Velvet nights

Lena didn't cry when she closed the door behind her. She didn't need to. The silence said it all. No yelling, no begging. Just the quiet click of a lock as she stepped out of five years of dull routines and colder sex.

Michael hadn't even looked up from his laptop when she said, "I'm done."

She had stood there for a full minute, waiting for something. A reaction. A question. Anything. But he just nodded and mumbled something about forwarding the rent split. The man she had once imagined building a life with couldn't be bothered to ask why she was leaving.

It stung. Not because she missed him, but because she had stayed that long. Lena carried her suitcase down the stairs like she was hauling out the dead weight of her past self. By the time she hit the sidewalk, the air tasted fresher - sharp, like gin and freedom.

Her phone buzzed as she waited for the Uber.

Sophia:

About time. Come to the penthouse. Bring nothing but your appetite.

Lena smirked. That was Sophia - blunt, wild, irresistible. The one person who had always seen through Lena's polished calm. And now, apparently, she had a plan.

The penthouse smelled like candle wax and heat. Dark wood, low lighting, and the echo of something sultry playing over hidden speakers. Lena stepped inside, heels clicking on marble, and was swallowed by the ambiance - velvet, shadows, and temptation.

Sophia appeared like a vision in silk. Bare feet. A red robe barely tied. Hair wet from a recent bath.

"Lena," she purred, arms wide. "You look like sin waiting to happen."

"And you look like you already did," Lena shot back, falling into the embrace.

Sophia kissed her cheek - too close to the mouth to be platonic, too casual to be scandalous.

"How long are you staying?" Sophia asked, already pouring something dark and expensive into two glasses.

"I don't know."

"Perfect. Then don't plan a damn thing."

They sank into the couch, Lena drinking fast, the whiskey burning just enough to feel alive. Sophia watched her with that knowing smirk - the one that had gotten them both into trouble more than once. There was always a hum of electricity between them, just below the skin, never quite spoken aloud. Until tonight.

Sophia reached out and brushed a strand of hair behind Lena's ear.

"You know," she said, voice low, "I invited someone tonight."

Lena raised an eyebrow.

"Two someones, actually."

⸻

They arrived like a slow storm. First Fredrick - tall, dark suit, darker eyes. He didn't smile much, but when he looked at Lena, it was like he was already undressing her in his mind. Confident. Calm. Dangerous.

Then came Alfred - lean, intense, a little brooding. He had that quiet type of hunger in him, like he'd devour you one inch at a time if you let him. No show, no swagger. Just tension wrapped in a clean white shirt and quiet breath.

Sophia introduced them like she was casting a spell.

"Fredrick. Alfred. This is Lena."

No one shook hands. No one needed to. The air was already thick.

The conversation drifted - art, sex, politics, music. Lena kept up easily, letting the whiskey loosen her tongue. Fredrick watched her with slow interest, like a hunter in no rush. Alfred barely said a word, but when she laughed, he smiled like it caught him off guard.

At some point, Sophia moved behind Lena and started playing with her hair, fingers gentle, mouth close to her ear.

"They want you," she whispered.

Lena's breath hitched.

"I can see it. You feel it, don't you?"

Fredrick was watching. So was Alfred.

Lena didn't move away.

"Why me?" she asked, voice rough.

Sophia grinned. "Because you left the cage."

⸻

The first kiss wasn't from Sophia. It wasn't from Fredrick either. It was Alfred.

Soft. Surprising. His lips were firm but careful, testing her. She kissed back, slow and open-mouthed. And when she pulled away, she saw Fredrick watching with a heat that made her shiver.

Sophia whispered, "Let go."

Fredrick stepped forward, fingers tracing her jaw. "You don't have to choose," he said.

Lena's heart was thudding now. Fast. Hot.

Sophia moved in front of her, slipping the robe off her shoulders. Lena didn't stop her. Didn't speak. Just felt the silk fall and the air kiss her bare skin.

Three pairs of eyes on her. None of them judging. Just hungry. Wanting.

She stood there - bare, exposed, alive.

She had no idea what came next. But for the first time in years, she didn't feel alone.