Chapter 121: Chapter 121

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EVENT

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Kim’s Interest +5

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The UI flashed, Kim’s interest hitting 20/20, a milestone locked in.

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WOMEN – INTERACTIONS

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Jasmine: Interest: 27 / 40★

Kayla: Interest: 5 / 20

Tessa: Interest: 20 / 40★

Kim: Interest: 20 / 40★

Delilah: Interest: 20 / 20★

Cora: Interest: 100 / 100★★★★★

Mendy: Interest: 2/20

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Progress:

★☆☆☆☆ – 20 Interest: Milestone reward

★★☆☆☆ – 40 Interest: Milestone reward

★★★☆☆ – 60 Interest: Milestone reward

★★★★☆ – 80 Interest: Milestone reward

★★★★★ -100 Interest: Milestone reward

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Select a woman to track progress.

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The shopping trip wound down, our bags heavy, the sun dipping low outside the mall’s glass walls. We headed for the exit after… well, cleaning up, the promise of Kim in that blue dress tonight sparking in my mind, along with Delilah’s text and the system’s possibilities.

Life was messy, but moments like this made it worth it.

‪‪❤︎‬‪‪❤︎‬‪‪❤︎‬

The night air was cool, a faint neon glow from the city buzzing around me as I stood in line outside the underground nightclub, my phone glowing with the time: 8:00 PM. Kim was back at home, probably rifling through her new clothes, and the thought of her in that deep blue dress—tight bodice, flaring skirt—made my pulse quicken.

In a few hours, I’d see her in it, her curves lit up under our dim apartment lights. But now, I had a job to do: stalk Sarah and convince her to stop fucking with Delilah. No clue how I’d pull that off, but her social media had tipped me off—she’d be here tonight.

The line was long, a mix of loud college kids, couples pressed close, and a few loners like me, all waiting to get into the club. The entrance was a nondescript metal door in an alley, a flickering sign above it reading “Pulse” in red neon. Music thumped faintly from inside, bass vibrating the ground, mingling with the chatter and laughter around me.

I shifted my weight, hands in my jacket pockets, my mind drifting to Kim—her smirk in the coffee shop earlier, her socked feet working me under the table. Fuck, I couldn’t wait to get home.

The line inched forward. Finally, it was my turn. The security guy—big, bald, with a black polo stretched tight over his chest—held up a hand.

“Only couples on weekends,” he said, his voice flat, eyes scanning me like I was trouble.

I smirked, the system UI flickering above his head. Glad I’d put points in Honeyed Words.

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– Persuasion Attempt: Security

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☐☐☐

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Remaining Chances: 0/2

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The UI popped up with options, and I scanned the first one.

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– Attempting Persuasion

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“Look, man, my date’s already inside.

She’s waiting for me.”

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Base Chance: 30%

Honeyed Words: +30%

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Final Chance: 60%

Upon Succeeding: ☑

▶ Proceed with Persuasion? [Y/N]

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Safe, but only one checkmark. Not enough to seal it. I skipped it, eyeing the next option.

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– Attempting Persuasion

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“Come on, I’m just here to meet a friend.

Won’t cause any trouble.”

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Base Chance: 20%

Honeyed Words: +30%

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Final Chance: 50%

Upon Succeeding: ☑☑

▶ Proceed with Persuasion? [Y/N]

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Better. Two checkmarks, decent shot. I looked at the guard, his arms crossed, waiting. “Come on, I’m just here to meet a friend,” I said, my voice calm, friendly. “Won’t cause any trouble.”

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– Persuasion Attempt: Security

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☑☑☐

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Remaining Chances: 1/2-Success!

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The guard eyed me, then sighed, stepping aside. “Fine, go in,” he said, jerking his thumb toward the door. “You don’t look like trouble.”

Thank you, Charm. Fucking thank you.

I nodded, slipping past him, the metal door creaking as I pushed it open.

The club hit me like a wave—dark, pulsing with purple and blue neon lights that swept across the packed dance floor. The air was thick with sweat, cheap perfume, and the sharp tang of spilled liquor. Bass-heavy EDM throbbed from massive speakers, vibrating my chest, while bodies moved in a chaotic rhythm, silhouettes grinding under strobe lights.

A long bar lined one wall, its surface sticky, bartenders pouring shots with quick hands. Booths with torn leather seats hugged the edges, some occupied by couples making out, others by groups laughing over glowing cocktails. The ceiling was low, industrial pipes exposed, giving the place a gritty, underground feel, like it was carved out of the city’s underbelly.

I scanned the crowd, my eyes adjusting to the dim, searching for Sarah. No sign of her yet, but the night was young, and I had a job to do before I could get back to Kim and that dress.

The club’s neon haze pulsed around me, the bass thumping through my chest as I weaved through the crowd, my eyes catching a few women’s glances—dark eyeliner, glossy lips, their looks lingering. Must be the charm kicking in. Good call on those points.

I reached the bar, sliding onto a stool, the sticky surface catching my elbow.

