Five hundred credits and a passive unlock. No prerequisite chain. No grinding. From a purely mechanical standpoint, it was too efficient to ignore. I accepted it without overthinking and finally leaned back, giving the TV my full attention.

"Um…" Minne spoke up suddenly, fidgeting with the hem of her maid outfit. "I… I had a cat once."

Her speaking out of nowhere caught my attention. Before I could respond, Jasmine leaned slightly toward her.

"Is that the cat on your phone wallpaper?" she asked.

That earned my curiosity.

"Yes," Minne said softly. "Her name is Kim."

Kim blinked. "Kim?"

Minne nodded shyly. "Yes."

"…I guess that works for a cat," Kim muttered with a smile.

"Where is she now?" I asked. "You said 'had.'"

"She lives with my mother," Minne replied. "She's two years old."

"What's that in human years?" Nala asked.

"Twenty," I said immediately. "Don't ask me why. I just know."

Tessa walked in from the hallway at that moment, looking perfectly composed. No sign of earlier tears. She headed straight for the fridge.

"Was she a stray?" Tessa asked as she grabbed a beer.

"No," Minne replied. "A British shorthair."

Tessa popped the cap off and closed the fridge with her foot. "Figures. Those get sick easily. Strays are tougher."

Minne shrugged. "She cost us a lot, but I love her."

Tessa sat down next to Nala, taking a slow sip of her beer.

I checked my phone. Another notification. Another message from an unknown number. Another link. I sent it straight to spam, then hesitated with my finger hovering over Mendy's name.

"I should call her." I whispered to myself.

I glanced at the others, then stood up and stepped into the hallway as I dialed. After a few rings, she answered. The sound of the news played faintly in the background.

"Hey, Evan," she said. "I was actually about to call you."

"I'm good," I said. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm managing," she replied. "Thanks again for helping me rearrange my bedroom. It feels a lot more open now."

"Anytime," I said.

She exhaled softly. "So… what's up?"

"I just wanted to check on you," I said. "Make sure you were okay."

"I am," she said. "Penelope's here with me. She says hi."

"Is that a real hello, or is she flipping me off?" I asked.

"I'd rather not answer that," Mendy said, amused.

I let a small pause settle between us. "About the other night…"

"Yes?"

"Would you be okay with doing something like that again?" I asked carefully. "The girls really liked having you around."

"I…" She hesitated. "Maybe. It's just… Penelope's right here."

"Got it," I said. "Well, just know they'd be really happy to see you again."

"T-thanks," she said, clearly unsure what to do with that.

"I won't keep you," I added. "Say hi to Pen for me."

"I will. Bye, Evan."

"Bye, Mendy."

I ended the call and leaned against the wall for a moment before heading back to the living room. Just when I was about to sit on the chair again, another text came in. That same virus link, damn. These scammers really loved me today.

I sat on the chair, and got another text. Then another. I exhaled, a little annoyed, and just when I put the text in spam again… I received another text, this time from a number that wasn't in my contacts.

'Kariola Hotel. In thirty. Room 5c'

I knew Kariola Hotel, it was close to our penthouse. But who was it and why they wanted meet? I looked at my phone screen for a while, to the message, then clicked on the link that was sent to me. It directed me to a page, that loaded very slowly.

When it did, I saw it… it was a woman's photo. Her hand covering her eyes. She was in front of the mirror and was wearing black pentyhose and that was it. Her pussy, a little hairy on top, was glistening, and she had a dildo in the other hand. I could see the lube on it, fuck.

"Wait…"

I recoginzed her body. A little chubby, but not too much. Her massive tits were sagging, her nipples hard and areola big. Her hips was huge… her short brown hair messy. Was that fucking Carrie? She was sending me her photo… what the fuck?

I felt my dick throb at the sight of her. Kariola Hotel. In thirty? That bitch… was this a fucking booty call? She didn't get enough of me so she was letting me know. I didn'tk now she was such a slut like this.

"Well, well, well." I muttered. "Look at you, Carrie…"

"What's that?" Jasmine asked.

I wasn't going to hide anything from them. "Carrie wants to meet with me."

"Carrie?" Kim asked. "What does she want?"

"I'll go and see." I grinned. "I won't be late. Promise."

"Be safe." Nala said. "And be careful around her."

"I will. Don't worry…"

❤︎‬‪‪❤︎‬‪‪❤︎

I stood in front of Room C5, floor five, hands shoved deep in my pockets. The corridor was narrow and dim, red and pink neon from the hotel's sign bleeding through the windows, painting everything in a cheap, headache-inducing glow. If this was a trap, I had more than enough credits for Time Stop. It would be no problem.

