# Chapter 1 — Properly Lizzie’s was never quiet. It only changed what kind of noise it preferred. Early afternoon gave the club a strange half-awake quality: music still pulsed through the floor, but lower than it would be after dark; lights painted violet and pink across chrome that had not yet been polished for the evening; staff moved with the efficient lack of urgency belonging to people who knew exactly how much worse the place would become in a few hours. Ace liked it better this way. Less crowd. Fewer people trying to be interesting. She walked beside Mai through the main room in her usual black, jacket loose around her shoulders, hands free, eyes moving automatically over doors, stairs, corners, bodies. Mai noticed. Of course she did. “You know we are here for a conversation.” “I know.” “You have checked the same exit twice.” “It may have changed.” Mai gave her a look. Ace looked back. “It’s Night City.” “That is not a defense for everything.” “It’s a very versatile defense.” A Mox near the bar recognized Ace, lifted two fingers in greeting, then did a tiny double take at Mai. Not because Mai was unknown. Because both of them arriving together, without Amber, Maeve, Jessie, Ms. B, a client, a corpse, or visible evidence of imminent structural disaster, was apparently unusual enough to warrant suspicion. Ace noticed that too. “See?” Mai sighed. “You are impossible.” “Reliable.” “Those are not synonyms.” “Close enough.” They found Suzy Q in one of the quieter side sections, seated at a table with a drink she had barely touched and a datapad turned face-down beside her. She looked up as they approached. Then at Ace. Then Mai. Then behind them. “No fire?” Ace pulled out a chair. “Not yet.” “No kidnapped girls?” “No.” “No corpo shit?” Mai sat opposite her. “Not today.” Suzy leaned back slowly. “That somehow worries me more.” Ace dropped into the remaining chair, small enough that the table looked fractionally too high until she settled one arm across it with enough ownership to correct the problem. “We have a proposition.” Suzy closed her eyes. “Of course you fucking do.” Mai’s mouth twitched. “It is considerably less dramatic than that sounds.” “That sentence has never helped anybody in Night City.” Ace pointed at her. “See? She gets it.” Suzy ignored her and looked at Mai instead. “Go on.” Mai folded her hands lightly on the table. “Mandi is going back to Jig-Jig.” That got a reaction. Not alarm. Recognition. Suzy’s eyes moved immediately to Ace. Ace smiled. “Miss me?” “Like a persistent rash.” “Aw.” “Mandi made people stupid.” “They were stupid before I got there.” “You made them spend more money while stupid.” Ace considered. “Okay, fair.” Suzy looked back to Mai. “And?” Mai paused. Not uncertainty. Choosing the cleanest wording. “I’m going with her.” Suzy stared at her. A beat passed. Then another. Ace started smiling before Suzy even spoke. “You.” “Yes.” “As what?” “A joytoy.” Suzy’s eyebrows went up. Ace’s grin became openly predatory. Mai remained perfectly calm. Suzy looked between them twice, perhaps checking whether she had somehow misunderstood the conversational geometry. “You’re serious.” “Completely.” “You want to work Jig-Jig.” “Yes.” “With her.” “Yes.” Ace lifted one hand. “I feel like I’m being unfairly excluded from this interrogation.” “You’ve already done this.” “Exactly. Experienced professional.” Suzy pointed at her without looking away from Mai. “You shut the fuck up for thirty seconds.” Ace looked delighted. Mai almost smiled. Suzy leaned forward. “Start over. Slowly.” Mai did. “We built a cover.” “Of course you did.” “Her name is Dalia.” Suzy’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Cover as in fake paperwork and a hair color, or cover as in the kind of shit you people do where I can stare at someone for ten minutes and still not know who I’m looking at?” “The second.” “Thought so.” “Face mesh. Contacts. Hair. Clothing. Voice biosculpt.” That last one made Suzy glance at Ace again. Ace tapped two fingers lightly against her own throat. “Same family as Mandi’s.” Suzy looked back to Mai. “And this Dalia…” “Is mine,” Mai said. Ace tilted her head toward her. A tiny movement. Suzy caught it. “So not some made-up personality you hide behind.” “No.” Mai’s answer came immediately. “She is a cover. I remain responsible for everything I do while using her.” Suzy nodded once. That mattered. The humor stayed in the room, but the question underneath it had been answered. “So why?” Mai took a moment. Ace did not interrupt. That mattered too. “I want to know what happens if I stop making analysis the first step of every enjoyable decision.” Suzy blinked. Ace rested her chin on one hand. “That’s the clinical version.” Mai glanced sideways. “You insisted I explain it.” “I’m helping.” “You are not.” Suzy pointed between them. “Clinical version heard. Now give me the version that doesn’t sound like you’re submitting a research proposal.” Mai looked at her. Then, with the same calm tone she might have used to discuss a weapons contract: “I want to be more colorful, openly horny, and occasionally say yes before I have modeled the decision from six directions.” Suzy stared. Ace made a tiny triumphant gesture. “There she is.” Mai turned her head. “I hate you.” “No you don’t.” “No.” Suzy laughed once, sharply, then leaned back again. “Okay. That I understand.” Mai relaxed by a fraction. Suzy looked between them. “So this isn’t a job.” “No,” Mai said. “No client.” “No.” “No O’Sullivan SAS bullshit hiding under the table.” “None.” “No corpo infiltration where three days from now you tell me the rich asshole you were fucking was actually laundering black-site money through orbital freight.” Ace frowned thoughtfully. “That’s a pretty good plot.” “Ace.” “Fine.” Mai shook her head. “This is ours.” The words changed the room more than anything else had. Suzy studied her for a second. Then nodded. “All right.” Ace blinked. “That easy?” “No.” “Ah.” Suzy picked up her drink, took one small sip, set it back down. “Now we get to the part where I remind both of you that Jig-Jig isn’t a theme park.” “We know.” “I know you know. I’m still saying it.” Mai nodded. Suzy continued. “You work our side of the street, Mox eyes stay on you. Somebody gets pushy, somebody decides your posted boundaries are suggestions, somebody starts acting like paying means ownership, you flag it.” Ace’s expression flattened slightly. The joking edge disappeared. “Obviously.” “Good. Because Mandi’s price attracts exactly the kind of asshole who occasionally thinks money means reality should rearrange itself around him.” Mai’s gaze sharpened. “And Dalia’s will likely do the same.” Suzy looked at her. “You already set one?” “Yes.” Ace’s mouth twitched. Suzy caught that too. “How bad?” Mai gave her a perfectly innocent expression. Suzy stared. “Never mind. I don’t want to know yet.” “You really do,” Ace said. “I really fucking don’t.” Mai’s composure finally cracked enough for a quiet laugh. Suzy waited for it to settle. “Lisa will keep an eye on you.” Ace’s entire face changed. “No.” Suzy smiled. “Yes.” “I don’t need a babysitter.” “Didn’t say babysitter.” “You said Lisa.” “Exactly.” Mai looked from one to the other. “I take it this has historical context.” Suzy laughed. Ace pointed accusingly. “Don’t encourage her.” “Lisa remembers Mandi.” “That is not evidence.” “She remembers you trying to convince her that coffee counts as hydration.” “It contains water.” Mai covered her face with one hand. Suzy’s smile widened. “Oh, this is going to be fun.” “For you.” “For everybody except you, apparently.” Ace crossed her arms. “I hydrate.” Mai lowered her hand. “When instructed.” “Traitor.” “Historian.” Suzy nodded toward Mai. “And because she knows you, she’ll make sure Dalia doesn’t learn your bad habits.” Mai’s eyebrows rose. Ace turned to her immediately. “Do not side with them.” “I haven’t said anything.” “You’re thinking approvingly.” “That is not a prosecutable offense.” “Yet.” Suzy tapped one finger against the table. “After every booking: water. Food when you need it. Sit down for a few minutes. Check yourselves before the next one.” Ace opened her mouth. Suzy raised one finger. “No.” “I didn’t say anything.” “You were about to.” “I could’ve been agreeing.” “You weren’t.” Ace considered lying. Mai looked at her. Ace abandoned the attempt. “Fine.” “Especially if somebody books both of you.” That sentence landed differently. Ace’s eyes flicked to Mai. Mai’s did the same. Suzy noticed. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Ace looked innocent. “What?” “You’ve already thought about it.” Mai remained composed. “It is an obvious possibility.” “Uh-huh.” Ace grinned. “Premium product.” “You haven’t even put Dalia on the street yet.” “And?” Suzy stared at Ace for a long moment. Then shook her head. “I remember why Mandi was exhausting.” “You loved me.” “I tolerated your revenue.” “Same thing.” “No.” Mai leaned back slightly, more relaxed now than when they had entered. Suzy watched that too. Her next question came quieter. “You sure?” Mai knew exactly what she meant. Not the cover. Not the logistics. Not whether she understood the mechanics of sex work. This. “Yes.” No pause. Suzy looked at Ace. “And you?” Ace shrugged lightly. “Mai wants to try something.” “That’s not what I asked.” Ace’s expression shifted. Not defensive. More precise. “I want her to get to.” Suzy held her gaze for another second. Then nodded. “All right.” The decision settled. Not ceremonial. No contracts slid across the table. No dramatic declaration. Just three women agreeing on what the boundaries of tomorrow would be. Suzy picked up her drink again. “When?” “Tomorrow afternoon,” Mai said. “Mandi and Dalia come through here first.” “That was the plan.” “You let the girls meet Dalia before you go working.” Mai nodded. Ace smiled slightly. Suzy saw that smile and immediately looked suspicious. “What?” “Nothing.” “That is never nothing.” “I’m just looking forward to introductions.” Mai’s eyes narrowed. “Ace.” “Mandi.” Mai gave her a warning look. Ace’s grin broadened. Suzy sighed. “I’m going to regret letting either of you inside.” “Probably,” Ace said. Suzy ignored her. “One more thing.” Mai waited. Suzy’s expression became practical again. “You’re using Mox eyes. Mox space. Lisa’s going to end up making sure you two remember you’re biological organisms instead of fucking machinery. I’m not charging you some special protection fee because that turns this into something I don’t want it to be.” “Agreed,” Mai said. Ace nodded. “But,” Suzy continued, “if you pull in Mandi-level money, don’t get cute and pretend you don’t know who helped make the environment safe enough for you to do it.” Mai looked at Ace. Ace looked back. The exchange took less than a second. Decision made. Ace turned toward Suzy. “We’ll compensate the Mox.” Suzy waved one hand. “I said I’m not charging you.” “We heard you.” Mai’s voice was calm. “We will compensate the Mox.” Suzy studied her. “How much?” Ace’s smile returned. “Properly.” Suzy frowned. “That is not a number.” “Nope.” “Ace.” Mai, completely straight-faced, added: “Properly.” Suzy looked between them. The two of them were already united in whatever stupid definition of the word they had silently invented. That worried her. “Why do I feel like I should stop you right now?” Ace stood. “Instinct?” “Experience.” Mai rose beside her. Suzy pointed at both of them. “Tomorrow. Afternoon. Here first.” “Yes,” Mai said. “And you follow Lisa’s rules.” Ace made a face. Suzy sharpened her stare. Ace sighed. “Yes.” “Say it like you mean it.” “I will hydrate like a responsible luxury sexual professional.” Mai closed her eyes. Suzy stared at Ace. Then laughed despite herself. “Get the fuck out of my club.” Ace turned toward the exit. “See you tomorrow.” Mai followed, but Suzy called after her before she had taken more than two steps. “Mai.” She