“Hey,” I said to the bartender, a tall woman with a shaved head, a silver stud in her lip, and a black tank top showing off inked arms. “A beer, please. Mionra Blue.”

“Right away,” she said, her voice low, grabbing a bottle from the cooler, her movements quick and sharp.

I glanced left, spotting Sarah entering through a side door, a guy trailing her, his arm around her waist. Another security guard stood there, beefy and stone-faced, eyeing everyone who approached. Sarah’s blonde hair glowed under the lights, her tight dress clinging to her curves. She disappeared behind the door, and I leaned toward the bartender as she slid my beer over.

“What’s behind that door?” I asked, nodding toward it. “Another room?”

She popped the cap off my bottle, her stud glinting. “You can’t enter without a dom,” she said. “Sorry.”

“Dom?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah. Freaky place.” She smirked, wiping the counter. “You don’t know it?”

Before I could answer, a hand landed on my shoulder, firm but light. A woman sat beside me, her presence electric. Short pink hair, vibrant as bubblegum, framed her face, and her red skirt rode low, barely past her thighs, paired with knee-high black socks. Her top strained against her massive tits, and her smirk seemed permanent, like she knew every secret in the room. Her skin glowed, her aura almost too intense, familiar in a way that made my gut twist. It felt… familiar.

Was she a fucking goddess?

“I’m her dom,” the pink-haired woman said, her voice smooth, glancing at the bartender. “Thanks for the info, Lane.”

“Huh?” The bartender blinked, her voice small. “How’d you know my name?”

“Come on, Evan,” the woman said, turning to me, her smirk widening. “Let’s go through that door.”

“I…” I muttered, glancing around, my beer cold in my hand. “Sure.”

I tossed cash on the counter, took a quick sip of the Mionra Blue, its bitter fizz grounding me, and stood. As we walked toward the door, I stole a glance at her, her hips swaying, confidence radiating.

“Are you…” I started, keeping my voice low.

“A goddess?” she said, her smile stretching ear to ear, playful but sharp. “Of course, Marlowe. What else?”

My jaw tightened. “Do you know… Karamine and Dierella?”

“Why, yes,” she replied, her eyes glinting under the neon.

“Then… who are you?”

“Miko,” she said as we stopped in front of the door, the security guard looming. “Goddess of all fantasies.”

“Is she your dom?” the guard asked, his voice gruff, eyeing me.

“Y-yeah…” I said, my throat dry.

“Mm.” He nodded. “Go in. No phones allowed.”

I handed over my phone, the guard’s meaty hand closing around it, and he opened the door. We stepped inside, and the sight hit me like a punch.

The room was a fucking nightmare. Dim, lit by flickering red and purple lights, the air heavy with musk and moans. No chairs, just men on all fours, women perched on their backs like thrones, some grinding, others lounging. Every guy had a raging boner, their faces flushed, eyes glazed. Naked waitresses moved through the crowd, trays of drinks balanced on their hips, their skin catching the light. At the bar, a naked bartender poured shots, her movements unbothered by the chaos.

In one corner, a woman bounced on a man’s dick, him sprawled on the floor, a dog collar tight around his neck. He barked, fucking barked, as he thrust up, her moans sharp over the pounding music.

My stomach churned. “Oh, fuck me,” I muttered. “What the hell is this?”

Miko smirked, her pink hair glowing. “Humans have… wonderful imagination.”

I spotted Sarah across the room, sitting on a guy’s back, refreshing her makeup with a compact mirror, her blonde hair spilling over her shoulders. She dabbed at her lips, oblivious to the madness around her. I could snap a photo, blackmail her to leave Delilah alone… if only I had my phone.

The club’s red and purple lights pulsed, the air thick with moans and the tang of liquor. Miko led me through the chaos to a ’table,’ two men on all fours, blindfolded and wearing headphones, oblivious to the world, their backs waiting to be sat on. Miko plopped down on one without hesitation, her short pink hair glowing, her red skirt riding up as she crossed her legs. I stared at the other guy, his muscles tense, and shook my head.

“I think I’ll stand,” I muttered.

A waitress approached, naked except for a leather choker, her smile wide and unsettling. “Anything for you two?” she asked, her voice chipper despite the madness around us.

“Water,” I said, glancing at the writhing crowd, my throat dry. “Thanks.”

“Cherry juice,” Miko said, her smirk never fading.

The waitress nodded, still smiling, and sauntered off, her hips swaying. Miko leaned back, her “chair” unmoving.

“So, what’s the plan, Marlowe?” she asked, her eyes glinting.

“Why are you here?” I asked, keeping my voice low. “How’d you find me?”

“I’ve been following you for a whil. Call it curiosity,” she said, casual as hell. “Footjob under the table? Wow, Marlowe. Sneaky.”

My jaw dropped. “Damn how—nevermind.” I muttered, my face heating up.

I needed to focus.

Sarah was into this kinky shit, and I had no plan, no backup. A goddess named Miko tailing me?

Everything was hitting me at once, and I was fucking lost.

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