The base thudded through my ears, each beat shaking my chest. I caught only fragments of the song before the room went dark.

Pull me closer, take me tonight… ♪

Strobe lights slashed across my face. I needed air. I needed water. Where am I?

Shivers up my spine, stimulation amplified… ♪

The lights were mesmerizing. Wave-like motions, like water spilling through invisible currents, calmed me.

Lose yourself and leave the past behind … ♪

Sudden flicks jolted toward my eyes, exploding into clusters of color, like fireworks bursting right in front of me. But the calm cracked. Anxiety crept in. What am I doing here?

Her hands slid around my waist. She leaned into my ear.

“Baby girl, are you having fun? Ryan did a personal light show just for you. Did you like it?”

She kissed my cheek, turned me to face her.

“Oh, it’s hitting you now. Hold me. You’re okay—just breathe through it. I’m not leaving you.”

“Where am I?” I asked hazily.

“The Ivy. We came to see that new Aussie band.”

I’m high, I’m climbing… ♪

The music faded out. My hearing dimmed. My breath quickened. Then her soft hands moved up and down my arms.

“I love you, Emma. Hold my hands. Let’s dance. You’re almost through it.” She kissed my cheek again.

Your dangerous love is dragging me down… ♪

The fog lifted. My heart slowed. She smiled at me, and suddenly the lyrics rushed back—I was singing them.

“Welcome back, baby girl. You survived your first peak. How do you feel?”

Her lips pressed against mine before she tugged me back onto the dance floor.

*****

The night blurred until we stumbled into our hotel room. Justin’s face lit up the screen—he was on FaceTime with her, grinning.

We collapsed onto the floor in a heap of laughter. “Why is it so dark? Can’t you turn on a light?” he asked, squinting into the camera. Callie and I fumbled along the walls, searching for a switch we couldn’t find. That only made us laugh harder.

Finally, it hit us—we weren’t in the bedroom at all. We were sitting in the closet.

The realization set us off again, giggles echoing in the cramped space until our stomachs hurt.

Callie walked over to the bed to talk to Justin, and the second her warmth left me, chills raced across my skin. My eyes locked on the massive Jacuzzi tub.

I turned on the taps, the rush of water filling the silence as bubbles foamed to the surface. Under my breath, I sang the fading echo of the concert ♪ I’m high, I’m climbing … ♪ while my fingers slipped the straps from my shoulders. The dress whispered down my body, pooling at my feet. I stepped forward, ready to sink into the froth—when a sound cut through everything.

Justin’s moan.

Low, raw, hungry.

My head snapped toward Callie, and only then did I see how she’d angled the phone, holding it steady, letting him watch every move I made. The realization sent a rush through me hotter than the bathwater.

I slid into the bubbles, the fizz wrapping around me as the music in my head throbbed on. My body started to move to it without thought, hips swaying under the water.

“She’s super cute, babe. Get in with her.”

Callie’s laugh answered him, soft and knowing, and then I felt her presence behind me. She slipped into the tub with a slow ease, lifting the phone just enough for Justin to keep watching. Her hand traced over my shoulder, delicate, teasing, and my head fell back naturally against her chest.

His voice hummed through the speaker, questions spilling, each one pulling a laugh or a sly answer from us. The bubbles hissed, the water cooling, but neither of us seemed to notice.

“I can’t believe we’ll be with you this time next week in Australia,” Callie said between giggles. “See you soon, baby.”

*****

One week later, I sat at Gate C49 with Callie, waiting to depart for Sydney. The whole thing felt surreal. I’d only met her two months ago at a mutual friend’s birthday. One too many gins later, we booked tickets on a whim. I hadn’t realized she’d met Justin in Europe that summer—or that this trip was really to see him.

Three weeks of being a third wheel. Woo.

The blast of Sydney heat hit me the second we stepped off the plane. Our December winter felt like a distant memory—this was midsummer, and the air was smoking hot. I ducked into a restroom to change into a light dress, something flirty that clung just enough.

