to send a rescue team. Or another shot."

Pauline gave them a tired smile, sitting down slowly on one of the armchairs, legs still weak, her body heavy.

"You looked so good last night," said Gretta, handing her a coffee. "That dress. That glow. You were lit."

Nicole nodded. "Seriously. You were on fire."

Gaby sipped her drink and added, "You were practically vibrating. I was waiting for someone to throw a towel over you."

Pauline's cheeks warmed.

"I... was I really that out of it?"

Gretta smirked. "Oh yeah. You were soaked, babe. Like, just from the attention."

Pauline's stomach twisted slightly. "Wait... did I actually do it? With someone?"

The room paused.

Then all three girls burst out laughing.

Gaby nearly choked on her mimosa.

Nicole leaned forward. "You seriously don't remember?"

Pauline shook her head slowly. "Bits. Not much."

Gretta laughed. "No, babe. You didn't fuck anyone. Marcus just made you come like three times with his mouth and his fingers. That's it."

Pauline's jaw tightened slightly. "Oh."

Nicole raised an eyebrow, teasing. "You sounded like you were getting railed by a god. But nope -- you were just really, really enjoying it."

Pauline leaned back, embarrassed, whispering, "Then why do I feel... sticky?"

The girls broke into laughter again.

Gaby waved a hand. "You don't wanna know."

Gretta, still giggling, got up and grabbed Pauline's phone from the counter.

"Here."

Pauline took it and tapped the screen.

1 New Message -- James

Hey, baby. Just checking in. You okay? Call me when you wake up. I love you.

Pauline stepped into the adjoining bedroom and closed the door softly behind her. The weight of the phone in her hand suddenly felt heavier than ever. She sat on the edge of the bed, took a long breath... and called.

It rang twice.

"Hey, babe."

James's voice was soft, warm, grounding.

Pauline closed her eyes for a second. "Hey..."

"You okay? I was starting to worry. You didn't answer last night."

"Yeah," she said, voice quiet. "Sorry. Things got... intense."

"Intense how?" he asked, but not accusing -- just concerned.

"There was a lot of drinking. We ended up at a house party with some guys we met at the bar. Everyone was dancing, partying..." she hesitated. "I got a little carried away."

"Carried away how?"

She swallowed. "Nothing happened. I didn't sleep with anyone. But someone... touched me. It got a little far. I stopped it, but... I let it go too far before I did."

There was a beat of silence.

She waited, bracing for disappointment.

But all she heard was his steady breath.

"It's okay," James said, voice calm. "You didn't do anything wrong. You were in the moment. These things happen."

Pauline blinked. "You're not... upset?"

"No," he said gently. "I know who you are. I know how much you love me."

Her chest loosened -- but not entirely.

"It's just... the way you're taking this, it's almost too calm," she said. "Like you're saying it's okay so that you have a free pass when your turn comes."

James laughed softly. "Pauline, come on. I'm not planning anything crazy. I just want you to enjoy yourself. Really."

She was quiet.

Then said, "Gretta suggested I turn off my phone for the rest of the weekend. So I can disconnect."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. But if anything happens, you can reach me through Gaby, Nicole, or Gretta. They'll all have their phones on them."

"Got it," he said. "But seriously--just relax. Don't overthink it. Enjoy this. You deserve it."

She looked down at her lap.

"I'll try."

"I love you."

"I love you too."

She hung up.

Stared at the screen.

Then slowly powered the phone off.

But instead of relief, there was a flicker of something else in her chest.

When Pauline walked back into the living room, the girls were still halfway through breakfast. Plates of waffles, fresh fruit, scrambled eggs, and mimosas spread across the table, the remains of a decadent, lazy morning.

Gretta looked up from her plate. "That didn't take long."

Pauline sat down slowly, her fingers still lightly brushing over her now-powered-off phone.

"I called James," she said softly.

Nicole glanced at her. "How'd that go?"

Pauline poured herself some orange juice, eyes low. "I told him a little bit. About last night. Not everything. But... enough."

Gaby leaned in, curious. "And?"

"He was calm. Too calm," Pauline said. "He told me to relax, to enjoy myself. He said it was okay."

Gretta raised her brow. "And that's bad because...?"

