The moment I stepped through the heavy double doors, I knew this wasn’t a regular party. The air hit me first—thick, humid, laced with perfume, sweat, and something darker, muskier. Low music pulsed through the walls, bass vibrating in my chest, but it wasn’t the kind of noise that drowned you. It was deliberate, steady, like a heartbeat pushing the atmosphere tighter around me.
The lights were dim, golden, flickering from candles scattered across corners. No one was drunk and stumbling. No one was screaming over the music. Instead, they were watching. Touching. Testing each other.
On the far couch, a man lounged back with his shirt undone, his fingers lazily circling the rim of his glass while a woman straddled his lap. She wasn’t shy, grinding down on him slow, her dress already hiked