Justin was waiting outside. Jet-black hair, warm brown eyes, short but confident enough to own it. He drove us straight to Darling Harbour for drinks. The view of the city glittering across the water made my chest ache—I was already in love.

We laughed about last weekend, about my first Molly trip. Justin leaned in with a smirk. “Wanna try it again with us?”

Callie’s eyes sparkled. She was trouble. She thrived in this scene. I wasn’t like her—I had never even taken a puff of a cigarette. She globe-trotted her way into chaos; I sat at a desk crunching numbers.

Our Airbnb became home base for the next few days. Justin worked, so Callie and I played tourist—kangaroos and koalas at the zoo, a ferry ride to Manly, hopping on and off buses, clinking cocktails at the Opera House. Our neighborhood in Surry Hills pulsed with sex. Tool Shed being the local sex shop, PupNPussy for pet supplies and Lick Her Up was the go-to liquor store. Everything screamed naughty. Callie dragged me into Pleasure Chest to buy Justin a cock ring. “Drives men crazy,” she whispered.

By the weekend, our fridge was stocked with nothing but alcohol. No food. Just booze. We were already in trouble.

The party started early. By ten a.m. the condo throbbed with bass, a sea of guys flowing through the doors. Justin’s friends took one look at us—the Canadians—and grinned. That’s when I saw him. Steely.

Brown hair, blue eyes, golden skin. Out of my league. Way out. But Callie had that sixth sense. Before I could open my mouth, she was pairing us up for beer pong.

We were going to Field Day, a popular music festival. I stuck to booze—no drugs this time—and followed the crowd to the concert. Steely and I were inseparable, hands brushing, smiles lingering. Hours blurred into sweat and music until he pulled me hard against him and kissed me. Greedy. Hungry. The world spun around us. When we finally broke apart, the crowd had circled, hooting, clapping, turning our kiss into a spectacle.

Back at the house, exhaustion crashed over me. I wanted nothing more than a cold shower. The water poured over my sticky skin, cooling me, numbing me, washing away the night. My lips still throbbed, swollen from his kiss.

I wrapped myself in a towel and headed down the hall to get some water. As I passed Callie’s room, the movement inside caught my eye and my feet locked.

She and Justin were tangled together on the bed, mouths locked, hands roaming.

Her eyes caught mine.

“Come here,” she whispered.

Justin’s gaze followed hers, heavy, inviting. The air in the room thickened. My feet moved before my brain caught up.

Callie reached for me first. Her kiss was sweet at first, then urgent, tasting faintly of alcohol and heat. My towel loosened as Justin’s hand pulled it away.

The three of us tangled in soft sheets and harder kisses. It wasn’t a threesome. It was mouths and hands, Callie pulling me closer while Justin leaned in, his breath warm against my skin, his eyes flicking between us like he couldn’t decide where to look.

Every touch sent sparks skittering up my spine. The room smelled of sweat and sex, muffled music vibrating through the walls. My head spun, not from drugs this time but from the raw heat of it, the dizzy realization of where this could go. I liked it. It was fun. She brought out this side to me that was wild and free.

The heat rose—Justin’s hands on my body, her lips moving over mine—until Callie  suddenly broke away. With a mischievous grin, she reached into the nightstand and pulled out the cock ring, and that was my cue to slip from the bed. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to, not exactly. But I was exhausted, my head still spinning, and I’d never crossed a line like that before.

The following weekend Justin was back over for a mellow night.  Callie wandered in with Australia’s famous Burger Rings as a snack, and handed me a bowl. We poured drinks and dealt cards, laughter buzzing around us, when I glanced up at the picture on the wall. Garfield the cat was stepping out of the frame, paws padding right across the plaster.

I erupted into giggles.

I’d been tipsy before, but this wasn’t alcohol. My thoughts fired too quickly to catch, tumbling over each other. Then Callie’s hand settled on mine.

“We wanted you to have fun with us,” she murmured, “but we knew you’d be too in your head to try shrooms—so I added them to your Burger Rings.”

All I could do was roll my eyes. I should’ve known. And yet, in hindsight, I was glad—because otherwise, I never would have tried.