stopped and looked back. Suzy’s expression had softened just enough to matter. “Have fun.” Mai went still for a fraction of a second. Not because the concept surprised her. Because Suzy had reduced the entire complicated experiment to the one instruction Mai was least accustomed to treating as sufficient. Then her mouth curved. Small. Real. “That’s the plan.” Ace, already several steps ahead, looked back over her shoulder. The expression on her face said she had absolutely heard the double meaning. Mai saw it. “So help me.” Ace started walking faster. “You’ll have to catch me.” Mai followed. Behind them, Suzy watched the pair disappear through Lizzie’s afternoon lights. Then she looked down at the untouched datapad. At her drink. Back toward the doorway. “Properly,” she muttered. She had the distinct feeling that word was going to become expensive. --- # Chapter 2 — Dalia The first problem was the hair. Not technically. Technically, the hair was excellent. That was the problem. Ace stood behind Mai in the Safehouse bathroom doorway with both arms folded, staring at the reflection in the mirror with the concentrated disbelief of someone witnessing a crime against restraint. Mai sat in front of the mirror. Her hair was neon pink. The pigment was ChromeLock: stubborn enough to survive the entire shift exactly as applied, removable only after the matching releaser and the next normal wash. The dreadlocks themselves were styling, not shape-memory tech. Not pink in the socially acceptable sense. Not rose. Not magenta. Not fashionable coral with an expensive marketing name. Neon. The kind of pink that looked capable of attracting aircraft. And now that the last sections had been finished into loose, deliberate dreadlocks, the entire silhouette had changed with almost offensive efficiency. Ace stared. Mai stared back through the mirror. “Well?” Ace took another three seconds. “Jesus Christ.” “That is not useful feedback.” “It’s extremely useful.” “How?” “I’m informing you that subtlety died.” Mai looked at the mirror again. “That was intentional.” “I know. I’m grieving.” A small smile threatened. Ace stepped closer. The dreadlocks were not excessively long. Enough to change Mai’s outline completely, enough to move when she turned her head, enough that nobody looking across a club or a street would see Maeve O’Sullivan’s copper-red elegance or Mai’s usual controlled silhouette and make any useful connection. They were expensive-looking in exactly the wrong way. Not salon perfection. Designed imperfection. Intentional enough that the chaos itself had clearly cost money. Ace reached out and lightly caught one between two fingers. “Okay.” Mai glanced toward her. “Okay?” “This works.” “You sounded disappointed.” “I’m disappointed that you look this good while committing visual assault.” “That is more useful.” “I try.” Ace let the lock fall. Mai’s natural face was still underneath it all. For another few minutes. The face-mesh waited on the counter in its inactive state, almost disappointingly unimpressive: thin, flexible, skin-toned material nested in a sterile tray beside the applicator. Mai looked at it. Then at herself. Ace caught the shift. Not fear. Assessment. “You good?” “Yes.” “That was fast.” “I have already considered the implications.” Ace smiled faintly. “Of course you have.” Mai gave her the look. Ace raised both hands. “No analysis jokes. Yet.” “That ‘yet’ is carrying too much weight.” “Probably.” Mai reached for the mesh. The application process was almost boring. That was one of the more unsettling things about good cover technology. No dramatic machine. No restraints. No spray of sparks. Just careful placement, activation at the temples and jaw, and a slow conforming response as the material warmed against skin and began adapting. Ace watched from beside the mirror. The changes arrived gradually enough that they were almost difficult to notice until they were suddenly impossible to ignore. Jawline first. Softer in one direction, sharper in another. Then the cheeks. The nose. Small changes around the eyes. Nothing grotesque. Nothing uncanny. No artificial stiffness. The mesh followed expression as naturally as skin because, functionally, that was what it had been designed to do. Mai frowned experimentally. The woman in the mirror frowned back. She smiled. Same. Raised one eyebrow. Perfect. Ace leaned closer. “Say something.” “It doesn’t affect my voice.” “I know.” “Then why?” “I want to hear whether the face makes you sound different.” Mai turned her head. “That is not how acoustics work.” “Humor me.” Mai looked directly at her. “No.” Ace smiled. “There she is.” But there wasn’t. Not exactly. That was becoming increasingly obvious. The face looking back at Ace no longer belonged to Mai in any useful public sense. It retained enough of her underlying proportions to move naturally, but the identifying geometry had gone. Maeve was gone too. Someone scanning memory for either face would find nothing to catch. Ace’s smile faded into something more focused. “That’s good.” Mai watched her. “You can’t see me.” “I can.” “You know what I mean.” Ace did. She stepped closer until Mai could see her clearly in the mirror beside Dalia’s new face. “I see you.” Mai’s shoulders relaxed by a fraction. That was all. Then Ace pointed toward the contact case. “Now make it worse.” Mai sighed. The green contacts went in next. At first they simply looked green. Deep, vivid, expensive green. The color was already enough to change the face again. Then Mai turned slightly toward the overhead light. Ace stopped. The reflection hit. For half a second, the green flashed brighter. Not neon. Not luminescent. Reflective. A sharp emerald return that hit Ace directly in memory. Her katanas. Mai saw the recognition. “You noticed.” “You absolute bitch.” A smile. “There it is.” “You made your eyes match my swords.” “Approximately.” “Approximately my ass.” Mai adjusted her angle again. Emerald caught the light and snapped back. Ace stared. “That is obnoxiously hot.” Mai looked at her through Dalia’s face. “Thank you.” “No, you’re supposed to pretend that wasn’t the goal.” “It was the goal.” Ace blinked. Then pointed. “Dalia’s already happening.” Mai’s mouth curved. “Perhaps.” The voice biosculpt came next. That one was less comfortable. Not painful. Just strange. Mai sat on the edge of the bed while Ace prepared the two-point cartridge. Same basic architecture as Mandi’s. Personal calibration. Temporary. Self-resolving over the next few days. No releaser required. Ace turned the cartridge once in her fingers, checking the indicators. Mai watched her. “You look too pleased.” “I’ve been waiting for this part.” “That is concerning.” “You’ve heard Mandi.” “Yes.” “Now I get revenge.” “For what?” Ace considered. “General reasons.” Mai rolled her eyes. “Professional.” “Always.” Ace moved closer. “Chin up.” Mai did. First point. Then second. A brief pressure. A strange swallowed reflex. Mai closed her eyes for a moment. Ace waited. Nothing dramatic happened. Then Mai breathed in. Tested the sensation. Swallowed once. “Say something.” Mai opened her eyes. “You are enjoying this entirely too much.” Ace froze. The words were Mai’s. The rhythm was Mai’s. The precision was Mai’s. The voice was not. Lower. Not artificially deep. Textured. Warm and rough at the edges, like a voice that had spent years arguing over whiskey in rooms filled with smoke. Ace’s expression changed immediately. Mai saw it. “Interesting.” The new voice made even that single word sound indecent. Ace slowly sat down beside her. “Oh, fuck you.” Mai blinked. Then Dalia’s new mouth smiled. “That good?” Ace looked offended. “That is unfair.” “You have Mandi.” “That’s different.” “How?” “Mandi sounds expensive.” Mai tilted her head. “And?” Ace stared at her. “You sound like a bad decision.” A pause. Then that rough voice: “Excellent.” Ace put one hand over her face. Mai laughed. And that was different too. The laugh came out warmer, roughened around the edges, immediately changing how the whole room felt. Ace looked through her fingers. “Oh no.” “What?” “You like the voice.” Mai’s expression went perfectly neutral. “I am assessing it.” “Bullshit.” “I am.” “You just laughed to hear yourself.” Mai looked away. Ace’s grin became lethal. “Oh my god.” “Stop.” “You like it.” “Ace.” “You really like it.” Mai stood. That did not help. The clothing waited in the other room. Ace followed. Of course she did. The outfit had been selected with the sort of deliberate contradiction Mai appreciated more than she had admitted during planning. At first glance, it covered considerably more than most of Mandi’s wardrobe. Longer lines. More material. Less immediately exposed skin. At second glance, modesty collapsed completely. Every line followed Mai’s body. The fabric sat close enough that there was no ambiguity about shape. The front closure ran in one clean, obvious line. Secondary fastenings looked decorative until examined closely. Then it became clear that almost the entire outfit had been engineered around one basic principle: It could disappear quickly. Ace stood against the wall while Mai dressed. Not helping. Watching. Very obviously watching. Mai noticed halfway through fastening the main closure. “You know staring is rude.” Ace did not move. “You’re a joytoy.” “So?” “I’m conducting market research.” “That explanation is getting worse.” “Is it?” “Yes.” “Still staring.” Mai looked at her through emerald-green eyes. The light caught again. Ace visibly forgot whatever she had been about to say. Mai smiled. Then came the boots. Thigh-high. Expensive. Sleek. Not delicate. Built to look dramatic without becoming impractical. Mai pulled the first one on and secured it. Then the second. She stood. The heels changed her posture slightly. Not enough to make her someone else. Enough to alter the line. Enough that the entire visual presentation snapped into place. Ace went quiet. Mai looked down at herself. Then toward the mirror across the room. Neon-pink dreadlocks. Different face. Green eyes that flashed emerald when she moved. Black fitted premium fabric. Thigh-high boots. Nothing about the woman in the mirror said Maeve. Almost nothing said Mai. Then Mai reached toward the small packet on the table. Ace frowned. “What’s that?” Mai opened it. Removed a lollipop. Unwrapped it. Put it in her mouth. Ace stared. Mint hit the air almost immediately. “Menthol?” Mai nodded. Ace waited. Mai did not elaborate. “Why menthol?” The lollipop shifted to one corner of her mouth. Dalia’s rough voice answered: “Covers the cigarette smell.” Ace stared. One second. Two. Three. “You don’t smoke.” Dalia shrugged. “Exactly.” Ace’s mouth opened. Nothing came out. Mai turned toward the mirror again. Ace finally found language. “That doesn’t make any sense.” “It doesn’t need to.” “You invented a fake smoking habit just so the fake smoker can hide the fake smell with real menthol.” Dalia looked at her reflection. “Yes.” Ace started laughing. Not politely. Not quietly. She bent forward with one hand against the table. Mai stood there with the menthol lollipop between her lips, waiting for the episode to pass. It took a while. “This,” Ace managed finally, “might be the stupidest detail you’ve ever designed.” Dalia removed the lollipop. “You’re jealous because Mandi doesn’t have one.” “I absolutely am not.” “Would you like one?” “No.” “I can get you strawberry.” “Fuck off.” The rough voice made Mai’s next laugh even worse. Ace pointed at her. “You’re enjoying this too much already.” Mai put the lollipop back. “Maybe.” The word landed differently. Ace noticed. No correction. No qualification. No analysis attached afterward. Just maybe. Mai turned fully toward the mirror. The room quieted. For a few seconds, there were no jokes. No comments. No production logic. No comparison list. Mai simply looked. Ace stayed behind her. Close