"I don't know," Pauline admitted. "It just made me wonder if he's being chill now so he doesn't feel guilty later. When it's his turn."

Nicole tilted her head. "Or maybe he just trusts you. Fully."

Gaby nodded. "Honestly, babe, he's a guy. If he had freaked out, you'd be feeling guilty. If he's cool, now you're suspicious. There's no winning."

Pauline let out a half-laugh, half-sigh. "I guess you're right."

Gretta poured another mimosa and handed it to her. "Look, you didn't cheat. You didn't lie. You didn't do anything you didn't want to. You're just in your head. You need sun, music, drinks that come in pineapples. You need a beach club."

Pauline looked up. "We're going to a beach club?"

"Damn right we are," Gaby said. "I already called. We have a cabana at the Encore Beach Club. Pool, cocktails, music, and men in swim shorts. You'll thank us by lunch."

Nicole smirked. "And yes, your white bikini is already in the tote."

Pauline rolled her eyes, smiling now despite herself.

Gretta raised her glass. "To brides who think too much."

Steam filled the bathroom like a dreamy haze, curling around the mirrors and leaving trails down the glass. The four girls moved around each other in towels, half-dressed, half-giggling, music playing from a Bluetooth speaker balanced on the sink.

Pauline stood in front of the mirror, her hair damp, wrapped in a plush white towel as she moisturized her legs.

Gretta walked by behind her, hair in a twisted bun, towel dangerously low on her chest. She slapped Pauline's ass playfully. "You're glowing already. One step into that club and you're gonna have every man there drooling."

Gaby leaned over the sink, applying highlighter to her cheekbones. "Speak for yourself. I plan on collecting at least three phone numbers today."

Nicole sat on the edge of the tub, legs crossed, sipping iced coffee from a hotel cup, a silk headband holding back her curls. "Three? Amateur numbers. I'm going for five."

The room erupted in laughter.

Once their hair was dried and styled -- Nicole with her voluminous curls bouncing effortlessly, Gaby's sleek straight ponytail high and sharp, Gretta's signature beachy waves loose and wild, and Pauline with her soft, natural look glowing under the light -- it was time for bikinis.

They changed without shyness.

Pauline slid into her white bikini -- minimal cut, triangle top, thin straps, the bottoms high on the hips, clinging perfectly to her toned legs and round, tight ass. Her ass looked smooth and glowing under the light, her skin kissed by the desert sun from the day before. She wrapped a sheer, white pareo around her waist and let her loose waves fall over one shoulder. Barefoot, fresh-faced, and radiant.

Gretta wore a deep red bikini, low-cut and bold, her tits practically spilling out. She added gold hoop earrings, a matching red wrap tied tight on her hips, and gold bangles on her wrist. She looked like the one who broke hearts without apologizing.

Nicole wore a sleek, one-shoulder black bikini, high-cut with an open back. Her long legs shimmered with body oil, and her robe-style cover-up in light satin clung just enough to tease. Dark sunglasses completed the look -- quiet power, dangerously hot.

Gaby chose a neon pink string bikini that popped against her tan skin. The top was tiny, the bottoms even tinier, and she wore a denim shirt tied at the waist like a crop jacket. Playful, loud, impossible to ignore.

Gretta grabbed the bottle of body mist and sprayed it across the room like perfume fireworks.

"This is what heaven smells like," she said, twirling.

Pauline laughed, tying her pareo tighter. "We're gonna melt in the sun."

"That's the point," Nicole smirked. "Let them see us glisten."

Gaby raised her phone and opened the camera. "Group mirror selfie. Now."

They squeezed together in the fogged-up mirror, striking sexy poses -- tongues out, hips popped, middle fingers up, one arm around Pauline in the center.

Just as they were about to leave the room, Gretta raised a hand.

"Hold up. One last thing."

Pauline turned, already half-laughing. "What now?"

Gaby chimed in with a grin. "Striptease. For Nicole."

Gretta pointed her phone toward them. "We all got a show yesterday. Nicole didn't. Bride's orders."

Nicole leaned back into the couch, legs crossed, cool as ever. But there was something different in her eyes. A spark.

"Come on then," she said softly. "Let's see what you've got."