We drifted to the living room, mellow house music pulsing softly. Outside, my body felt still, calm. Inside, I was a riot of color and sensation. Callie was there too, restless, her energy sparking off mine. Our hands brushed, fingertips grazing, and it was like a current passing between us.

Justin watched from the couch, eyes fixed, as Callie and I rose and moved to the center of the room. We danced slow, seductive, our bodies swaying in the low light. I was lost in her—until Justin’s voice broke in.

“Can my friends come by?”

Steely’s name flashed through my mind. Heat pooled low in my stomach. The thought of him made me ache.

But when the door opened, my heart dipped—three guys, none of them Steely.

I was so high, my head cradled in Callie’s lap, her fingers tracing over my nipple in lazy circles. The men glanced over, amused, but carried on with their own conversation. I remember staring at one guy’s tattoo—an entire pirate ship etched across his leg—and I swore it began to sail.

“The ship’s moving,” I whispered, dissolving into giggles.

Eventually, one of them yawned and disappeared down the hall. Another two left, leaving the night quiet again.

Justin leaned in, his voice low. “Kiss her again.”

So we did. Callie’s lips soft, her arms curling around me. His eyes burned on us as he whispered, “Emma, I’ve got a surprise for you.”

I was too high to make sense of it, tangled in Callie’s arms, drowning in music. Then a hand caught mine and pulled me away.

I turned—and there I was, locked in Steely’s arms.

He gave me a little kiss and went to sit next to Justin on the couch.

We danced for the boys, slow and teasing, slipping out of our clothes piece by piece. Our lips brushed in little kisses, heat sparking until the tension became unbearable. Callie finally pulled Justin toward her room, leaving us alone.

Steely didn’t hesitate. He scooped me up like I weighed nothing, carrying me to my bed. His mouth never left mine—hungry, desperate. We fell onto the mattress, lost in the kiss, until a sharp snorestartled us both.

The guy from earlier—curled up on the far edge of the bed, dead asleep.

Steely and I froze for a second, then burst out laughing, muffling it against each other’s mouths. His hands gripped my thighs tighter, hauling me over him like he refused to waste another second. I straddled his hips, lowering myself onto his cock, and the laughter vanished into gasps.

The stretch was thick, perfect, my body clenching around him as I found a rhythm. Slow, steady. His hands traced up my waist, across my breasts, his thumbs brushing my nipples until my head tipped back and my moan filled the room.

I rode him harder, grinding down, chasing the slick heat that built with every movement. The bed creaked. His eyes locked on mine, blue and burning, like he was just as lost as I was. It was too much—every nerve on fire, every pulse sharper than the last. Almost overstimulating.

My orgasm hit quick and brutal, shuddering through me as his grip dug into my hips. He groaned, deep in his chest, spilling into me, and for a second we both collapsed, foreheads pressed, breath ragged.

Then his lips brushed my ear.

“On all fours. Face the window.”

I shivered, crawling forward, bracing my forearms against the mattress. The closed balcony door framed the night, and faint voices drifted from outside. My breath caught when I lifted my head—four people stood there, watching us.

How long had they been there I wondered to myself. I didn’t care anymore.

Heat rushed through me, sharp and humiliating, but instead of pulling back, my body surged hotter. The sound of their muffled laughter, their silhouettes leaning in closer—it only made me wetter.

Steely pushed into me again from behind. My cry echoed against the glass.

He fucked me with long, deliberate strokes, my ass bouncing back into him, hair falling wild into my face. My moans came louder, ragged, until his rhythm shifted. Slowed. Angled deeper.

The sensation punched sharp, tighter, hotter. My eyes flew wide, a gasp tearing out of me.

He wasn’t in my pussy anymore.

He was in my ass.

My body seized, shock and pleasure colliding. I clawed at the sheets, torn between panic and ecstasy. The stretch burned, unfamiliar, but every thrust blurred the line between pain and overwhelming bliss.

Outside, the watchers hooted louder, their voices egging him on. My shame dissolved under the heat of it, replaced with raw need. I shoved back against him, greedy for every stroke, every inch.