enough to appear in the reflection. Far enough not to interfere. The woman in the mirror looked expensive. That part had worked. More importantly, she looked aware of it. Not arrogant. Not decorative. Not posing as someone waiting to be judged. She looked like someone who had already seen the price and agreed with it. The menthol stick rested in one corner of her mouth. The reflective contacts caught another shard of light. Emerald. Ace’s emerald. Mai moved her head slightly. The dreadlocks shifted across one shoulder. Dalia moved with them. There. Not the face. Not the hair. Not the voice. Something smaller. A little less restraint in the posture. A little more visible amusement. Mai tested a smile. Dalia’s smile came easier. Ace saw that too. “You found her.” Mai looked at Ace through the mirror. “Did I?” “You tell me.” Mai was quiet. Not analyzing. Just feeling the shape of the question. Then she reached up, took the menthol lollipop from her mouth, and turned around. Ace expected an answer. Instead Mai stepped closer. Close enough that Ace had to tilt her head up despite the boots only changing the difference slightly. The rough voice dropped softer. “You’ve been staring at me for twenty minutes.” Ace smiled. “Occupational hazard.” “Mm.” “That sounded threatening.” “It wasn’t.” “Disappointing.” Mai looked at her. The look was familiar. The delivery wasn’t. Neither was the speed of what happened next. Mai caught the front of Ace’s jacket and pulled her in. Not hard. No warning either. The kiss was immediate, warm, deliberate. Ace made a surprised sound against her mouth. Mai smiled into it. That made Ace laugh. The kiss broke. Ace looked up at her. “Okay.” Mai still had hold of the jacket. “Okay?” “That was Dalia.” Mai’s eyebrows rose. “You are assigning behavior very quickly.” “You didn’t think about that.” “I thought about it.” “Before?” A pause. Dalia’s smile came back. “No.” Ace’s grin widened. “There she is.” Mai released her jacket. Ace did not step away. For another moment they simply stood there. Then Ace glanced toward the menthol lollipop still in Mai’s fingers. “You dropped your cigarette defense system.” Mai looked at it. Put it back in her mouth. “Better?” “Much.” The Safehouse door opened somewhere beyond the hall. A voice called from the main room. “Ace?” Brenda. Another voice, Iris this time: “Why does it smell like someone weaponized mouthwash?” Ace closed her eyes. Mai looked toward the doorway. Then back to Ace. Ace pointed at her. “Your problem.” Mai’s eyes flashed emerald. The rough voice carried easily toward the hall. “It covers the cigarette smell.” Silence. Then Brenda: “Who the fuck was that?” Ace collapsed laughing again. Mai stood in the middle of the room, neon-pink dreadlocks over one shoulder, thigh-high boots planted comfortably apart, menthol lollipop between her lips. And smiled. Not Mai’s restrained little almost-smile. Not Maeve’s polished social warmth. Something brighter. More shameless. More amused by the effect she had just caused. From the hall came fast footsteps. Mai looked toward the door. Ace saw the spark. The immediate enjoyment. No hesitation. No recalculation. No attempt to reduce the moment back into logistics. Tomorrow afternoon suddenly felt very close. Dalia was ready. --- Ace was still laughing when the footsteps reached the doorway. Brenda appeared first. Iris was directly behind her. Brenda stopped. Completely. Her eyes went from Ace— to the woman standing beside her— to the neon-pink dreadlocks— down over the fitted black outfit— to the thigh-high boots— then back up to the unfamiliar face. Green eyes caught the light. Emerald flashed. Brenda stared. Dalia calmly sucked on the menthol lollipop. Iris stopped behind her. Unlike Brenda, she did not say anything immediately. Which was arguably worse. Her gaze moved over Dalia once. Slowly. Face. Hair. Eyes. Clothing. Posture. Then to Ace, who had finally managed to get herself under control enough to breathe. Brenda pointed. “Who.” Ace made a helpless gesture toward Dalia. Dalia removed the lollipop. “Dalia.” Brenda’s face changed again when the rough voice arrived. “WHAT.” Ace folded in half. Iris’s eyebrows rose. That was all. But Ace saw it. Dalia saw it too. Brenda took one step into the room. “No. Wait. Hold on.” She pointed again. “That was Mai?” Dalia considered the question. Then looked down at herself. “Mostly.” Ace made a choking sound. Brenda swung toward her. “You knew she could do that?” “I helped.” “That is not an answer.” “It’s technically an answer.” Iris stepped around Brenda. Her attention remained on Dalia. “Face mesh?” Dalia nodded. “Dermal-conforming.” “Voice biosculpt.” “Yes.” “Contacts.” “Yes.” Iris’s gaze reached the dreadlocks. A pause. “Hair.” Dalia put the lollipop back into her mouth. Brenda stared at Iris. “Excellent analysis.” “I was inventorying.” “Inventorying what?” Iris looked at Dalia again. “The damage.” Ace laughed. Dalia’s mouth curved around the lollipop. Brenda pointed at the hair. “That is offensively pink.” “Thank you.” “That was not a compliment.” “It sounded like one.” Brenda looked at Ace. Ace lifted both hands. “She’s been like this since the voice.” Dalia turned her head. “I was like this before the voice.” “Evidence disputed.” Brenda’s eyes narrowed. Then something clicked. She looked at Ace. Then Dalia. Then Ace again. “Oh.” Ace immediately became suspicious. “What?” Brenda’s grin appeared. Slowly. Dangerously. “Ohhh.” Iris glanced at her. “You’ve understood something.” “Yep.” Ace pointed. “No.” “I haven’t said anything.” “You’re about to.” Brenda looked at Dalia. “So this is the one going to Jig-Jig with Mandi.” Silence. Not much. Just enough. Dalia removed the lollipop. “Yes.” Brenda’s grin became unbearable. “Oh, this is going to be a fucking disaster.” Ace looked offended. “Why does everybody keep saying that?” “Pattern recognition.” Iris nodded. “Strong evidence.” “Et tu.” Brenda walked farther into the room, circling Dalia once with absolutely no attempt to disguise the inspection. Dalia stayed still. Not posing. Not uncomfortable. Simply allowing it. Brenda stopped in front of her. “Turn.” Dalia raised one eyebrow. Brenda made a little rotating gesture with one finger. “Come on. I need the full engineering failure.” Dalia looked at Ace. Ace immediately nodded. “Do it.” “You are both extremely strange.” “Correct.” Dalia turned. Slowly. The dreadlocks moved across her shoulders. The fitted outfit held its clean line from every angle. More coverage than Mandi usually preferred, but none of it concealed what the clothing had been designed around. The closure system was visible without becoming crude. The boots carried the silhouette all the way down with expensive, deliberate aggression. Dalia faced them again. Brenda stared. Then looked at Iris. “Okay.” Iris waited. Brenda gestured helplessly. “I understand capitalism now.” Ace almost fell against the wall. Iris covered her mouth. Not fast enough. The laugh escaped anyway. Dalia looked entirely too satisfied. Brenda pointed at the outfit. “That thing comes off in, what, ten seconds?” Dalia’s green eyes flashed. “Less.” Ace made a small appreciative noise. Brenda looked scandalized. “You timed it?” Dalia did not answer. That was an answer. Iris looked at Ace. “You helped with that too?” Ace straightened. “I support rigorous testing.” “You are both impossible.” “Thank you.” Brenda stepped closer to Dalia and leaned slightly toward her. The menthol scent reached her. She frowned. “What the hell is that?” Dalia removed the lollipop. “Menthol.” “I can smell that.” “It covers the cigarette smell.” Brenda nodded automatically. Then froze. Her eyes shifted toward Ace. Ace was already grinning. Brenda looked back at Dalia. “You don’t smoke.” “No.” A long silence. Brenda visibly tried to process this. Failed. “Then what fucking cigarette smell?” Dalia put the lollipop back into her mouth. “Exactly.” Brenda stared. Iris closed her eyes. Ace lost it again. Brenda threw both hands into the air. “That doesn’t mean anything!” Dalia shrugged. “It doesn’t need to.” “YOU INVENTED A PROBLEM TO JUSTIFY THE CANDY.” Dalia thought about it. “Yes.” Brenda turned toward Iris. “Why am I the only person upset by this?” “You’re not upset.” “I’m deeply upset.” “You’re delighted.” Brenda considered that. “Both can be true.” Dalia’s rough laugh rolled through the room. Brenda’s attention snapped back immediately. “Oh, that voice is bullshit.” Ace pointed enthusiastically. “THANK YOU.” Dalia looked between them. “What is wrong with it?” “Nothing,” Brenda said. “That’s the problem.” Iris stepped closer now. Not circling. Just looking. “You kept Mai’s cadence.” “Yes.” “But changed the texture.” “Yes.” Iris nodded slowly. “Good choice.” Dalia’s eyebrow lifted. “You approve?” “I understand why Ace hasn’t stopped staring.” Ace looked betrayed. “Iris.” Brenda whipped toward her. “You’ve been staring?” “No.” Dalia, immediately: “Twenty-three minutes.” Ace’s head snapped toward her. “You timed me?” Dalia sucked once on the lollipop. “No.” Brenda made a noise somewhere between a scream and a laugh. Iris simply shook her head. Ace stared at Mai. Mai— Dalia— looked back. And then Ace saw it again. The lack of retreat. Mai would normally have corrected the number, clarified the joke, or at least allowed herself that tiny analytical pause before committing to the bit. Dalia did not. She liked the effect. So she let the effect live. Brenda noticed something too. Not the same thing. But enough. Her grin softened slightly. “You really like this.” The room changed. Only a little. Ace stopped laughing. Iris’s attention sharpened. Dalia did not answer immediately. For once, the pause was not calculation. She looked down at herself again. Pink hair. Black fabric. Boots. The menthol lollipop between two fingers. Then at her reflection in the mirror. Then at the three people behind her. “Yes.” Simple. No defense. No qualification. Brenda smiled. Not the destructive grin from before. Something warmer. “Good.” Mai looked at her. Brenda shrugged. “You look like you’re having fun.” “I am.” Ace leaned one shoulder against the wall. There it was again. No _I think_. No _so far_. No _the cover appears effective_. Just: I am. Iris caught Ace watching. Said nothing. She did not need to. Brenda, unfortunately, had no such instinct. “So what’s the actual plan tomorrow?” Dalia returned the lollipop to her mouth. “Lizzie’s first.” “Moxes meet Dalia.” “Yes.” “Then Jig-Jig.” “Yes.” Brenda looked at Ace. “Mandi too?” Ace’s smile came back immediately. “Oh yes.” Brenda inhaled. Slowly. Her gaze moved from Ace to Dalia. Then back. “Together.” “Yes.” Brenda looked at Iris. Iris looked back. There was a whole conversation in that glance. Dalia saw it. “So?” Brenda pointed toward her. “You two are going to cause an economic incident.” Ace straightened proudly. “Finally, somebody understands.” “That wasn’t praise.” “Still taking it.” Iris sighed. “How expensive?” Ace and Dalia exchanged a look. Brenda caught it. “Oh no.” Dalia’s rough voice remained perfectly calm. “Enough.” “That is not a number.” “No.” “Why is nobody giving me numbers today?” Ace smiled. “Because watching you suffer is free.” Brenda threw a cushion at her. Ace ducked. The cushion hit the wall. Dalia caught it on the rebound with one hand. Looked at it. Looked at Brenda. Then calmly placed it on the bed. Brenda stared. “Okay, that was annoyingly cool.” “Thank you.” Ace walked over to Dalia and leaned against her side without asking. Completely ordinary. Completely Ace. Dalia glanced down at her. The difference between their covers and the people underneath them blurred for half a second. Ace reached up and stole the menthol lollipop from Dalia’s mouth. Mai stared. Ace tasted it. Immediately grimaced. “Jesus.” Dalia held out her hand. “You stole it.” “It tastes like refrigerated violence.” “Give it back.” Ace