Chapter Seven

The hallway outside the private room was too bright, too loud, too… real. My heels clicked awkwardly on the tile as I stepped back into the club’s pulse. Sweat. Flashing lights. Someone laughing too loud. Everything was louder now.

Where the hell is Rhea?

Where the hell is Rhea?

She’d been deep in her own little world earlier — hands down someone’s pants, mouth doing exactly what it wanted, completely unbothered.

I scanned the crowd for her.

Gone.

I weaved through the crowd. Checked the bar. The booth near the DJ.

Nothing.

My stomach dropped a little. She wouldn’t leave, right? Not without me.

I pulled my phone from my bag — finally. Four missed calls, two texts, one emoji with the tongue sticking out, and another of a cab. I didn’t need to guess.

RHEA [1:42 AM]:

WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU.

RHEA [1:44 AM]:

I left. He was hot. He came. I came. Victory. TAKE A CAB. COME HOME. NOW. BRING GUM. U OWE ME A SHOT.

I laughed — genuinely laughed.

I hit call instantly. She picked up on the first ring.

“Where the hell have you been, Slutarella?” she snapped, but she was smiling — I could hear it in her voice.

“Looking for you.”

“Bitch, I was looking for Jesus when that man got on top of me. But it wasn’t the Lord I found, it was a tongue like a miracle and hands that knew exactly what to do.”

“Rhea!”

“What? Don’t act surprised. You saw me. I told you I wanted to sin tonight. And baby, I did not disappoint.”

I leaned against the hallway wall, smiling. “You left that fast?”

“I came, wiped my mouth, tucked my tits back in, and said goodbye with a hair flip. He asked for my number. I gave him.”

“Jesus.”

Get your ass back here so I can give you the full sexcapade lowdown. Every. Juicy. Detail.”

“I’m calling a cab now.”

“Good. And I expect your full confession, too. Don’t think I missed that little look in your eye when you disappeared with that man.”

“I didn’t disappear—”

“You vanished. Into thin air. Like a slutty smoke bomb. If you don’t come back and tell me everything, I’ll assume he kidnapped you with his dick.”

I laughed again. God, it felt good to laugh like this.

“Come home,” she said,

“I’ll be there in twenty.”

“Perfect. Get here.

She hung up.

I stood there a moment longer, my smile lingering. Despite everything, despite the strange turn my night had taken, this—this was still home. Not the club. Not the city. Her. Rhea, with her chaos and lip gloss and way-too-honest mouth.

I stepped out of the club into the night air, heels tapping against the concrete, Heart still humming from more than just the music. I pulled my coat tighter around me, and as I waited for the cab to arrive, I checked my reflection in the glass of a nearby window.

Hair: wrecked.

Lipstick: gone.

I wasn’t sure what the hell tonight had been. But at least I’d get to debrief it with the one person who made even my worst mistakes feel survivable.

And Rhea?

She was the kind of girl who’d hand you wine, listen to your breakdown, then ask for every dirty detail with zero judgment and a handful of popcorn.

Tonight, we’d compare notes.

And maybe—just maybe—laugh about it all before the sun came up.

**********************************************

It was just past midnight when I stepped into the apartment, the hallway lamp flickering gold across the floor. The silence was soft—Elias’s door shut, the kitchen untouched—but I wasn’t alone.

“Arabella Vale,” came a voice from the living room, low and smug and fully awake.

There she was.

Rhea.

Perched on the arm of the couch like she ruled it, hair up in a bun that had definitely seen some action, makeup smudged into sexy war paint. She wore a t-shirt that said God is a woman, and She Moaned, no pants, just lace-trimmed underwear and a wine glass filled to the brim with what I suspected was not her first pour.

“I was about to send a search party,” she said, raising the glass in salute. “Or a vibrator. Depending on how your night went.”

“I see you’re doing just fine.”

She jumped off the couch, still barefoot, and wiggled her hips. “More than fine. Babe—I squirted. Twice.”

I blinked.

She pointed to herself, pride glowing. “Twice.

In his mouth, mind you.

I started laughing, toeing off my boots as she launched straight into the breakdown.

“You’re not serious.”

“Oh, I’m very serious.” She leaned in, eyes wide. “Arabella. He asked to record it. And I was drunk enough to say yes. So somewhere out there, there’s a video of me saying ‘Fck yes, eat it like it’s your last meal’* while grabbing his hair like I owned him.”

I was wheezing.

“After the first round, I was like—okay, that’s it. Done. Retired. Then he starts again. No fingers this time. Just mouth. Gentle. Like he was worshipping. I came in Like three minutes. And I squirted again.”

She laid back dramatically, wine glass on her stomach, eyes closed in bliss.

“My pussy had an exorcism. I’m not the same woman. I left my soul on that man’s tongue.”

I couldn’t breathe from laughter.

And you know what? I still didn’t let him fck me until he earned it.”

“Jesus Christ, Rhea—”

We both broke down laughing again. Rhea refilled her wine glass and offered me some.

Rhea flopped back on the couch

“Okay, your turn,”

I took a sip straight from the bottle and sighed. “Nothing worth bragging about.”

“It wasn’t bad... it just wasn’t good.”

She blinked. “Define not good. Like, he had a weird kink? Micro dick? Smelled like burnt eggs?”

“No, he was actually... fine. Hot, even.

“His name was Jay.

Smelled good. Knew how to dance. We kissed. I was into it.”

“So far, so good.”

“Yeah, but I don’t know. Something was just… missing.” Arabella shrugged. “We made out. It got heated. I gave him head. But I couldn’t let him go further. Like, I physically couldn’t. My body just said no.”

Rhea sat up straighter. “Wait. You didn’t sleep with him?”

Arabella shook her head. “He asked. I almost did. But when the moment came, I just… didn’t want to. I pulled away. Told him he could finish in my mouth — just not in me.”

“Oof. How did he take that?”

“Stunned, mostly. His ego liked it at first. But I let him cum in my hands.” She paused, lips twitching. “Well, on my hands, didn't let him finish in my mouth anymore.”

Rhea’s jaw dropped. “Arabella Vale! You little tease!”

“He deserved it,” she muttered, tossing her head on the cushion. “He didn’t make me cum. At all.”

Rhea gasped. “So he got the royal treatment, and you got… nothing?”

“Exactly. I even wiped my hands, kissed him goodbye, and left.

“God, I love you.” Rhea flopped on top of her dramatically. “You blue-balled a stranger in the middle of a club. That’s iconic.”

“I didn’t mean to. I just—” Arabella paused. “I wanted to feel something. Like what you just described. That hunger. That chaos. But I didn’t.”

Rhea leaned in, quieter now.

Arabella blinked at the ceiling. “Maybe. Or maybe my standards are too high.”

“Well, if your future man doesn’t want to step up, I personally volunteer to ruin his life.”

Arabella snorted. “Thanks, but no thanks.”

Rhea smiled, then pulled the blanket over both of them. “Alright. Let’s make a pact. No more unsatisfying sex. If we’re gonna be hoes, we’re gonna be happy hoes.”

Arabella grinned. “Deal.”

They high-fived above their heads, and for the first time in a long time, Arabella felt like maybe — just maybe — things were beginning to shift.

The night wasn’t perfect. But she didn’t regret it.

And somehow, that was enough.