You stand there

He stood there, naked and hard, hands cupped desperately over his crotch, watching her leisurely search. Her glances over at your body didn't help either. Every second felt like an eternity. Finally, she produced a small silver key with a triumphant "Aha!" She held it up, dangling it between two fingers.

Relief flooded through him. "Thank you," he breathed, taking a step toward her.

She held the key just out of reach. "Patience. I want to enjoy the view a little longer. It's not every day I get a full inspection."

She walked back to the front door, and he followed, his bare feet silent on her hardwood floor. She reached for the doorknob, and he positioned himself behind her, ready to bolt the moment the door cracked open.

Gaby paused, her hand on the knob, and looked back over her shoulder at him. Her smile was pure, unadulterated wickedness. "Oh, and one more thing, Ethan."

His stomach dropped. "What?"

"That elevator? That was my book club. Four lovely ladies. I texted them not to knock." She turned the knob, pulling the door open a few inches. "Told them to wait in the hallway. Said there'd be a show."

"What? No—" He lunged forward, but she was faster.

She pulled the door wide open, and with a flick of her wrist, tossed the key out into the hallway, left side towards Chloe's apartment. It arced through the air in a glittering tumble and landed with a soft *clink* on the carpet, about ten feet from the door.

Ethan froze, his eyes going wide. He leaned forward just enough to peek around the doorframe.

Four women stood in the hallway, arranged in a loose semicircle facing you. They ranged in age from late twenties to early fourties, all dressed in casual weekend clothes, all holding coffee cups or tote bags. And all of them were staring directly at him with expressions ranging from shock to outright delight.

"Is that him?" one of them—a petite brunette in yoga pants—whispered, her hand flying to her mouth.

Before he could retreat, before he could slam the door or beg Gaby for mercy, she placed both hands on his bare back and *shoved*.

He stumbled forward, propelled out into the hallway, completely naked. His hands flew to cover his cock, cupping it desperately, but there was no hiding the situation. He was hard, flushed, and utterly exposed in front of four strange women. The door clicked shut behind him with a decisive, final sound.

Silence. For one heartbeat. Two.

Then the brunette giggled. It broke the dam. The women erupted—gasps, laughter, whispered commentary that was anything but quiet.

"Jesus, look at *that*."

"Is he—oh my God, he's completely—"

"Gaby, you absolute *legend*!"

The key lay on the carpet, just in front of the semicircle of women, glinting mockingly in the fluorescent hallway light. Between him and freedom stood four very interested, very amused book club members. And he was covering himself with his hands, his cock throbbing insistently against his palms, betraying every ounce of his humiliation.