did. Mai put it straight back into her mouth. Brenda made a face. “You two are disgusting.” Iris looked at her. “You live here.” “That doesn’t mean I approve.” Ace settled closer against Mai. “You approve constantly.” “I tolerate aggressively.” “Same thing.” “No.” Dalia’s arm came naturally around Ace. Not calculated. Not positioned for anyone. Just there. Brenda noticed. Iris noticed. Ace definitely noticed. Nobody commented. The room settled. For a few minutes, Dalia stopped being something under construction. Brenda started talking about something entirely unrelated involving a storage drawer she claimed Mai had unfairly classified as “structurally hostile.” Iris corrected three details. Ace stole another taste of the menthol lollipop and regretted it again. Mai laughed in the wrong voice. Life continued around the cover. That mattered. Dalia was not standing in front of a mirror anymore. She was standing inside the Safehouse. Inside conversation. Inside teasing. Inside ordinary space. And nobody was treating her like a stranger. Eventually Brenda stopped halfway through a sentence and looked at Mai again. “What?” Mai asked. Brenda shook her head. “Nothing.” “That was clearly something.” “You just…” She gestured vaguely at Dalia. “…really don’t look like you.” Mai smiled around the lollipop. “That is generally the idea.” “No, I know. It’s just weird.” Iris looked at Mai too. “But we know it’s you.” Mai’s expression softened. “Yes.” Ace tightened her arm around Mai’s waist. “Unfortunately.” Mai looked down. “Would you like to sleep somewhere else tonight?” Ace immediately became serious. “No.” Brenda laughed. Iris shook her head. And just like that, the question disappeared. Tomorrow would be different. Tomorrow strangers would see Dalia first. Tomorrow the rough voice, neon hair, green eyes, expensive silhouette and ridiculous menthol habit would walk into Lizzie’s without Mai standing visibly behind them. Tomorrow Mandi would be beside her. Tomorrow people would pay. Tomorrow Dalia would have to discover what remained when preparation ended and choice began. But not yet. For tonight, she was allowed to stand in her own home wearing somebody else’s face while everyone she loved made fun of her candy. Mai found that unexpectedly comforting. The menthol lollipop shifted to the other side of her mouth. Brenda pointed at it. “I still hate that.” Dalia smiled. “Good.” And Ace started laughing all over again. --- The next afternoon, Lizzie’s would meet Dalia. --- # Chapter 3 — Mandi’s Back Lizzie’s noticed Mandi before the door had finished closing. The first reaction came from the woman nearest the entrance. She looked up. Stopped. Looked again. Then grinned. “Oh, fuck me.” Mandi spread her arms. “Later. Maybe.” That got the attention of everyone within hearing distance. A second Mox turned from the bar. Then a third. Recognition moved across the room in small bursts. “Mandi?” “No fucking way.” “She’s back.” Mandi walked farther inside with the easy confidence of someone returning somewhere she knew she was welcome. Short. Bright. Expensive. Dangerously pleased with herself. “Miss me?” A woman behind the bar pointed at her. “Absolutely not.” “That sounded emotional.” “It was.” “See? Missed me.” Laughter followed her across the room. Dalia walked beside her. And, gradually, the laughter changed. Not stopped. Redirected. Mandi was familiar. Dalia was not. Neon-pink dreadlocks shifted over one shoulder as she walked. The black outfit was less revealing than Mandi’s, at least in the purely mathematical sense, but there was nothing modest about the way it followed her body. Every fastening looked intentional. Every line looked expensive. The thigh-high boots gave the whole silhouette a little more weight. Then there were the eyes. Green at first glance. Until one of the club lights caught them. Emerald flashed back. A Mox near the bar visibly lost her place in whatever she had been saying. Dalia noticed. She did not react. Menthol lollipop between her lips. Expression calm. Almost lazy. Mai’s composure was still there. But it had been rearranged around someone who clearly enjoyed being looked at. Someone finally said what the room was collectively thinking. “Okay.” A finger pointed past Mandi. “Who the fuck is that?” Mandi turned her head. Looked at Dalia. Dalia looked back. Mandi’s smile became obscene. “Oh, her?” Several women groaned immediately. “Don’t.” “Mandi.” “Just answer the question.” Mandi reached over, slid one arm around Dalia’s waist and pulled her close enough that the relationship required no explanation before she gave one anyway. “She’s my personal joytoy.” The room detonated. Someone slapped the bar. Another Mox put both hands over her face. One voice from farther back called: “You cannot introduce people like that!” Mandi looked genuinely confused. “Why not?” Dalia calmly removed the lollipop. Her new voice reached the room for the first time. Low. Warm. Roughened around the edges. “Every night.” Heads turned again. Dalia waited one perfect beat. “Sometimes during the day, too.” The bartender dropped her forehead against the counter. Mandi stared up at Dalia with open admiration. “Oh, I love you.” Dalia put the lollipop back in her mouth. “I know.” Someone near them wheezed: “Jesus fucking Christ.” Another pointed at Mandi. “You made her.” Mandi looked offended. “I absolutely did not.” Dalia nodded. “She didn’t.” “See?” Mandi’s smile went filthy. “I’d tell you what she does to me after midnight, but Suzy would start charging admission.” The reaction had barely started when Dalia took the menthol lollipop from her mouth. Mandi saw the movement. Too late. Dalia caught her by the jacket, pulled her up against her, and answered in front of every Mox watching with a long, unapologetic tongue kiss. The bar erupted. Someone actually slapped the counter hard enough to rattle glass. Mandi kissed her back with absolutely no interest in preserving dignity. When Dalia finally let her go, Mandi stayed close for half a beat, visibly reconsidering whether she had won anything. Dalia put the lollipop back between her lips. “Keep advertising.” Mandi blinked. Then grinned. “Oh, this is going to be a problem.” Dalia’s eyebrow rose. “For you.” That got the Moxes again. Mandi pointed at her. Dalia smiled around the lollipop. “You’re less disciplined than you look.” Mandi’s head snapped around. The nearest Mox made a delighted noise. “Ohhh.” Mandi narrowed her eyes. “Excuse me?” Dalia’s lollipop shifted slowly from one side of her mouth to the other. “You heard me.” Mandi stared. Dalia stared back. The room collectively realized there was a fight coming and became very interested. Mandi pointed at her. “I spent all morning making sure you were ready.” “You spent all morning staring at me.” Several Moxes made exactly the noise Ace had known they would. Mandi’s eyes widened. “That is privileged information.” “Twenty-three minutes.” The room broke. Mandi looked appalled. “You are not bringing that number here.” Dalia shrugged. “You brought me here.” “That is not the same thing.” “Close enough.” Mandi opened her mouth. Paused. The first sign that she had finally encountered a problem she could not solve by talking faster. Dalia watched the exact moment she realized it. Then smiled. Mandi pointed again. “That.” Dalia’s eyebrow rose. “That smile.” “What about it?” “You’re enjoying this.” “Yes.” Immediate. No hesitation. No cover-performance exaggeration. Just yes. Mandi went quiet for half a second. The answer hit somewhere underneath the banter. Then she smiled too. “Good.” Suzy Q arrived before the moment could become anything more private. She stopped several meters away. Looked at Mandi. Then Dalia. Then the crowd already accumulating around them. Her expression became one of profound disappointment with the universe. “You’ve been here three minutes.” Mandi checked an imaginary watch. “Four.” “Worse.” Dalia removed the lollipop. “Hello, Suzy.” Suzy’s attention shifted fully to her. She had seen pieces of the cover described yesterday. Seeing the finished result was different. Face first. Nothing useful of Mai. The mesh moved naturally, warm under the club lighting, expression completely alive. Hair. Impossible to miss. Eyes. Emerald return when the angle changed. Then the voice. Suzy’s eyebrows went up. “That’s the biosculpt?” “Yes.” “Jesus.” Mandi brightened. “That was my reaction.” “No, yours was probably filthier.” Mandi thought about it. “Fair.” Suzy stepped closer. Dalia waited. No nervous adjustment. No little unconscious retreat into Mai. That was the first thing Suzy seemed to register. The second was the lollipop. She pointed at it. “Menthol?” Dalia nodded. “Covers the cigarette smell.” Mandi turned away immediately because she was already starting to laugh. Suzy frowned. “You smoke?” “No.” Suzy stared. Dalia calmly put the lollipop back into her mouth. A full three seconds passed. “That makes no fucking sense.” Dalia shrugged. “It doesn’t need to.” Mandi lost the battle and started laughing openly. One of the nearby Moxes looked at Suzy. “We asked too.” “And?” “Same answer.” Suzy pinched the bridge of her nose. “You invented a smoking problem so you could invent a solution.” Dalia considered it. “Yes.” “That’s stupid.” “Yes.” Suzy looked at Mandi. Mandi leaned against the bar, delighted. “I know.” “And you let her keep it.” “I encouraged it.” “Of course you did.” Dalia’s rough laugh joined Mandi’s. Suzy heard it. Looked back at her. And smiled despite herself. “Okay.” Mandi straightened. “Okay?” “That works.” Dalia’s expression sharpened slightly. Not pride exactly. Something quieter. Suzy continued. “If I didn’t know yesterday who was coming through that door, I would not have pulled anyone out of that.” Mandi glanced up at Dalia. Dalia looked at Suzy. “Good.” “And the voice is nasty.” Mandi pointed. “THANK YOU.” Dalia looked at her. “You’re still staring.” “I’m appreciating.” “Professionally?” “Extremely.” Suzy cut in before the conversation could escape again. “Right. Before you two turn my floor into amateur theater.” “Too late,” someone said. Suzy ignored her. She looked toward the room. “Everybody. This is Dalia.” Several voices answered at once. “Hi, Dalia.” “Nice boots.” “Love the hair.” “Your girlfriend is annoying.” Dalia nodded toward that last one. “I know.” Mandi gasped. “Betrayal.” “You’ll survive.” “Emotionally?” “No promises.” The Moxes laughed again. And just like that, the inspection stopped. Not completely. People were still looking. Of course they were. But Dalia was no longer an unknown object standing beside Mandi. She had a name. A voice. A joke everyone already understood. A ridiculous menthol habit. That was enough to begin. Suzy gestured toward the bar. “You’re not leaving yet.” Mandi looked toward the exit. “We weren’t.” “Good.” Dalia glanced at her. Mandi noticed. “What?” “Nothing.” “That was something.” Dalia took the lollipop out. “You were already looking toward Jig-Jig.” “I was orienting.” “You were impatient.” “Operationally ready.” “Impatient.” Mandi narrowed her eyes. Dalia smiled. Suzy looked between them. “Oh, this is so much worse than yesterday.” “Better,” Mandi corrected. “Worse.” “Subjective.” Suzy pointed toward an open section of the bar. “Sit.” Mandi stopped. Looked at the stool. Then at Suzy. “We just got here.” “Yes.” “We haven’t done anything.” “Yes.” “So why are you already telling me to sit?” Suzy smiled. “Practice.” Several Moxes laughed. Mandi looked wounded. Dalia sat down immediately. Not because she had been told. Because she apparently saw no reason not to. One boot crossed over the other. Menthol lollipop back in place. Completely at ease. Mandi stared at her. “You’re siding with them already.” Dalia looked up. “There are chairs.” “That’s not the point.” “What is the point?” Mandi opened her mouth. Closed it. A Mox beside them said: “She’s got