Pauline hesitated for half a second, then smiled, stepping into the middle of the room, swaying her hips as the speaker played something slow and bass-heavy.

Her sheer pareo slid off easily, pooling at her feet.

She walked slowly toward Nicole, her body gleaming, white bikini hugging her curves, tits pushing forward with each step. She placed one hand on the back of the couch, the other on Nicole's shoulder.

Nicole didn't move.

At first.

But then her hands rose -- slow, deliberate -- and landed on Pauline's waist. Her fingers spread across her skin, thumbs brushing the line of her abs, then slipping around her lower back.

Pauline's breath caught slightly.

Nicole looked up, her eyes darker now.

"You're really gonna tease me like that and not follow through?"

Before Pauline could answer, Nicole leaned forward.

And kissed her.

It wasn't soft.

It was hungry.

The room went quiet -- except for Gaby's low whistle and Gretta's delighted "Oooh, okay then!"

Nicole's hands slid up Pauline's sides, fingers tracing the shape of her tits, then cupping her tits through the bikini top.

Pauline gasped into the kiss.

Then Nicole reached up, hooked her thumbs under the strings--

--and pulled.

The bikini top came off in one smooth motion.

Pauline stood there, bare from the waist up, her tits rising and falling with each breath. The white bikini top lay on the floor. Nicole's eyes traced every inch of her exposed skin, dark with something much deeper than a joke.

For a second, no one said a word.

Then Nicole's hands slid up again -- not stopping this time.

She cupped Pauline's tits slowly, thumbs brushing over her nipple, circling with soft, practiced pressure. Pauline shivered.

Nicole leaned in.

Her lips wrapped around one nipple, warm and wet, and Pauline let out a gasp she couldn't hold back.

Gretta blinked. "Whoa."

Gaby froze mid-sip, eyes wide. "Holy shit..."

Pauline's knees wobbled.

"Nicole--" she whispered, half-laughing, half-panting.

But Nicole didn't stop.

She kissed her way down, slow, slow, down to her stomach. Then she dropped to her knees.

Still in her bikini bottoms, Pauline looked down, lips parted, breath unsteady.

Nicole slipped her hands around Pauline's hips and pulled her closer, then pressed her face softly between her thighs -- through the bikini, at first. She rubbed her cheek along her pussy like she was claiming it.

Pauline's hand clutched Nicole's shoulder for balance.

Then Nicole's fingers hooked under the thin white fabric... and slid it to the side.

Pauline didn't stop her.

Nicole leaned in and kissed her pussy.

Full, slow, open-mouthed.

Her tongue dragged up between the folds. Pauline's head tilted back, her lips opened wide in a silent moan. Her thighs twitched. She grabbed the back of Nicole's head.

Nicole moaned into her.

She licked again -- longer this time, then circled her tongue around her clit, slow and wet, two fingers slipping up to gently spread her open.

Pauline's whole body trembled.

"Oh my god..." she gasped.

Her legs nearly gave out.

Nicole held her there, lapping slowly, again and again, building her rhythm until Pauline's hips were grinding into her mouth, her pussy slick and twitching under each stroke.

Her moans filled the room.

She was right at the edge -- so close it hurt.

Nicole pulled back just an inch, her lips shiny, breath heavy. She looked up at Pauline with dark, blown pupils.

"You taste better than I imagined," she whispered.

Pauline looked down, body shaking, so turned on it scared her.

Gretta stood frozen, mouth open, her phone still filming.

Gaby sat completely still, her cheeks red, stunned into silence.

Nicole was still on her knees, breath shaky, lips glistening, eyes locked on Pauline like she didn't know whether to smirk or go in for more.

Pauline stood trembling, her legs unsteady, her pussy still aching, her nipple tight and swollen. Her bikini top was somewhere near her feet, her chest bare, her breath uneven.

The room was silent.

Gretta hadn't stopped filming.

Then--

"Alright!" Gaby chirped, clapping her hands like she was breaking up a fight. "That's enough lesbian energy for one bachelorette trip."

She grabbed a towel and tossed it over Nicole's head. "Let's cool the fuck down, ladies."

Nicole laughed under the towel, still kneeling.

