City lights pulse below the penthouse suite. Velvet ropes guard the entrance. Matthieu commands the decks, platinum edges gleaming under crystal chandeliers. This is our boum, the elite rave young heirs crave. Silk shirts cling to toned bodies. Champagne flutes clink like secrets. I stand arms crossed on the leather balcony, authority incarnate. The hostess. The director. Everyone dances. Julien spins the shy heiress with thick glasses devouring him. Sophie and Valerie pour vintage Dom Perignon, bubbles teasing lips. Perfection. I slip toward my private wing. Then the awkward scion, pimpled and pleading, braces: ‘Claire, dance with me?’ His braces flash. Smile. Agree. Music shifts. Slow. Torride. Panic flickers. I grip his shoulders, push distance. He pulls waist. Long fingers graze leather pants’ edge. Skin exposed. Then the silk string—Sophie’s thong. Disgust surges. ‘Pervert,’ eyes scream. He blushes. Eyes ignite. Knows the director wears lace. Assumes slut. I seize wrists. Guide to hips. We whirl toward the champagne table. Owner stares. Heart races. Back guarded. But stares burn. At table, escape: ‘Sorry, duties.’ Bump. Flute falls. Instinct bends me. Low-rise leather slips. Butterfly tattoo gleams above silk. Sophie grips wrist. ‘Give it back.’ Terror. Lie? No. Run? Julien waits. Beg: ‘He forced me.’ Pitiful. She storms to him. They argue, eyes on me. Nod. Follow to kitchen. Dark. City skyline frames glass walls. Light on. They sit. Stone silence. Sophie snaps: ‘Tell her.’ Julien: ‘Do it, Claire.’ Relief: ‘Three minutes.’ ‘No. Now. Here.’ Childish. Plead eyes to Julien. He: ‘Swap. Yours for hers. Fair.’ No. Sophie hesitates. Julien: ‘She’ll remove yours.’ Her eyes gleam. ‘I can?’ ‘My authority.’ Panic. She bounces. ‘Strip, Director!’ Tremble. Marble chills air. She yanks leather waistband. Buttons rip. Hand dives. Presses pussy through silk. Fingers trace slit. I flood. Terror. Submission. Fingers invade. Clit. Wet. She pulls. Index to lips. Suck. Salty nectar. Mine. Crave more. Sophie grins to Julien’s wink. ‘Told you.’ Betrayal. ‘Now, show your needy cunt.’ Shiver. Crude words ignite. Pants drop. Top off. Bend slow. Ass to her. Peel thong. Offer. Eyes on trimmed bush. ‘Knees. Remove mine.’ Crawl. Hands up thighs. Under mini skirt. Elastic. She fists hair. ‘Mouth!’ Skirt falls. Pushes face. Lips kiss silk. Wet it. She spreads. Tongue slips under. Grip. Taste her. Musky. Like mine. Deeper. Lick folds. Love it. She holds head. Sits chair edge. Pulls back. Four paws. Devour. Tongue lost in her. Julien behind. Fingers plunge my gape. Moan. Sophie yanks hair. ‘Focus, bitch.’ To him: ‘Fuck my mouth.’ Trousers drop. Faded silk boxers. Cock out. She sucks. Gags build. ‘Fuck her savage.’ Yes. His tip breaches. Fills. Thrusts brutal. Head in Sophie’s thighs. Owned. He roars. Pulls. Jets hot on ass cheeks. She shudders. Climax. Me? Edged. Begging. Fingers to clit. No. Hair haul. Bend table. Marble bites skin. Julien palms crack ass. Harder. Fire. Help her thong up. She hands wet silk. Mine now. Dress hasty. Out. Announce: ‘Boum ends. Bedtime.’