you there.” Mandi climbed onto the stool beside Dalia with the dignity of someone accepting temporary defeat. Suzy leaned against the bar. “Lisa’s coming in before you head out.” Mandi groaned. Dalia looked interested. “So this is Lisa.” Mandi turned. “You’ve met her.” “Briefly.” “You say that like you’re curious.” “I am.” “That’s concerning.” Dalia’s green eyes flashed. “You’re afraid of her.” “I am not afraid of Lisa.” A voice behind Mandi said: “Good.” Mandi froze. The Moxes nearest them immediately started smiling. Dalia looked over Mandi’s shoulder. Lisa had arrived. Mandi turned slowly. Lisa looked exactly as unimpressed as Ace remembered. Her gaze moved over Mandi. Then Dalia. Then back to Mandi. “Mandi.” “Lisa.” “You eating today?” Mandi’s expression became offended. “It’s two in the afternoon.” “That wasn’t an answer.” “Yes.” “What?” “Food.” Lisa stared. Dalia sucked quietly on the menthol lollipop. Mandi looked toward her. “No.” Dalia raised one eyebrow. “Do not enjoy this.” “I’m not.” “You are.” Lisa looked at Dalia. “You eat?” Dalia removed the lollipop. “Yes.” “Water?” “Yes.” “Good.” Mandi pointed at her. “See? Responsible.” Lisa ignored her. “After every booking, both of you come back through.” Mandi sighed. Dalia nodded. “Water.” “Yes.” “Food if you need it.” “Yes.” “You feel off, you say so.” “Yes.” “You finish early, you don’t immediately fill the gap because you’re bored.” Dalia’s eyes shifted toward Mandi. Mandi saw it. “Oh, fuck off.” Lisa’s expression did not change. “That was specifically for you.” “I know.” “And if she starts copying you—” Dalia calmly interrupted. “I won’t.” Several Moxes laughed. Mandi looked personally wounded. “You haven’t even worked one customer.” “I already know you.” That landed harder than it had any right to. Mandi stared. Dalia put the lollipop back into her mouth. Lisa nodded once. “I like her.” “Of course you do.” “I’m serious.” “So am I.” Lisa turned to Dalia. “If Mandi tells you coffee counts as water, she’s lying.” “It contains water.” Lisa looked at her. Mandi immediately stopped. Dalia turned slowly toward Mandi. The room waited. Mandi realized her mistake. Dalia’s mouth curved around the lollipop. “That sounds familiar.” Mandi pointed at Lisa. “This is character assassination.” Lisa reached behind the bar. Pulled out a bottle of water. Placed it in front of Mandi. Then one in front of Dalia. Mandi stared at hers. “We haven’t even started.” “Practice.” Suzy started laughing. Dalia picked up her bottle. Opened it. Drank. Then looked at Mandi. Mandi stared back. Dalia said nothing. She did not need to. Mandi opened hers. “Tyranny.” Lisa walked away. “Hydration.” Mandi drank. Dalia watched. “Good girl.” Mandi nearly inhaled water. The entire section of the bar erupted. Suzy turned away, shoulders shaking. Mandi coughed once. Set the bottle down. Very slowly looked at Dalia. Dalia calmly sucked on the menthol lollipop. Mandi’s voice dropped. “You are going to regret that.” Dalia’s eyes flashed emerald. Her answer came immediately. “Sounds fun.” That silenced Mandi for exactly one beat. Then she grinned. There. Suzy saw it. So did Lisa from farther down the bar. Not Mai thinking through six possible implications. Not Mai deciding whether the response was strategically appropriate. Dalia had heard a challenge. Found it interesting. And said yes. The afternoon stretched ahead of them. There was no hurry. That was deliberate. They stayed. Talked. Let the Moxes ask questions. Let Dalia answer instead of allowing Mandi to define her. Someone wanted to know how expensive the boots were. Dalia answered. One woman wanted to know whether the voice hurt. No. Another asked whether the lollipop was always menthol. “Yes.” “Why?” “Cigarette smell.” “You don’t smoke.” “No.” The woman stared. Then nodded slowly. “Okay. I respect the commitment.” Dalia pointed the lollipop at her. “Thank you.” Mandi looked betrayed. “Do not validate this.” Too late. By the time the club had filled another degree toward evening, nobody was treating Dalia like a visitor anymore. She had found a place at the bar. She had laughed. She had insulted Mandi. Been insulted back. Answered questions. Learned names. Accepted a second bottle of water without needing to be told. Mandi had been told. Twice. That was also becoming part of the social structure. Eventually Suzy checked the time. Then looked at them. “All right.” Mandi was off the stool before the sentence finished. Suzy pointed. “See?” “I knew what you were going to say.” “You were waiting for permission to move.” “Correct.” Dalia stood more slowly. Adjusted nothing. Checked nothing. Just rose. Ready. Mandi looked up at her. For the first time since they arrived, neither of them made a joke. Suzy noticed the change. “So.” Mandi exhaled. Bright smile returning. “So.” Suzy looked at Dalia. “Still want to do this?” Dalia’s answer came through smoke-and-whiskey roughness. “Yes.” Immediate. No performance. Suzy nodded. “To Jig-Jig, then.” Mandi reached for Dalia’s hand. Dalia took it. They started toward the door. Behind them Lisa called: “Mandi.” Mandi stopped. Closed her eyes. “Yes?” “Water after every booking.” “Yes, Lisa.” “And food.” “Yes, Lisa.” “And Dalia?” Dalia looked back. “If she tries to skip it?” Dalia glanced down at Mandi. The menthol lollipop shifted. “I’ll make her.” The room erupted one last time. Mandi stared up at her. “You have been a joytoy for zero minutes.” Dalia smiled. “Fast learner.” Then she pulled Mandi toward the door. This time Mandi followed. Together they stepped out into the afternoon glare of Night City. Lizzie’s had met Dalia. Now Jig-Jig would. --- # Chapter 4 — First Shift Jig-Jig Street did not care that Dalia was new. That helped. Lizzie’s had looked. Jig-Jig evaluated. Different thing. The late afternoon crowd moved constantly outside the club: workers coming off shift, corpos slumming discreetly, tourists pretending they were not tourists, locals pretending they did not notice the tourists, vendors, braindance hawkers, club runners, mercs, couples, joytoys, and people who had not yet decided which category they belonged to. Mandi and Dalia took up position just outside Lizzie’s. Close enough that the Moxes could see them. Close enough that Lisa could reach them without effort. Far enough into the street that they were unmistakably working. Mandi changed almost immediately. Not into another person. Into someone more visible. Her posture loosened. Her smile brightened. Every glance she returned carried just enough invitation to be understood without promising anything she had not agreed to. Dalia watched for perhaps thirty seconds. Mandi noticed. “You’re analyzing.” Dalia shifted the menthol lollipop to the other side of her mouth. “I’m observing.” “That’s how it starts.” “I’m learning the traffic.” “Better.” Mandi looked up at her. “But don’t copy me.” Dalia raised one eyebrow. “No?” “You’re not Mandi.” A beat. Mandi’s grin returned. “You’re taller.” Dalia stared. “That is your professional insight?” “Yes.” “Remarkable.” “I have others.” “I’m sure.” A man slowed in front of them. His eyes went first to Mandi. Then Dalia. Then back. “How much?” Mandi smiled. “Twenty-five thousand. One hour.” His eyebrows rose. He looked at Dalia. “Same?” Dalia removed the lollipop. “Twenty-five thousand. One hour.” He laughed once. “You two think pretty highly of yourselves.” Mandi smiled sweetly. “We do.” Dalia returned the lollipop to her mouth. The man looked between them. “Forty for both.” Mandi’s smile did not move. “No.” “Come on. Fifty separately, forty together. Easy money.” Dalia put the lollipop back into her mouth. “You can’t afford one.” His expression tightened. “I just offered forty.” Mandi leaned lightly against Dalia’s side. “And now you can’t afford the conversation.” The nearest Mox laughed loud enough for him to hear. He looked from Mandi to Dalia, found exactly zero room to push, and walked away. Dalia watched him disappear into the crowd. “He wasn’t buying.” “No.” “He wanted to know whether the number moved.” “Yes.” “It didn’t.” Mandi’s smile widened. “You’re a natural.” “That required almost no skill.” “Correct. People still fuck it up constantly.” A woman in a charcoal corpo suit had stopped several meters away. Older than either of them. High-end chrome. No visible corporate insignia. Her attention was entirely on Dalia. Dalia noticed. Mandi noticed Dalia noticing. Neither said anything. The woman approached. “You’re new.” Dalia removed the lollipop. “Yes.” “Name?” “Dalia.” The woman looked her over once. Not rudely. Professionally. “What do I get for an hour?” Dalia’s tone stayed calm. “My company. My attention. What we agree to.” The woman smiled. “And sex?” “If we both want what you’re asking for.” “I do.” “So do I.” No hesitation. The woman nodded. “Twenty-five?” “Twenty-five thousand.” She made the transfer. Dalia’s agent chimed. **25,000 €$ — RECEIVED.** Dalia checked the confirmation. Then looked at Mandi. Not for permission. Just because Mandi was there. Mandi lifted two fingers. See you after. Dalia’s mouth curved around the lollipop. She removed it, wrapped it, slipped it into a small case. Then went with the woman. Not into Lizzie’s. Not into some imaginary private room belonging to Dalia. The woman had booked a nearby short-stay suite two blocks down, one of dozens operating openly around Jig-Jig for exactly this reason. Neutral ground. Clean. Private. Paid separately by the client. Mox-monitored route in and out. Dalia checked the address as they walked. Everything matched. Good. The woman opened the door. Dalia entered after her. And for the first time that day, there was no Mandi beside her. No Ace watching. No Mox audience. No one to perform Dalia for except the woman who had just paid twenty-five thousand eddies to spend an hour with her. That changed something. The woman took off her jacket. Dalia did the same. Slowly. Not teasing yet. Just allowing the transition to become real. The woman looked at her. “Still okay?” Dalia smiled. “Yes.” “Good.” She stepped closer. The first kiss was exploratory. The second was not. Dalia let herself lean into it. Hands found shoulders. Waists. The edge of clothing. Nothing rushed simply because money had already changed hands. That mattered. The woman pulled back far enough to look at her. “Bed?” Dalia glanced toward it. Then back. “Yes.” No analysis spiral. No need for one. They crossed the room together. Dalia sat first. The woman followed. Another kiss. Longer. Closer. Dalia let herself fall back into the bedding with the woman above her, one hand still at the other woman’s waist, their breathing already changing. There was a brief pause before they went further. A look. A question without words. Dalia nodded. The woman smiled. Then they continued. The rest unfolded without hurry. The woman’s hands found the front closure. Dalia had designed it to vanish quickly. It did. Less than ten seconds, as promised, and then there was warm skin against the black fabric that remained, then not even that. Boots stayed on. Dalia noticed that and did not care. The woman kissed down her throat, paused at the mesh-smooth unfamiliar face, then kept going as if the cover were simply another expensive fact of the hour. Dalia guided her onto her back. Chose. The woman followed her lead. That surprised Dalia slightly. She liked that too. She slid down, put her mouth between the woman’s thighs, and stopped thinking about whether this counted as research. Wet. Heat. A hand in pink dreadlocks that did not pull until Dalia made a sound that meant it could. The woman said her name. Dalia answered with hers, rough against skin. Then Dalia climbed back up, settled astride her thigh, and took the woman’s fingers inside herself because that was the position she wanted and nobody here needed her to justify it. The hardest part was not the sex. It was resisting the habit