Girls Night out

The house is quiet again except for the low hum of the AC and the faint clatter of Marcus’s truck pulling away from the curb.

Megan is sprawled across the guest-room bed, naked, glowing, and half-asleep with the goofiest smile you’ve ever seen. The sheets are wrecked, her thighs still trembling every few seconds from aftershocks. You lean in the doorway, arms crossed, taking in the sight like a proud coach.

“You good, baby?”

She gives a lazy thumbs-up without opening her eyes. “I’m… floating. I don’t think my legs work anymore.”

You laugh under your breath, walk over, and drop a kiss on her damp forehead. “Stay as long as you want. Sheets are clean tomorrow, food’s in the fridge, Uber account’s still linked. I’m heading out.”

Megan cracks one eye. “Hot date?”

“Girls’ night. Emma and Riley. We’re painting the town red and probably ruining a few egos while we’re at it.” You smooth her hair back. “I’ll be late. Or early tomorrow. Don’t wait up.”

She murmurs something that sounds like “Have fun breaking hearts” and is out cold before you even close the door.

You shower fast (hot water sluicing Marcus’s scent off your skin, though you can still feel him with every step), then slip into a backless black mini that barely qualifies as a dress and the Louboutins that make your legs look illegal. Hair down, red lip, diamonds in your ears that Ricky bought you after a particularly profitable quarter.

Phone buzzes as you’re grabbing your clutch.

Emma:

Chauffeur’s outside. Riley’s already in the limo doing shots. Move your fine ass, queen.

You smile, lock up, and step into the night. The city lights are waiting, and so are two of the prettiest, meanest girls in L.A.

Time to go make some memories.