Pauline let out a breathless laugh too, one hand covering her chest, the other still shaking.

"I was gonna let it go another thirty seconds," Gretta said, finally lowering her phone. "But damn, I was starting to get jealous."

"I need a frozen drink and a lifeguard to flirt with," Gaby declared, grabbing her sunglasses. "Right now."

Nicole slowly got to her feet, pulling the towel off her head, trying to fix her bikini bottoms like nothing had happened -- but her face was still flushed, and the slight tremble in her thighs betrayed her.

Pauline pulled her top back on, cheeks burning, hair messy, and heart still pounding. She couldn't look at Nicole without feeling the echo of her tongue.

Their eyes met once more.

They didn't speak.

They didn't have to.

Ten minutes later, the four of them were in the elevator, heading down to the lobby.

Sunglasses on. Cover-ups tied at the waist. Perfumed, glowing, gorgeous.

But two of them -- Pauline and Nicole -- couldn't stop shifting slightly in their seats.

Still soaked.

Still pulsing.

Still tasting each other on their lips and between their legs.

And outside the glass doors of the hotel...

Chapter 10 beach club

The moment the doors opened and they stepped into the Encore Beach Club, the world changed.

The bass was thick in the air -- deep, pulsing, vibrating under their feet. Music echoed across the space, a mix of house and tropical beats that made every movement feel like dancing.

The sun was sharp and golden, glinting off the surface of the massive, crystal-clear pool that stretched across the courtyard. Water splashed, champagne bottles popped, and bronzed bodies glistened everywhere. Girls in micro-bikinis. Guys in designer swim trunks and backward caps. Tanned skin, dripping sunglasses, energy charged with flirtation.

The smell of coconut oil, sweat, and vodka Red Bulls wrapped around them like heat.

A VIP host in a black polo shirt greeted them immediately, radio in his hand, clipboard under his arm.

"Bride squad?"

Gretta grinned. "You know it."

He led them past the crowd, up a private path that curved around the pool, past clusters of daybeds and packed lounges, until they reached a raised platform -- their cabana.

It was a shaded, white-and-wood oasis with cushioned loungers, a private plunge pool, chilled towels in a silver bucket, and a minibar already stocked with rosé, tequila, and sparkling water.

Pauline dropped her beach bag with a soft exhale.

"This is... ridiculous."

Gretta smirked. "It's Vegas."

Nicole kicked off her slides and collapsed onto a lounger. "This is the only way I ever want to be outside again."

Gaby peeled off her cover-up and did a little spin. "How fast can we order shots?"

The cabana was perfectly placed -- high enough to overlook the pool, but close enough that the beat of the music still shook in their bones. There were other groups nearby -- some already deep into body shots and lap dances, others sipping from giant watermelon cocktails and laughing like they hadn't slept.

A waitress approached them, petite and stunning, with a notepad and a tray of complimentary shooters.

"Bachelorette vibes only?" she asked with a wink.

"Always," Gretta replied.

Pauline stepped up to the edge of the cabana, her sheer white wrap catching the breeze, her sunglasses low on her nose.

From where she stood, she could see everything -- the water, the people, the sunlit chaos.

The music pulsed harder as the afternoon wore on. The cabana felt like a private island above the chaos -- but still plugged into the electricity of the beach club.

The girls were lounging, drinks in hand, skin glowing under the sun. Pauline leaned against the edge of the plunge pool, her legs submerged, eyes half-closed from the tequila haze and the lingering heat between her thighs.

That's when two guys approached -- tall, tanned, mid-to-late twenties, with athletic builds and the kind of easy smiles that suggested they'd done this before.

"Excuse us," one of them said, holding up a bottle of Don Julio as a peace offering. "We saw the bachelorette sash and figured congratulations were in order."

Gretta raised her sunglasses. "Well, you figured right."

Nicole smirked but didn't look at them. Her attention was still on the waitress, who was wiping down the edge of the bar inside the cabana. Nicole tilted her head and said something low, making the waitress laugh -- then touched her arm as she took the next drink from the tray.

Gretta noticed immediately.

She leaned in toward Nicole and whispered, "What are you doing?"