of observing herself having it. The thought appeared. She discarded it. She rode those fingers until her breath broke and her thighs shook and the emerald contacts flashed when her head tipped back. The woman came a minute later with Dalia’s mouth on her again, quieter, gripping Dalia’s wrist like the number on the terminal had suddenly become personal. Then they gradually relaxed again. Afterward they remained close for a while. No immediate separation. No sudden return to transaction. The woman rested against her. Dalia closed her eyes. Listened to both of them breathe. And smiled. Not because she was supposed to. Because she had enjoyed herself. Eventually the woman laughed quietly. “That was worth twenty-five.” Dalia opened her eyes. “Good.” “You always this calm?” “Yes.” A beat. “Mostly.” The woman laughed again. They dressed. No rush. No awkwardness. When Dalia checked the time, only thirty-two minutes had passed. The woman noticed. “I’m done.” “You paid for an hour.” “I know.” Dalia looked at her. “You sure?” “Very.” She leaned in and kissed Dalia once more. “Same place next week?” Dalia smiled. “Maybe.” “Fair.” They left separately. The woman went toward the main street. Dalia went directly back toward Lizzie’s. The moment she came into view, Lisa saw her. Of course she did. Dalia had barely reached the door when Lisa held out a bottle of water. “Drink.” Dalia took it. “You really do wait for us.” “Yes.” Dalia opened the bottle. Drank. Lisa looked her over. “You okay?” “Yes.” “Anything hurting?” “No.” “Need food?” Dalia checked herself before answering. Not automatically. “A little.” “Good.” Lisa handed her something small and high-calorie from a tray waiting inside the entrance. Dalia took it. Then looked out toward the street. “Mandi?” “Still out.” Dalia checked the time. Twenty-eight minutes remained in her paid slot. Lisa noticed. “You’re not going back out.” “I know.” “Just making sure.” Dalia sat near the entrance where she could still see Jig-Jig through the open frontage. Water. Food. Menthol lollipop back in place. No urgency. No problem. The booking had ended early. The slot had not. So Dalia waited. And discovered, to her mild surprise, that she was perfectly capable of doing absolutely nothing. --- Mandi’s first client had come less than a minute after Dalia left. A young man with immaculate hair and the confidence of someone who had apparently never been required to earn it. “Hey, gorgeous.” Mandi smiled. “Expensive opening.” He blinked. “What?” “You started with gorgeous. Now you have to maintain the standard.” He laughed. “How expensive?” “Twenty-five thousand. One hour.” “Seriously?” “Completely.” He looked her over. “Any discount if I don’t need the whole hour?” “No.” Bright smile. “You’re buying the slot. What you do with it is your problem.” He laughed. Then decided. “Fine.” Transfer. Mandi’s agent chimed. **25,000 €$ — RECEIVED.** She checked it. “Perfect.” He held out one hand. Mandi looked at it. Then at him. “You shake on sex?” His confidence finally cracked. “I—” “Oh, this is adorable.” He started laughing. Mandi took his hand anyway. “Come on.” His chosen short-stay room was in the opposite direction from Dalia’s. Also nearby. Also neutral. Also within the normal Mox working radius. Mandi checked the location. Checked him. No problem. Inside, the young man discovered almost immediately that paying twenty-five thousand eddies had not purchased control of the room. It had purchased Mandi’s consent to be there. Different thing. He understood quickly. That helped. The joking lasted through the first kiss. Then less. Then not at all. Mandi let him pull her close. Let his hands settle where she had already made clear they were welcome. Her jacket came away. Then more. The client’s earlier bravado softened as the reality of being with her replaced whatever fantasy he had arrived carrying. Mandi noticed. She liked that. When they moved to the bed, she stopped him for one brief moment. Not dramatically. Just a hand against his chest. Eye contact. “You good?” He nodded. “You?” Mandi smiled. “Oh, definitely.” That was enough. Her jacket was already gone. The rest followed without ceremony. Mandi sat to deal with the boots, then pulled him down with her, still grinning, still the one who had decided the room belonged to her for the hour. She wrapped a hand around him. He was hard. Less confident about it now that the joke had run out. “Still good?” “Yes.” She guided him in. Slow enough that he felt every inch of the fact that twenty-five thousand had not made her smaller or quieter or his. Mandi set the pace. He adapted. Good. She fucked him from below at first, then rolled him and sat down on him properly, neon-orange hair falling forward, black eyes watching his face while his earlier bravado disappeared into concentration. Mandi laughed once, breathlessly, when he realized she was enjoying that. “Don’t,” he managed. “I’m working.” “That’s worse.” She kissed him to shut him up and took him deeper. The room narrowed to wet sound, his hands on her hips, her voice going rough in a way the cover sculpt had not needed help with. She came first, tight around him, forehead against his, a bright broken sound she did not bother to brand. He followed not long after, swearing into her shoulder, all the expensive hair ruined. Then the slow return from it. Mandi stayed against him afterward for a little while. Not because she needed to. Because getting up immediately would have felt artificial. He lay there staring at the ceiling. “Fuck.” Mandi smiled against his shoulder. “That’s generally the service category.” He laughed. Then turned his head toward her. “You’re awful.” “Twenty-five thousand worth?” “Yes.” “Excellent.” He lasted forty-one minutes in total. Not bad. Still nineteen minutes unused. Mandi noticed that immediately. That was the difference. The moment she stepped back out onto Jig-Jig Street, the unused nineteen minutes became visible in her head like an unfinished task. She returned to Lizzie’s. Lisa was waiting. “Water.” Mandi stopped. “I’m fine.” “Water.” “I literally just—” Lisa extended the bottle farther. Mandi stared. Then took it. “This is harassment.” “Drink.” Mandi drank. Then she saw Dalia. Sitting. Calm. One boot crossed over the other. Half-finished water beside her. Food wrapper folded neatly. Menthol lollipop in her mouth. Doing nothing. Mandi stared. Dalia noticed. Her eyes flashed emerald when she turned her head. “How long?” Mandi asked. Dalia removed the lollipop. “Thirty-two minutes.” “You were done in thirty-two?” “Yes.” “And you’ve just been sitting here?” “Yes.” “Since then?” “Yes.” Mandi stared. “Doing what?” Dalia looked around. “Nothing.” Mandi’s expression changed. “Nothing?” “Nothing.” “You still had twenty-eight minutes.” “Yes.” “You could have—” Lisa cut in. “No.” Mandi turned. “I wasn’t going to say anything.” “You were.” “I could have been discussing scheduling.” “You were going to suggest finding another client.” Mandi folded her arms. “That would be efficient.” “You sold an hour.” “The client left.” “The slot didn’t.” Mandi opened her mouth. Lisa pointed toward the chairs. “Sit.” Mandi looked at the street. Then the chair. Then the street again. “How long?” “Until your next slot can start.” “I feel fine.” “That’s not the rule.” Mandi sighed dramatically and sat beside Dalia. Dalia put the lollipop back into her mouth. Mandi drank more water. Ten seconds passed. Twenty. Thirty. At forty-five, Mandi’s foot started moving. Dalia noticed. At sixty, Mandi looked outside. At seventy-five, she checked the time. Dalia waited. Another ten seconds. “Mandi.” “What?” “You know you’re allowed to sit down, right?” Mandi turned slowly. Dalia’s expression was perfectly calm. Lisa, several meters away, started laughing. Mandi pointed at Dalia. “You have had one customer.” “Yes.” “One.” “Yes.” “And already you’re unbearable.” Dalia shrugged. “Fast learner.” Mandi stared at her. Then smiled despite herself. “Bitch.” Dalia’s green eyes flashed. “Your personal one.” Mandi’s mouth opened. Nothing came out. Lisa made a sound of quiet triumph. Then Dalia’s next scheduled slot approached. A woman stopped just outside Lizzie’s entrance. Compact. Sharp jacket. Silver implant tracing one temple. Her attention settled on Dalia. “You working?” Dalia stood. “Yes.” “How much?” “Twenty-five thousand. One hour.” The woman nodded. Transfer. Dalia’s agent chimed. **25,000 €$ — RECEIVED.** Second Dalia transaction. Dalia checked it. “Come on.” Before leaving, she looked at Lisa. Lifted the empty water bottle slightly. Lisa nodded. Good. Dalia left with her client. Mandi watched. Then looked toward the street again. Her own next slot was still several minutes away. She stood. Lisa’s voice came immediately. “Sit.” Mandi stopped. Dalia heard it from halfway to the door. Turned. Looked back. The menthol lollipop shifted in her mouth. Mandi saw the smile. “Don’t.” Dalia’s rough voice carried across the entrance. “I didn’t say anything.” “You were going to.” “No.” “Bullshit.” Dalia laughed and disappeared into the street with her second client. Mandi sat again. Very reluctantly. A few minutes later, another woman approached her. Good boots. Leather jacket. Expensive chrome kept deliberately subtle. “You Mandi?” “Yes.” “One hour.” “Twenty-five thousand.” The woman transferred without bargaining. Mandi’s agent chimed. **25,000 €$ — RECEIVED.** Second Mandi transaction. Mandi checked it. Then stood. Lisa pointed at her. “Your slot starts now.” Mandi smiled brightly. “I know.” “You’ve been counting.” “I have no idea what you mean.” “You checked the time seven times.” “Professional awareness.” Lisa rolled her eyes. Mandi left with her client. And so the first rhythm of the evening established itself. Not customer after customer without pause. Not a conveyor belt. A slot. A booking. A visible transfer. Work. Return to Lizzie’s. Water. Food when needed. A check-in. Then the remainder of the paid hour, whether the client had used it or not. Only after that could the next slot begin. Dalia adapted to it almost immediately. Mandi did not. Which meant, naturally, that every unused minute became someone else’s entertainment. The night had barely begun. Already the numbers were clear. **Mandi — 25,000.** **Dalia — 25,000.** Then again. **Mandi — 25,000.** **Dalia — 25,000.