Heels, Hunger,and Head.

GALWAY DISTRICT,BAERZ AND CO ESTATE,BAE APARTMENT,GALWAY IN IRELAND... 9 PM.

Tyra stumbled out of the elevator, one eye barely open, her pink, thin, transparent nightie clinging lazily to her skin. She looked like sleep was still cradling her soul,until the piercing ring of the doorbell ripped her from that near-bliss. The timing couldn't have been worse. Just as she was about to slide into the dream she'd been dancing with since dusk, the bell sang like a deranged choirboy.

She reached the silver iron door and peeked through the spyhole with one heavy-lidded eye. Standing there, with ridiculous sheepish grins on their faces, were her two personal assistants...Elena and Bione.

Tyra hissed as she opened the door, face already wrinkled in frustration.

"Seriously, girls?"

Elena's smile widened. "We came to cook, that's why."

That was all it took. Tyra's irritation began to dissolve. Mention food, and she could almost forget the crime of waking her up.

They both slid inside, eyes instantly drinking in the apartment's beauty for the umpteenth time. It didn't matter how many times they'd been there...it was always a visual orgasm.

The sitting room radiated understated luxury. It was a serene oasis bathed in a soft golden glow, thanks to the floor-to-ceiling windows that welcomed the city's nocturnal light. Pale pink walls cradled the room like silk-lined arms. Everything...the arrangement, the warmth, the aura...screamed curated perfection.

Plush, cream-colored sofas and armchairs sat elegantly around a low, sleek coffee table crafted from polished silver. Velvet and silk upholstery hugged every piece of furniture, catching the light just enough to feel like whispered secrets. Crystal vases, ornate golden frames, rare leather-bound books...all adorned every visible surface like artifacts in a queen's tomb.

The chandelier above cast prismatic rainbows across the room, thanks to its intricate web of crystals. It was opulence without apology.

"Home sweet home," Elena murmured, sniffing the air as if it carried the scent of royalty. "Now this is what we call an apartment,not the container those agencies stuffed us into."

Tyra didn't even bother laughing. She'd heard some version of that line too many times. Still, Elena had a way of tweaking it each time, and it always landed somewhere between hilarious and tragic.

Meanwhile, Bione had gone straight to the kitchen like a woman on a mission. She opened the refrigerator, expecting something better, but was met with the same apocalyptic snack stockpile.

Chips. Canned food. Beverages. Fruits. Fruit juice. Red wine. Popcorn. Milk. Ice cream,vanilla, chocolate, strawberry. Chocolate cookies. More cookies. Even more chips.

No veggies. No beef. No real food. Just a loaf of bread... at least there was that.

Bione grumbled, "How many times do I have to restock this damn fridge? How do you expect us to cook when there's nothing in here to cook?"

Tyra, now leaning against the wall like an amused goddess, smiled dumbly.

"You can make chocolate smoothie."

Elena and Bione gave her synchronized head shakes.

Sighing, Bione started gathering the "ingredients": popcorn, chocolates, ice cream, milk, sugar, cookies, and the lonely loaf of bread.

"I really hope this dessert goes well," she mumbled. "I'll try making something edible out of this mess."

Tyra licked her lips like a child about to eat cake for the first time.

She really couldn't wait.

---

VENETO DISTRICT, VENICE IN ITALY, CASTELLO TERRAZZA ESTATE. THE VELVEX VIPER'S DOMAIN, APHRODITE'S LAIR...12:00 PM

The air trembled with bass-heavy, sensual music. Aphrodite's Lair pulsed like a living being, soaked in sweat, perfume, and reckless desire. The girls were partying like the world was ending at midnight.

The excuse? Their Madam, the infamous Shante, had just passed through the valley of the shadow of death and returned with her middle finger raised high.

But Shante knew better.

It was never about her resurrection. These girls had been looking for a reason to throw a chaotic party for weeks. Her near-death just happened to be the perfect excuse.

So she let them.

Despite being the supposed guest of honor, Shante sat secluded in a shadowy corner, sipped from her glass of wine, and enjoyed the anonymity. She didn't need to be in the spotlight. Not today. Let them scream, laugh, fuck, and forget. She'd almost died. They could have their damn party.

But if she was being honest,truly honest,she wasn't ready to leave.

Not even close.

She leaned back into the leather cushions and started scanning the room. Her eyes landed on Julian first...lap dancing a guy.

Wait.

She squinted.

Not lap dancing.

Fucking.

Julian was riding him like a rodeo queen on cocaine.

Shante smacked her forehead. "Oh, Gawd…"

Next, she found Mae. Also being pounded by some half-naked, over-muscled stripper. Her face was squished into the couch, while the guy drilled into her from behind like a construction site.

Their eyes met. Mae winked, her face flushed crimson. Shante rolled her eyes, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like a curse.

At least Gaby had some class.

Or so she thought.

There was Gaby,walking elegantly across the room, hips swaying, face poised. Maybe she was going to the DJ booth. Or maybe just passing by. A breath of relief escaped Shante's lips.

Nope.

Gaby reached a guy lounging lazily in nothing but a tight speedo, shoved him back onto the couch, and tore the damn thing off. His cock sprung free like a jack-in-the-box.

Shante was screaming internally now.

No. No. No, no, no...don't do it, Gaby, c'mon...

But the prayers didn't reach heaven in time.

Gaby dropped to her knees and took his dick into her mouth like it was a popsicle in July. Shante groaned in agony, rubbing her temples.

"This is not what I resurrected for…"

Everywhere she looked, girls were riding the strippers like their lives depended on it. A few still danced, but the majority had dropped all pretenses. The lair had turned into an orgy pit and Shante, watching it all unfold, couldn't decide whether to laugh or weep.

Her girls.

Her hopeless, dick-drunk girls.

She took another sip of her wine and tilted her head back, closing her eyes for just a moment.

Her girls are so hopeless.

C'mon…