Steely’s groans grew rougher, his grip on my hips brutal as he drove harder, faster. My moans spilled uncontrolled, high and desperate. My orgasm ripped through me like fire, my whole body trembling as he slammed one last time and emptied into me, collapsing against my back.

The sun was bleeding into the sky by the time we dropped to the sheets, tangled and ruined. My head spun, breath shallow, heart still racing.

We passed out almost instantly, tangled in sweaty sheets, the muffled voices outside fading into silence.

When I opened my eyes again, the room was bathed in pale light. My body ached, heavy and sore, but Steely’s arm was still draped over me, his breath slow against my neck. For a moment, I just let myself sink into it. The heat of him, the weight of him.

But when I tried to roll over, pain knifed through me so sharp I bit down on my lip to keep from crying out. My ass throbbed like it had been split open, every shift of my body a reminder of what we’d done.

By the time we dragged ourselves up a few hours later, Callie and Justin were already in the kitchen. Someone suggested pancakes at The Rocks, and somehow we all stumbled there together.

I could barely sit. Every wooden chair at the café felt like punishment, but I forced a smile and pushed through breakfast until we said goodbye to the boys.

After, Callie dragged me to a smoothie place down the street. We perched on bar stools, sipping in silence until she finally leaned in, grinning.

“Alright. You’ve been walking funny all morning. What the hell happened?”

I stared at my cup, cheeks burning. The words slipped out before I could stop them.

“He fucked me in the ass.”

Callie’s eyes went wide. She inhaled too sharply and nearly spat smoothie all over the counter. “You’re joking!” she laughed, clutching her stomach. “Oh my god—that explains everything!”

Her laughter was so loud people turned to stare. She wiped tears from her eyes, shaking her head. “I thought you guys were just… loud last night.”

“One minute he was in my pussy and the next … well he said he slipped,” I muttered, still half in shock myself.

That only made her laugh harder. She whipped out her phone, dialing without hesitation. “Justin has to hear this.”

The moment he picked up, she was already wheezing. “Babe—you won’t believe it. She had anal last night!”

I buried my face in my hands.

On the other end, Justin groaned. “That’s not a thing. No man has ever just ‘slipped.’ He did it accidentally on purpose. You don’t mix those holes up.”

Callie howled, collapsing against the counter, tears streaming. I wanted to crawl into the floor. Steely’s smug grin from breakfast flashed in my mind, and for the first time all day, I couldn’t help but laugh too.

The next day was brutal. We had a connection in New Zealand before heading home. By the time we boarded, I could barely walk. Every step was fire, every seat a new kind of torture.

I shuffled down the aisle, clutching my carry-on. Window seat. Callie in the middle. A stranger on the aisle.

The moment I sat down, pain stabbed sharp and deep. Callie grinned wickedly. “You look like you just got off a horse,” she whispered.

I shot her a look. “Shut. Up.”

She lost it. Full giggles, shoulder shaking. The stranger gave her a curious look, and that was all the invitation Callie needed.

“She can’t sit because she had anal for the first time,” she blurted.

I wanted the plane to crash right there. My face flamed, my hands clapped over my eyes. “Callie!”

But the stranger just blinked… and then grinned. “Well, that’s ironic,” she said calmly. “I own a sex toy company.”

Both our jaws dropped.

She unzipped her carry-on, pulled out a little pouch, and handed it over like a party favor. Inside were plugs, bullet vibes, sleek little toys in bright colors. She slid a business card across the tray table, metallic pink logo gleaming.

Callie lost it all over again, waving the card at me. “You can’t make this shit up!” she wheezed.

I buried my face in my hands, half mortified, half laughing. This was our life now. Strangers on planes giving us sex toys like mints.

By the time we landed back in Canada, I was wrecked. My body hurt in ways I didn’t know were possible, my bag rattled with sex toys from a stranger, and Callie still couldn’t tell the story without wheezing laughter.

People back home asked how the trip was. I smiled, shrugged, gave the safe answers—sunny, beautiful, unforgettable. Truth be told, it was a trip of firsts and sexual awakenings.