** And between every one of those numbers: Lizzie’s. Lisa. Water. Food. A chair. And, increasingly, Mandi glaring at the clock. --- # Chapter 5 — Both? By early evening, Mandi had stopped pretending the clock was not personally insulting her. Dalia found this delightful. The second individual booking had ended almost exactly on time for her. Fifty-four minutes. Six minutes remaining. Water. Half a protein bar. A brief check from Lisa. Then back toward the entrance as soon as the hour actually turned. Simple. Reasonable. Mandi’s second booking had lasted thirty-seven minutes. Twenty-three minutes remained. Twenty-three minutes in which Mandi had: drunk her water, eaten what Lisa handed her, checked the street, checked the time, checked the street again, walked six steps toward the entrance, been told to sit, sat, stood again, been told to sit again, and finally accused Lisa of “weaponizing chronology.” Lisa had not been impressed. Dalia had nearly choked on her menthol lollipop. Now both of them were free. Actually free. No paid slots running. No client still technically holding their time. The distinction mattered. Mandi stepped outside Lizzie’s with the energy of someone released from unjust imprisonment. Dalia followed more slowly. “You survived.” “Barely.” “Twenty-three minutes.” “Don’t.” “You should be proud.” “I said don’t.” Dalia’s rough laugh followed her onto the street. Night had settled properly now. Jig-Jig looked brighter after dark, not because there was more light but because the city had stopped competing with it. Neon reflected in puddles and chrome. Steam drifted from food stalls. Music leaked out of doorways in overlapping layers. Mandi stretched her arms above her head. Dalia watched. Mandi caught her. “Staring.” “Professionally.” “That’s my line.” “I improved it.” “Impossible.” Dalia removed the menthol lollipop. “You’re very defensive for someone selling confidence at twenty-five thousand an hour.” Mandi turned slowly. “Oh, we’re doing this?” Dalia smiled. “Sounds fun.” There it was again. That immediate yes hidden inside something smaller. Mandi’s answering grin sharpened. Then someone interrupted them. “Excuse me.” Both turned. A man stood a few steps away. Older. Well-dressed without corpo insignia. Expensive shoes. Subtle implants. No visible entourage. He looked at Mandi first. Recognition. Then Dalia. Interest. “You’re Mandi.” “Yes.” “And Dalia.” Dalia removed the lollipop. “Yes.” The man looked between them. Not indecisive. Calculating. Mandi saw the thought forming. Dalia did too. Then he asked: “How much for both?” Silence. Not long. But real. Mandi looked at Dalia. Dalia looked back. There it was. The first question neither of them had actually been asked yet. Mandi’s expression shifted almost imperceptibly. Check. Not permission. Not command. A shared decision. Dalia felt the old Mai instinct begin building the structure. Time. Energy. Boundaries. One client. Two joytoys. Shared session. Mox coverage. Recovery afterward. Price— And before she had finished mentally arranging the whole thing, another thought arrived first. Oh. That sounds fun. Dalia smiled. Mandi saw it happen. Saw the answer in her face before she said anything. Mandi’s own smile widened. The man waited. Mandi looked up at him. “Seventy-five thousand.” His eyebrows rose. “For both?” Dalia put the lollipop back into her mouth. Mandi nodded. “One hour.” The man looked from one to the other. “Fifty separately.” “Yes.” “And seventy-five together.” “Yes.” “Why?” Mandi’s smile became offensively sweet. “Because you asked.” Dalia nearly laughed. The man did. Once. Sharp and surprised. Then: “Fair.” He opened the transfer interface. Mandi and Dalia both received the shared booking request. **75,000 €$ — PENDING.** Dalia looked at Mandi. Mandi looked at Dalia. Both accepted. The confirmation hit simultaneously. **75,000 €$ — RECEIVED.** First pair transaction. For half a second, all three of them looked at the number. Then Mandi lifted her gaze. “Now.” The man nodded. “I have a suite.” “Where?” He gave the address. Nearby. Known short-stay property. Inside the Mox working radius. Mandi checked the route. Dalia checked it independently. Same result. Good. They followed him. --- The suite was larger than the ones used for their individual bookings. Not luxurious. Just expensive enough that nobody had to pretend the furniture was temporary. The man closed the door. Then paused. Mandi noticed immediately. “Nervous?” “A little.” Dalia leaned against the wall, menthol lollipop still between her lips. “You asked for both of us.” “I know.” “That usually means you wanted both of us.” “I did.” Mandi smiled. “Excellent start.” The man laughed. Some of the tension left his shoulders. Dalia took the lollipop out. Set it aside. Then stepped closer. “What do you actually want?” He looked between them. Not at their bodies now. At their faces. “All three of us.” Mandi nodded. “Anything specific?” “No.” Dalia’s eyebrow rose. “That is rarely true.” He thought about it. Then smiled. “Fine. I want to know what the two of you are like together.” That changed the room. Mandi glanced at Dalia. Dalia felt something warm and immediate answer. Not surprise. Recognition. Because that was, in a strange way, exactly what the customer had paid for. Not Mandi. Not Dalia. The space between them. Mandi walked over first. Slid one arm around Dalia’s waist. Dalia looked down at her. The familiar height difference remained under the covers. Mandi’s blue eyes were bright. “You heard him.” Dalia smiled. “Yes.” Mandi kissed her. Not performatively. Not yet. Just familiar. Easy. Dalia answered naturally. Then Mandi pulled back and looked toward the man. “There.” He laughed softly. “That’s not what I meant.” “I know.” Dalia’s rough voice: “She likes being difficult.” “Occupational skill.” The man stepped closer. This time the transition happened without awkwardness. A hand offered. Accepted. Another kiss. Then another. The three of them found the rhythm slowly enough that nobody had to pretend they already knew it. Mandi moved easily between them. Dalia did not copy her. That mattered. She stayed calmer. More deliberate. Less physically restless. But the moment something pleased her, it showed immediately. A smile. A low laugh. The rough edge of her voice. The way she pulled someone closer instead of stopping to interpret why she wanted to. Clothing came away gradually. Not as a performance for the room. As part of what they had all chosen. Mandi’s faster. Dalia’s more structured until the quick-release construction proved its point and the whole thing became considerably less structured. The man noticed. “Jesus.” Dalia looked at him. “What?” “That outfit was lying.” Mandi laughed. “I told you.” “You told me nothing.” “I implied aggressively.” The tension broke again. Good. They continued. Touch became more intimate. Kisses longer. Breathing less even. At one point the man paused and looked at both of them. Still good? Mandi nodded. Dalia answered aloud. “Yes.” When they took him, it happened after the same kind of unmistakable shared decision. No one guessed. No one assumed. Mandi first. She pushed him onto his back and sank down on him while Dalia kissed her mouth, one hand on Mandi’s breast, staying inside the moment rather than becoming an observer standing outside it. Mandi’s breath broke against Dalia’s. The man swore. Dalia found herself laughing once when Mandi caught her expression. “What?” Mandi asked. “Nothing.” “Bullshit.” Dalia pulled her closer. “Busy.” Mandi’s grin was immediate. Better answer. Roles shifted because someone wanted something different, not because a clock demanded fairness. Dalia took him next, slower, menthol forgotten on the side table, whiskey voice going quieter as she adjusted to the stretch and then started to move. Mandi sat close enough to touch both of them — fingers on Dalia, mouth on the man’s throat, orange hair in the way. He watched them want each other. That was the difference. He had bought their time. He had not manufactured their chemistry. That was the difference. He had bought their time. He had not manufactured their chemistry. The chemistry was already theirs. And Dalia realized, somewhere in the middle of it, that she liked being seen that way. Not merely watched. Recognized. Mandi’s hand found hers. Dalia squeezed. No analysis. No need. Later, after the intensity finally broke and all three of them settled into the bedding, nobody moved immediately. Breathing. Warmth. Skin. Mandi lay partly against Dalia. The man on Dalia’s other side. For a while there was nothing transactional about the silence. Then the man laughed quietly. Mandi lifted her head. “What?” “Seventy-five.” Dalia opened her eyes. “What about it?” He looked between them. “You’re going to charge that every time someone asks for both, aren’t you?” Mandi smiled. “Yes.” Dalia added: “Probably.” Mandi looked up at her. “Probably?” Dalia turned her head. The whiskey-rough voice stayed lazy. “We could charge more.” The man started laughing. Mandi stared at Dalia. Then slowly grinned. “Oh, I really like you.” Dalia kissed her forehead. “I know.” --- They used fifty-two minutes. Not the full hour. Close enough that Mandi did not immediately develop a personal grievance against the remaining eight. The client dressed. Mandi and Dalia did the same. Before leaving, he looked at them again. “Worth it.” Mandi leaned against the doorframe. “You sound surprised.” “I’m not.” “Good answer.” Dalia retrieved the menthol lollipop. Unwrapped it. Put it back in her mouth. The man stared. “What?” “Menthol.” “I can see that.” “Covers the cigarette smell.” He looked at Mandi. Mandi immediately shook her head. “Don’t.” “She doesn’t smoke, does she?” “No.” The man stared at Dalia. Dalia shrugged. “It works.” He laughed all the way out. --- Lisa had two bottles ready before they reached Lizzie’s. Of course she did. Mandi took hers without argument. That was how Dalia knew the booking had actually taken something out of her. Dalia accepted the second. Drank. Lisa looked between them. “You good?” “Yes,” Mandi said. “Yes,” Dalia said. “Food.” Mandi opened her mouth. Lisa pointed. “Not a question.” Mandi closed it. Dalia smiled around the bottle. Lisa handed them both something small to eat. Then glanced at the time. “Eight minutes.” Mandi looked offended. “I know.” “You’re staying here.” “I know.” Lisa narrowed her eyes. Mandi sighed. “I know.” Dalia sat. Mandi sat beside her. For once, she did not immediately start bouncing one foot. She was too busy looking at Dalia. Dalia noticed. “What?” “Seventy-five.” Dalia nodded. “Yes.” “For one hour.” “Yes.” Mandi’s grin appeared. “That was easy.” Dalia considered. The number. The client. The session. Her own immediate reaction when he had asked for both. “Yes.” Mandi leaned closer. “You didn’t hesitate.” Dalia looked at her. “I checked.” “You decided before you finished checking.” A beat. Dalia knew exactly what she meant. “Yes.” “How’d that feel?” Dalia sucked slowly on the menthol lollipop. Then answered without searching for a smarter version. “Good.” Mandi smiled. Not teasing now. Just pleased. “Good.” Lisa passed behind them. “Six minutes.” Mandi looked toward the street. Dalia caught the movement. “Mandi.” “I’m sitting.” “You’re planning to stand.” “I’m allowed to plan.” Dalia’s rough voice became sweet. “Good girl.” Mandi closed her eyes. Lisa burst out laughing. “Fuck both of you.” Dalia removed the lollipop. “Seventy-five thousand.” Mandi turned so fast she nearly dropped her water. Dalia stared back. Perfectly calm. Then Mandi started laughing. Hard. Helplessly. Lisa stopped walking. Looked between them. “Oh no.” Dalia’s mouth curved. Mandi wiped one eye. “What?” Lisa pointed at them. “That.” “What?” “You’ve had one pair booking and you’re already doing sales pitches to each other.” Mandi looked at Dalia. Dalia looked at Mandi. Then both laughed again. Outside, Jig-Jig kept moving. Someone slowed near the entrance. Then another. One of them pointed subtly toward Mandi. The other toward Dalia. Word traveled fast. Not yet enough to become a line. Enough to become interest. Mandi noticed. Dalia noticed. Lisa noticed both of them noticing. “Four minutes.” Mandi groaned. Dalia settled deeper into the chair. Menthol cooling her tongue. Seventy-five thousand eddies sitting in their account. The first pair booking completed. And the night— finally— had learned something new. Mandi was expensive. Dalia was expensive. Together? More. --- # Chapter 6 — Word Gets Around Four minutes became zero. Mandi stood before Lisa could announce it. Lisa looked at her. Mandi pointed at the clock. “Legal.” “I wasn’t going to say anything.” “You were thinking it.” Dalia rose beside her, considerably less urgently. “You’re becoming paranoid.” “I’m being oppressed.” “You had water, food, and eight minutes in a chair.” “Exactly.” Dalia put the menthol lollipop back between her lips. “Brutal.” Mandi looked up at her. “I liked you better this morning.” “No, you didn’t.” Mandi paused. “Fair.” They stepped back outside. The difference was immediate. Not dramatic. Nobody had erected a sign. But the street had started talking. Mandi knew what that looked like. Glances that lasted a little longer. People looking at one of them, then deliberately checking the other. Someone whispering to a companion. A pair slowing down, deciding against approaching, then looking back. Dalia noticed too. “Seventy-five traveled.” “Fast.” “How fast?” Mandi smiled. “Jig-Jig fast.” “That is not a unit.” “It is here.” They had barely reached their usual position when a man approached Mandi alone. Late forties. Well dressed. Sober. Direct. “Mandi?” “Yes.” “Twenty-five?” Mandi smiled. “Twenty-five thousand. One hour.” Transfer. **25,000 €$ — RECEIVED.