**"The Most Normal Breakfast in the World"**

The dining table in the Whitmore mansion's kitchen was set like a banquet—fresh fruit, golden waffles, crispy bacon, and at least three kinds of juice. Nothing drew as much attention as the twelve naked people seated around it, some still dripping from the communal shower that had taken place minutes before.

Kris entered in his underwear, holding a coffee mug with the logo of a company he had "convinced" to donate. The lawyer—now kneeling on the floor, licking honey from the socialite's belly—raised her eyes.

"Want some coffee?" Kris asked, as if offering a napkin.

"Sure, darling," she replied, opening her mouth like a baby bird.

He poured the scalding liquid directly onto her tongue. She swallowed without blinking.

"Is it good?"

"Delicious."

The brunette, sitting with her legs spread on the redhead's lap, took a slice of melon with her fingers and rubbed it against Kris's lips.

"Try it," she ordered, as if it were a wine tasting.

He bit into it, letting the fruit drip down his chin.

"Sweet."

"Me too?" asked the executive's wife, leaning forward, her breasts pressing against the plate of waffles.

Kris ran his hand through her hair, pulling her closer.

"Everyone."

And that's how breakfast continued: hands grabbing food from the table and from each other's skin indiscriminately, mouths sharing pieces of toast between wet kisses, and Kris in the center, feeding them like a decadent king—until the doorbell rang.

"It must be the twin sister," murmured the socialite, licking maple syrup from the lawyer's navel.

Kris stood up, letting fall the towel that barely covered him.

— Open the door.

The housekeeper — a 60-year-old woman in an impeccable uniform — entered carrying groceries. Her eyes swept over the scene: the overturned table, the intertwined bodies, the redhead sucking whipped cream straight from the can on the brunette's lap.

— Good morning, Mr. Kris — she greeted, as if she were seeing a Sunday dinner. — I brought the bagels you asked for.

— Thank you, Mrs. Marta. Would you like to join us?

She put down the bags, took off her apron, and sat on the lawyer's lap, running her fingers through her hair.

— Oh, that's fine.

Kris smiled, chewing a piece of bacon that the brunette offered her with her lips.

*Completely normal.*