Well he does need the cash

Amid the velvet cushions, thoughts swirled in a fog of lingering ecstasy and sharp remorse, the remote pressing like an unyielding reminder against his thigh. Without those steady pay checks from what used to be his parents, the mortgage would loom unpaid, utilities might flicker out, groceries could dwindle to nothing—hell, even the car might get repossessed if things dragged on. Stability wasn't just a luxury anymore; it meant keeping the roof overhead, the lights on, and this bizarre new life from leading into eviction notices and empty bank accounts.

Questions nagged deeper: how long before neighbours noticed the missing couple? Or worse, relatives started calling, probing into the sudden silence? He couldn't risk exposure, couldn't afford to scramble for a job himself—not with this power dangling possibilities that demanded focus. No, he required someone resourceful, someone with cash flow and connections to smooth over the cracks, to fund the facade without a whisper of suspicion. The owner of this thriving lingerie boutique fit the bill—independent, prosperous, likely discreet in her dealings. Using the Remote on her could secure it all: a silent benefactor, devoted and generous, turning the remote's chaos into a safety net woven from her success.

Peter's hand slipped discreetly into his pocket, fingers wrapping around the cool plastic of the remote. With Val and Mami's teasing touches momentarily paused as they awaited his decision, he twisted the dials under the cover of the couch's armrest—locking in settings for unwavering loyalty, financial generosity, and a role as his personal patron, her wealth flowing freely to support his every need without question. The "Relationship" knob clicked to "Benefactor," infused with layers of devotion and discretion, ensuring she'd handle the bills, the cover stories, everything to maintain his elevated life. Thumb hovering over the 'Imagine' button, he envisioned her as the perfect enabler: successful, eager in her support, her business empire quietly underwriting his whims.

"Yeah," he said finally, voice rough but decisive, meeting Ilona's hungry gaze. "Call her. Tell her to come now."

A triumphant smile curved Ilona's red lips, her posture straightening with a subtle roll of shoulders that pulled gazes like magnets—Val's eyes lingering on the sway of hips, Mami's dark stare tracing the confident arch of her back, Peter's focus snapping to the deliberate grace in each step—as she reached behind the bar for her phone, fingers dancing across the screen with swift precision. "As you wish, my love. She'll be thrilled—special guests like you don't come often." Into the device went a low, professional murmur laced with her accent, followed by a satisfied click as she hung up. "Half an hour, Papi. Plenty of time to... entertain ourselves while we wait."

Wicked glances flashed between Val and Mami, bodies inching closer on the couch to wrap Peter in jasmine-scented warmth and soft curves. "Ay, perfecto," came Val's murmur, sparks of youthful fire igniting as she swung a leg over his lap, denim shorts hitching higher along smooth thighs. Gold bangles chimed with each roam of her hands beneath his shirt, nails scraping lightly over defined abs before she closed in, lips claiming his in a insistent press, tongues twirling in languid swirls that coaxed a deep groan from his chest.

From the side, Mami leaned in harder, full breasts grazing his arm through the clinging red sundress, a single hand dipping low to tug his zipper down with practiced finesse. "Let us make the wait worthwhile, mi rey," she purred, throaty tones heavy with intent as her mouth mapped scorching trails along his neck, teeth grazing the fluttering pulse while fingers encircled his growing firmness, pumping in deliberate, unyielding glides.

Without pausing Ilona closed the distance in a swaying stride, black skirt riding up her thighs as she dropped to her knees between his legs, platinum strands tumbling forward like a silken veil. "Room for one more, my love?" echoed her voice, smooth as velvet wrapped around iron, gaze fixed on Peter alone while polished nails wove into Mami's rhythm, hands trading off in building cadence, full red lips grazing feather-light pecks up his inner thigh.

Time stretched thin amid tangled limbs and ragged breaths, heat building in layers that blurred one touch into the next. Val's weight shifted atop Peter's lap, her lithe form grinding down with rhythmic insistence, pert swells compressing against his bare chest as lips crashed together in hungry, devouring exchanges—teeth clashing lightly, tongues tangling in slick battles that trapped his muffled growls deep in her throat. Hips rolled in tight, deliberate loops, coarse denim chafing against exposed skin until veins throbbed below, every scrape sending jolts that tightened his core.

In fluid alternation, Mami descended again and again, plump lips parting wide to envelop him fully, her deep cleavage lifting and dropping in heavy, breathy waves with each downward plunge, the tongue curling firm around the sensitive ridge at the top before sliding all the way to the hilt in a seamless, claiming glide. Below her, Ilona's attentions synced perfectly, warm mouth tugging gently at his balls one after the other, rolling them over her tongue with soft, sucking pressure that left fresh streaks of crimson gloss blooming across the glistening mess.

Transitions flowed without break, Ilona ascending to position herself above his face, thighs parting as she lowered her slick folds onto his eager mouth—vanilla-musk essence coating his lips and chin, his tongue thrusting upward to explore the velvet depths, eliciting tremors that rippled through her frame. Meanwhile, Val and Mami dropped to their knees in unison, heads bowing low to claim his shaft in shared custody, full mouths sliding along opposite sides in messy, saliva-slicked unions where their lips met at the tip in lingering, overlapping caresses.

Slurping echoes and sharp smacks echoed off the walls, blending with breathy Spanish murmurs spilling from Val and Mami's parted lips—phrases like "sí, Papi, así" and "más profundo"—interwoven with Ilona's rough-edged whispers aimed solely at Peter: "Kyllä, rakkaani... juuri noin... olet kaikken." Fingers dug into his soft flesh wherever it gave—thighs tensing beneath his grasp, hips jerking upward against restraining holds—his body contorting in arches and twists under their unyielding direction, tension winding like a spring in his abdomen until it snapped in shuddering releases, the women pausing just long enough to savour the quiver before stoking the fire anew with fresh grips and laps.

During a hushed pause, soft murmurs and gentle strokes from the women easing the air, Peter's fingers delved into his pocket, brushing the remote's textured surface before grasping it tight. Subtle twists adjusted the dials under cover of the couch's shadow, clicks securing configurations for unwavering support, endless loyalty, boundless means—his pulse quickening in erratic thuds against ribs, breaths shortening as thumb poised above the 'Imagine' trigger.

With a sharp click, the VIP lounge door swung inward right on cue, framing a confident woman in her mid-50s—tailored navy blazer cinched over a white blouse dotted with black polka dots, arms folded across her chest in a self-assured stance, short silver-grey hair cropped close and styled sleekly, her warm smile reaching hazel eyes that swept the space with poised curiosity. "Ilona? You said it was urgent—special guests?"

With his eyes fixing on the newcomer, Peter steadied the remote from within his pocket, aim unwavering. While Val's teeth grazed his earlobe in playful tugs, Mami's palm glided in languid circles along his length, and Ilona's breath carried lewd vows hot against his skin, his finger depressed the button, unleashing a glittering ray straight at the owner.