The room Gloria brought him to looked like a high-end private suite.

Dark velvet walls. Mirrors. Satin sheets. Low lighting. The kind of place that smelled like perfume and bad decisions.

And the moment Robert stepped inside?

It hit him.

Five women.

Already waiting.

Sprawled out. Spread wide. Wet.

Lips glossy. Eyes gleaming. Tits bare. Panties already soaked through.

They were in lingerie, every single one dressed like a fucking sin:

Straps and lace. Thigh-highs. Chokers. Pussy barely covered. Mouths already parted.

And Gloria?

She walked in behind him, shut the door, and tossed her jacket off like she was throwing away restraint.

“Ladies,” she purred, loud enough for the...