A faint cigarette stench leaked from under the door. This place wasn't Carrie's scene—low-rent, last-resort hotel, cracked paint, stained carpets. Not the kind of spot a woman like Carrie Beldenwary would choose. Unless she had no choice.

"Alright," I muttered under my breath. "Here goes nothing."

I knocked twice—firm, not loud. A few seconds passed. Then the lock clicked, and the door cracked open an inch.

I didn't move at first. Then I pushed it open with the toe of my boot and waited.

The room was exactly what I expected: single bed shoved against the left wall, sheets crumpled and torn in places, holes worn through from years of use. Right wall had peeling flower wallpaper curling at the edges. A small desk next to the bed, mini fridge humming underneath. No wardrobe, no chair, no nothing. Just the bed, the desk, the fridge, and the smell of stale smoke hanging heavy.

And there she was.

Carrie fucking Beldenwary, sitting on the edge of the bed like she owned the place. Mini skirt barely covering anything—red lace panties peeking out when she shifted. Black blouse cropped high, stomach bare, stripes at the elbows. Chubby in all the right places—thick thighs, full hips, heavy tits straining the fabric. Pure milf energy, raw and unapologetic.

"Hmm…" I stepped inside, letting the door click shut behind me.

She stood without a word, waiting. I walked straight to her, stopping close enough to feel her body heat. Our eyes locked—silent challenge hanging between us. But that fight was over a long time ago. I'd already won.

I grabbed her arm, spun her around, and pushed her against the wall—back to me, cheek pressed to the peeling wallpaper. She slapped both hands flat against it for balance, glancing back at me, defiant but silent.

I kicked her left foot wider with my boot—firm tap against her ankle, forcing her stance open. Then the right. Her legs spread wide now, ass arched toward me, skirt riding up, red panties stretched tight over her curves. Fuck me, she was such a whore in that clothes.

"What a fucking slut you are," I whispered, hooking my fingers into her panties and yanking them down to her thighs. My hand brushed her pussy—wet, soaked, dripping onto my fingers instantly. "I put your little cuck of a son behind bars. And that's how you get revenge?"

"I…" Her voice cracked, breath shaky.

I slapped her ass through the skirt—hard, sharp crack. "Shut up."

Fuck. I was already earning Villain points just thinking about this, but right now? I didn't care. All I saw was her—Carrie Beldenwary, bent over, ass out, pussy dripping for me.

I unbuckled my pants, letting them drop. Cock sprang free—thick, throbbing, veins prominent. I grabbed it, rubbing the head up and down her slit, coating myself in her wetness.

Her body shook, both hands braced on the wall, ass pushing back instinctively, chasing the friction.

"Greedy bitch," I sneered, keeping the slow tease. "Don't fucking move."

She froze, trembling.

"Beg," I whispered into her ear, breath hot on her skin. "Fucking beg."

She bit her lip.

I grabbed her hair, yanked her head back. "Bite that lip again and I walk out. Now beg."

"P-please…"

"Please what?" I pressed the head against her entrance, not pushing in—just teasing.

"Please… fuck me," she said, voice defiant but cracking.

"Good girl." I let her hair go. "Do you deserve this dick?"

"I'm…"

"Do you deserve this dick?"

"Y-yes…"

"No." I rubbed the head against her clit, slow circles. "You fucking don't. You have to earn it."

"How…?"

"Tell me what you are."

"A… I'm…"

"A bitch." I slapped her ass again—lighter this time, teasing. "What are you?"

"A bitch…"

"Good fucking girl," I rasped, voice thick. "Louder."

"I'm a bitch," she said, voice shaking but clearer. "I'm your bitch—please, Evan, fuck me—"

"Again."

"I'm your bitch!" she cried, pushing back. "Please, fuck me, need your cock—need it inside me—"

I kept rubbing, slow, torturous. "Why do you need it?"

"Because… because I'm a slut," she gasped. "Because I want it—need it—please—"

"Beg like you mean it."

"Please, Evan—fuck me, ruin me, use me, fill me, please—I'm begging you—need your cock—need you to fuck me like the whore I am—"

I groaned, cock throbbing. "Good fucking girl."

I lined up and thrust in deep—one hard push, burying myself to the base.

She screamed, body jolting forward against the wall. "FUCK—YES—"

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