Nicole smiled, eyes still on the waitress's back. "Discovering things, apparently," she said, biting her straw. "Might be bi. Who knows. Vegas is educational."

Gretta snorted. "You're a menace."

Meanwhile, the guys had taken a step closer.

"You ladies here for the weekend?" the taller one asked. "Or just today?"

"Bachelorette trip," Gaby replied, already raising her glass. "And no offense, but today's about us."

The other guy grinned. "Totally fair. We just wanted to send some shots your way."

"Appreciated," Pauline said, finally speaking up with a lazy smile. "But we're good for now. Just trying to enjoy each other."

The guys nodded, raising their drinks in salute. "Respect. Let us know if you change your minds."

And with that, they walked off.

Gretta leaned back on a lounger, stretching like a cat. "God, I love having the power to reject hot men."

Nicole laughed. "I love that they offered and left gracefully. Maybe the universe is healing."

The music shifted again -- something deeper, slower, the kind of track that made your hips move before your head caught up.

Pauline stood, water dripping off her legs, her wrap now tied at her hips again. "Let's dance."

Gaby was up instantly. "I thought you'd never ask."

Soon the four of them were moving together on the side deck, barefoot, drinks in hand, sun glowing off their skin as they laughed, swayed, and forgot -- for a little while -- everything but the music.

The sun was beginning to dip, casting golden light over the entire club. The music was still pulsing -- louder, deeper -- and the vibe had shifted from party starter to peak afternoon euphoria.

The girls were dancing near the cabana, barefoot, glistening, drinks in hand.

Pauline swayed to the beat, her hips rolling slowly, the white wrap fluttering around her thighs. Gaby moved beside her, tossing her hair back, laughing with abandon. Gretta was in full goddess mode -- hips sharp, eyes scanning the pool like she ruled the whole damn place.

And Nicole?

Nicole was dancing, yes -- but also watching the waitress.

The girl had been making rounds all afternoon, but she always lingered a little longer at their table. Nicole had started flirting openly now -- light touches, low compliments, occasional whispers that made the girl blush.

At one point, as Nicole leaned over the bar for another round, the waitress leaned in and said something only she could hear.

Nicole raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

Then turned back to the group.

"She just invited us to something tonight," Nicole announced. "A private after-hours spot. She says it's bachelorette-friendly."

Gretta lifted her drink. "Now that's customer service."

"Did she give a name?" Gaby asked, already curious.

Nicole nodded. "She'll text the address later. She wants to give us a tour personally."

Pauline raised an eyebrow, smirking. "A tour?"

Nicole just grinned and sipped her drink.

They kept dancing.

Laughing.

Living.

Another group of guys eventually approached -- fit, sun-kissed, clearly full of confidence. One leaned in and offered drinks, trying to be subtle.

Gretta, not even pausing her movement, smiled and waved them off.

"Appreciate it, but we're doing our own thing."

The guy chuckled and raised his hands in surrender. "Respect. You all look incredible."

They walked away.

And the girls didn't stop.

The music dropped into something smoother, sexier -- and they moved closer, swaying together like they were all part of the same pulse.

The sun had dipped low enough to paint everything in amber.

Their skin glistened with sun, salt, and champagne. They were still dancing -- a little slower now -- swaying in sync as the DJ transitioned into deep house grooves for golden hour.

The Encore Beach Club was beginning to empty. The crowd thinned, the music softened, and the energy shifted from loud celebration to lingering glances and post-party haze.

Nicole stood near the bar, getting one last refill -- and stealing one more smile from the waitress.

The girl leaned in close and murmured something at her ear. Nicole tilted her head, amused. She pulled out her phone, tapped in her number, and handed it over with a lazy smirk.

Gretta saw it all and let out a playful groan. "She's flirting again."

Pauline raised her sunglasses and gave Nicole a knowing look. "This is becoming a habit."

Nicole shrugged. "What can I say? I make friends."

Gaby downed the last of her drink. "Let's get out of here before she invites her to the wedding."

They stepped out of the club just as the last light faded from the sky. Hair windswept. Skin warm. Dresses clinging to damp bikinis beneath their cover-ups. The music now behind them, a memory in the air.

They slid into a black SUV waiting at the valet, laughing and glowing and still buzzing from the afternoon.