[Stepsister POV] Cocktails and Calculation

The soft, muted lighting of the lounge bar bathed the space in deep amber tones. Low basslines drifted through the air, blending with the clink of glassware and understated laughter. On the cushioned leather booth sat Loona, legs crossed. Her tight black dress clung flawlessly to her curves, the hem barely reaching mid-thigh, where the subtle sheen of her stay-up stockings caught the dim glow of the spotlights.

Across from her, Nadja sipped her martini. She looked stunning—a low-cut, dark red satin top, her hair cascading over her shoulder in perfectly sculpted waves.

“So you’re telling me this little tramp honestly thinks she has the upper hand now?” Nadja asked with amusement, setting down her glass and letting her manicured nails trail along the edge of the table.

Loona offered a thin smile, took a sip of her cocktail, and leaned back comfortably. Her eyes flashed in the half-light. “Emma doesn't just believe it; she’s reveling in it. Today, right in front of his eyes, she handed the history binder over to Leon, let him grab a handful of her ass, and made out with him. She wanted to show John who gets the reward and who's just the errand boy.”

Nadja chuckled softly and shook her head. “And you’re just letting her get away with it? Usually, you tear brats like that apart before they can even catch their breath.”

“Because right now, it plays directly into my hands,” Loona replied coolly, swirling her drink by the stem. “Emma is predictable, loud, and entirely obsessed with saving her bruised ego. She's sticking strictly to the boundary I drew for her: she doesn't lay a finger on him. Putting him to work on school assignments ensures he stays disciplined during the day, too. He studies, he functions, and he gets a front-row seat to what happens when you approach women without using your head.”

“A steep tuition for him,” Nadja noted, giving her a knowing look. “And what if she goes too far anyway? What if she gets it into her head to touch him again?”

“Then I tighten the noose,” Loona said without a heartbeat of hesitation. Her voice was smooth as velvet, but an icy edge lingered in her eyes. “I have her original video and plenty of leverage to get her expelled from school. I'm only letting her play as long as it suits my purpose. John is my project. He’s going to graduate with top honors, stay in peak athletic shape, and obey on command. I’ve invested far too much time and energy into training him to let some hysterical high school bitch ruin it.”

Nadja grinned wide. “You’ve gotten possessive, darling. Almost caring—in your own sick, twisted way.”

“I’m thorough,” Loona corrected calmly. “And he knows damn well who holds the key in the end.”

A waiter stepped discreetly to their table and set down the leather check presenter. The evening had been lavish: multiple designer cocktails, small plates, top-tier service. The white receipt showed a three-digit total.

Loona cast a passing glance at the figure. No hesitation, no reach for a wallet. Instead, she smoothed down her dress just a fraction, extending her long, flawlessly stockinged legs so her pointed heels and curved thigh caught the warm beam of light just right, resting the bill on the table beside them. With her left hand, she shaped her thumb and index finger into a sharp 'L' right over the receipt.

With her right hand, she drew out her smartphone. The camera dialed into focus: the steep bill, the glossy legs, the condescending gesture.

*Click.*

A few routine taps on the screen. Open the app, attach the photo, punch in the caption:

“Pay up, losers.”

She hit post.

Setting the phone face-up on the polished tabletop, she lifted her glass to drain the final sip.

Not even two minutes passed. The gentle buzz of the device hummed briefly against the wood. The screen woke to life.

A push notification from her banking app slid across the glass:

Instant transfer received: +€240.00

From: Anonymous

Memo: For your drinks, Goddess.

Nadja glanced at the display, leaned back with a shake of her head, and let out a deep, throaty laugh. “Unbelievable. They never learn.”

Loona slid her phone elegantly into her handbag, a mocking smile curving her red-painted lips. “Why should they? Some people exist solely to pick up our tab.”

Nadja threw her head back, laughing openly, drawing glances from the surrounding tables. She downed the last drop of her martini, set the glass down with a firm clink, and ran a hand sensually through her hair.

“Brilliant,” she grinned, leaning across the table, her eyes glittering with mischief. “Enough sitting around plotting strategy, though. Come on, grab your things—we're heading to the club.”

She slid smoothly from the leather booth, adjusting her skimpy satin top, and offered a suggestive wink.

“I didn't come out tonight just to talk. The drinks are paid for, and I fully intend to track down a thick cock to ride until my legs shake.”

A subtle, amused smirk played on my lips as I grabbed my clutch and rose as well. The sharp clicks of our heels moved in perfect unison across the bar's hardwood floor, while back at home, John simmered dutifully in his resin cage right in front of his monitor.