. The condo was sealed off from the world—no deliveries, no calls forwarded, no husbands texting "where are you." The blinds were drawn to half-mast, letting thin stripes of city light cut across the living room and bedroom floors. The air conditioning hummed low, keeping the temperature perfect for skin on skin. Bottles of water and lube sat discreetly on side tables. The sectional had been pushed back against the walls, leaving the center of the room open except for a thick area rug and several large cushions dragged from the guest room. The balcony doors were cracked just enough for the night breeze to carry in faint jasmine and distant traffic, but the glass remained a silent witness.
Seven women arrived between 7:45 and 8:15 p.m. Each one entered already half-undressed or ready to be—lingerie sets chosen specifically for tonight, heels clicking in unison as they gathered in the living room. No small talk. No drinks. No need for pretense.
