Primed for Nightime

By the time we finished showering; where Joe fucked me against the fogged glass door, one of my legs hooked high over his forearm; my entire body was trembling. We stepped out, wrapping ourselves in plush hotel robes, the ruined shirts from earlier abandoned on the floor like casualties of war. Buttons scattered, fabric torn; victims of his strong hands and our shared hunger. I didn’t mourn them. I loved the evidence of how badly he wanted me.

The knock came just as we tied our robes.

Skye, Kayla, and Cherry swept in with racks of evening wear, makeup kits, and that same energy they’d carried at the salon. Their smiles were bright, knowing, and when Skye’s gaze landed on Joe; still damp-haired, robe loose across his chest; her cheeks flushed pink. She bit her lip and looked away too quickly.

They set to work.

Skye took Joe, her fingers lingering just a second longer than necessary as she ran product through his hair, combing it back into a slick, sexy wave. Kayla worked on Iris, attentive strokes of the brush, her eyes flicking to Joe every few seconds with quiet hunger. Cherry styled me, quick, precise, but her small hands trembled slightly.

I understood why Joe was in such demand. Clients didn’t just book him; they refused to work with anyone else unless he was behind the lens or personally vouching for the replacement. Iris had told me how he shrugged off the praise in industry circles, humble to the point of deflection, but the truth was undeniable. He made women feel seen; not objectified, not reduced to body parts, but truly beautiful, sexy, powerful, confident. He treated them with respect that bordered on reverence, and they responded with loyalty that went beyond professional courtesy.

Watching Skye’s careful fingers in his hair, the way her breath hitched when he smiled up at her, I felt a possessive thrill mixed with something darker, hungrier. I wanted to see him take them all; watch them fall apart under him, moaning his name, dripping for him; while I encouraged every filthy second.

Once we were dressed, the transformation was complete.

Joe looked like he could step straight into a Bond film; if 007 had been Latin; he looked broad-shouldered. quietly lethal in a tailored black tux that hugged every line of his body. Iris and I flanked him in the full-length mirror; me in a my black cocktail dress that clung to my curves like liquid night, slit high on one thigh; Iris in molten silver that caught every light and made her caramel skin glow. We were his Bond girls tonight; dangerous, elegant, and unmistakably his.

For a heartbeat I stared at our reflection and let the fantasy play out again: Iris not just beside us, but with us; shared lover, shared pleasure, the three of us tangled in sheets, Joe taking us both until we were boneless.

As the stylists said their goodbyes, Skye slipped Iris her business card; personal number scrawled on the back in bold ink. Cherry and Kayla followed suit, each card handed over with a shy smile and a lingering look at Joe. He was too sweet, too focused on us, to realize they weren’t just being friendly.

I almost laughed out loud. Almost asked him to skip the concert entirely so we could test whether he could handle all five of us at once. But I knew the truth: we’d be the ones struggling to keep up with him.

Joe shook his head, eyes roaming over us both with quiet awe.

“You two…” he said, voice low and rough with emotion. “You look stunning. I’m the luckiest man alive.”

He had no idea how right he was; only half of it.

The other half was the career-defining night ahead. Iris had already cleared the time with his agency; publishing houses were circling like sharks for the behind-the-scenes photobook of Sabrina’s Short n’ Sweet tour; major streaming services were already bidding to back his documentary before a single frame was shot. He was about to be seen by the world, and I couldn’t wait to watch his face when he realized it.

“Are we a little too overdressed for a concert?” Joe joked, tugging at his cufflinks as we stepped into the elevator.

I leaned into him, lips brushing his ear.

“Not tonight, baby. This isn’t just a concert. It’s still part of the wooing process Sabrina laid out for you.”

I smiled against his skin. “We’ve got our own private viewing room… and a special surprise waiting later. And if things go the way we all hope, she’ll be your newest client by the end of the night.”

Iris pressed close on his other side, her hand sliding into his.

“Get used to it, Joey. This is just the beginning.”

The elevator doors opened to the lobby.

The night was waiting; and so was the rest of our lives.

We stepped out together, three silhouettes against the city lights, ready for whatever came next.