** She checked it. “Perfect.” Then looked at Dalia. Dalia raised two fingers. Mandi narrowed her eyes. “Don’t copy me.” Dalia’s rough voice stayed innocent. “I have no idea what you mean.” “Liar.” Mandi left with the client. Dalia remained outside Lizzie’s. For less than two minutes. A woman approached. Looked directly at her. “Dalia?” “Yes.” “Twenty-five thousand?” “One hour.” The transfer arrived. **25,000 €$ — RECEIVED.** Dalia checked it. “Come on.” Separate clients. Separate routes. Separate nearby short-stay suites. And for the first time, neither needed to look back. --- Dalia’s third solo booking was different from the first two. Not difficult. Different. Her client talked. A lot. Through the walk. Through the door. Through taking off her jacket. Through the first kiss. Dalia finally pulled back enough to look at her. “You nervous?” “No.” Dalia waited. The woman sighed. “Yes.” “First time?” “With a joytoy this expensive?” Dalia smiled. “That specific?” “It matters.” “Apparently.” The woman laughed. Good. Dalia let her breathe. No hurry. The hour had already been paid. Nothing was gained by racing toward the reason for it. They sat on the edge of the bed first. Talked. Kissed again. This time the woman did not immediately retreat into another sentence. Dalia touched her face. “Better?” “Yes.” “Good.” The progression became easier from there. Clothing opened gradually. Skin. Warmth. Hands learning what was welcome. The woman relaxed enough to begin asking for what she wanted rather than apologizing for wanting it. Dalia liked that change. When they moved farther onto the bed, Dalia let the woman choose how close she wanted them. Then closer. Another kiss. A pause. Eye contact. “Still yes?” “Yes.” Dalia smiled. “Then stop thinking so much.” The words left her mouth. She heard them. For one absurd fraction of a second, Mai almost laughed at herself. The woman did laugh. “You telling me that?” Dalia’s eyebrows rose. “You know me?” “No.” “Then yes.” That killed the question. Good. The woman chose the last movement rather than Dalia making it for her. She guided Dalia’s hand between her legs. Then, after a breath, Dalia’s mouth. The first minutes were tentative. Then easier. Dalia stayed close. Let her client find confidence instead of performing it for her. The talking thinned when Dalia licked her properly. Sentences came apart. A hand gripped pink hair. A kiss missed later because neither cared enough to correct it. “Still yes?” Dalia asked once, mouth wet, voice wrecked. “If you stop talking I will—” Dalia smiled. “Hypocrite.” She put two fingers in her and used her tongue until the woman stopped having opinions about price. The client came with a startled sound, thighs tight, finally silent. Then she wanted Dalia. Clumsy at first. Better when Dalia told her exactly where. Dalia came quieter, forehead against the woman’s shoulder, one boot still half-on because nobody had wanted to interrupt the part where the talking finally died. Then it broke. Afterward, the woman stayed wrapped around her. Dalia did not move away. Their breathing settled slowly. Eyes closed. A small laugh escaped somewhere against Dalia’s shoulder. “What?” “I finally stopped talking.” Dalia smiled. “I noticed.” “Was it annoying?” “Yes.” The woman lifted her head. Dalia kissed her before she could decide whether to be offended. When they separated, both were laughing. Fifty-eight minutes. Almost perfect. The client dressed. At the door she looked back. “Twenty-five thousand?” Dalia put the menthol lollipop back into her mouth. “Yes.” “Still ridiculous.” “Yes.” “Probably see you again.” Dalia smiled. “Then apparently not ridiculous enough.” The woman stared. Then laughed. “Fuck you.” Dalia shifted the lollipop. “That was the expensive part.” --- Mandi returned to Lizzie’s three minutes before Dalia. Her own booking had lasted forty-six minutes. Which meant fourteen minutes remained. Lisa was ready. Mandi accepted the water without argument this time. Lisa looked suspicious. “What?” “Nothing.” “You’re looking at me.” “You took the bottle without complaining.” “I can learn.” “No.” Mandi drank. Lisa handed her food. Mandi took that too. Lisa’s suspicion deepened. “You’re planning something.” “I’m eating.” Dalia walked through the entrance. Mandi immediately brightened. “There she is.” Lisa closed her eyes. “Ah.” Dalia accepted the waiting bottle. “What?” “She was saving the energy for you.” Mandi looked offended. “I was being responsible.” Dalia drank. “Terrifying.” “How long?” “Fifty-eight.” Mandi stared. “Two minutes?” “Yes.” Dalia sat beside her. Mandi looked at the clock. Then at Dalia. Then the clock. Dalia caught it. “No.” “I didn’t say anything.” “You have fourteen minutes.” “Thirteen now.” Dalia ate a few bites of what Lisa handed her. Mandi watched. Dalia looked sideways. “What?” “You really don’t mind.” “Waiting?” “Yes.” “No.” “How?” Dalia shrugged. “I sit.” “That cannot be the whole technique.” “It is.” Mandi looked disgusted. “I reject it.” Lisa passed them. “We know.” --- Their next individual slots followed almost immediately once both clocks cleared. Dalia’s fourth client was a man. Twenty-five thousand. **25,000 €$ — RECEIVED.** Mandi’s fourth was a woman. Twenty-five thousand. **25,000 €$ — RECEIVED.** Then the same rhythm. Separate rooms elsewhere in the district. Sex. Return. Lizzie’s. Water. Food. Recovery. Remaining slot time. Mandi fighting metaphysically with the concept of waiting. Dalia becoming increasingly entertained by her. By the time both were free again, the street had moved fully into night. And Mandi noticed the next customer first. Not because he approached. Because he did not. He stood farther down the street holding two leashes. Mandi went still. Dalia followed her gaze. “Oh.” The handler was human. The two figures beside him were much less straightforward. Both were male. Both heavily biosculpted. Large. Broad. Digitigrade alterations changed the geometry of their legs. Their faces had been reshaped into unmistakably lupine profiles without abandoning enough humanity to make communication difficult. Fur covered large portions of both bodies. Ears moved independently toward street noise. Predators. Not costumes. Not masks. Expensive, extensive biosculpt. One darker. One pale gray. Both watching Mandi and Dalia. The handler saw that they had been noticed. He approached. The leashes were not taut. That was the first thing Dalia registered. The second was that neither predator moved because he pulled them. They moved with him. Choice. Good. Mandi looked up at the nearer wolf. Then farther up. Then farther. “Okay.” Dalia’s lollipop shifted. “That sounded unusually thoughtful.” “I was recalculating scale.” The gray wolf made a low sound that was unmistakably laughter. Mandi looked delighted. “Oh, good. You have a sense of humor.” The handler stopped in front of them. “Mandi.” “Yes.” His eyes shifted to Dalia. “Dalia.” Dalia removed the lollipop. “Yes.” “I heard you work together.” Mandi smiled. “We do.” “Seventy-five thousand for both?” “One hour,” Dalia said. The handler nodded. Then glanced at the two predators. “For them.” Mandi looked at Dalia. Dalia looked at the wolves. This required more than the previous booking. Not because of the number. Four participants. Not three. And because extensive biosculpt made assumptions stupid. Dalia looked directly at the gray one. “You want this?” “Yes.” The voice was rough but perfectly clear. She looked at the darker wolf. “And you?” A visible smile reached the altered muzzle. “Very much.” Mandi folded her arms. “Good answer.” The handler looked between Mandi and Dalia. “Still seventy-five?” Dalia smiled. “Seventy-five thousand.” He initiated the transfer. Both agents chimed. **75,000 €$ — RECEIVED.** Mandi stared at the confirmation. Then up at the wolves. “Well.” The dark one tilted his head. “Well?” Mandi’s grin appeared. “This should be educational.” Dalia put the lollipop away. The gray wolf looked at it. “No menthol?” “Not during work.” “Shame.” Dalia’s rough voice dropped slightly. “You can survive an hour.” Mandi glanced at her. “Oh, she likes you.” Dalia looked down. “Mandi.” “What?” “That was almost subtle.” The handler laughed. Then gave them the address. Larger private suite. Close. Verified. Mandi and Dalia checked it. Then the handler handed the leashes to Mandi. She looked down at them. Then up. Her expression became priceless. “You’re not coming?” “No.” Mandi looked at the wolves. Both were visibly amused now. The handler said: “They booked you. I’m just paying.” Dalia’s eyebrows rose. Mandi looked at the two leashes in her hands. Then at Dalia. Dalia took one from her. “Problem?” Mandi’s smile returned. “Oh, absolutely not.” They started walking. The handler stayed behind. Mandi looked up at the dark wolf beside her. “You know, seventy-five thousand usually gets us a customer who can fit through a door without ducking.” He laughed. Dalia looked at the gray one. “Don’t encourage her.” “Why?” “Because she gets worse.” Mandi glanced across. “You say that like you don’t.” Dalia smiled. “I’m your personal joytoy.” “Correct.” “You chose badly.” Mandi laughed. The wolves exchanged a glance. The dark one finally said: “You two always like this?” Mandi and Dalia answered simultaneously. “Yes.” Then looked at each other. Mandi grinned. Dalia’s emerald eyes flashed under a streetlight. The gray wolf shook his head. “This is going to be an interesting hour.” Mandi looked up at him. “You paid seventy-five thousand.” Dalia corrected her: “He paid.” Mandi considered. “Even better.” --- The suite really did require one of the wolves to duck through the doorway. Mandi saw it. Tried not to laugh. Failed. The dark wolf looked down at her. “You done?” “No.” Dalia closed the door behind them. “Give her a minute.” “Traitor.” “You laughed at me for twenty-three minutes earlier.” “I did not laugh for twenty-three continuous minutes.” “Only because Lisa made you drink.” The gray wolf leaned against the wall. “I’m beginning to understand what we bought.” Mandi pointed at him. “Premium service.” Dalia set the leash down. “Before premium service does anything, practical question.” The tone changed. Not colder. Clearer. She looked at both of them. “Anything about the biosculpt we need to know?” Good. The answer took several minutes. Mobility. Sensitive areas. Things that looked dangerous but were not. Things that actually required care. Hard boundaries. Preferences. Mandi listened without interrupting. Dalia asked two follow-ups. Then: “Everyone good?” Three yeses. Including hers. Mandi smiled. “Then come here.” The difference in scale became ridiculous at close range. Mandi clearly loved that. She stood directly in front of the darker wolf and looked up. And up. His altered face lowered toward her. “You’re tiny.” Mandi smiled brightly. “Twenty-five thousand individually.” A laugh rolled out of him. Dalia covered her mouth. “Was that your response?” “It seemed relevant.” “It wasn’t.” “Still true.” The first kiss solved the argument. The room changed from there. Slowly at first. They had more bodies to learn. More differences. More reasons not to rush. Hands explored altered shapes with permission rather than curiosity pretending to be permission. Dalia found the texture of fur unexpectedly pleasant beneath her palms. Mandi discovered that one set of ears reacted dramatically to touch and immediately became insufferably pleased with the information. “You are evil,” Dalia told her. Mandi looked innocent. “He likes it.” The gray wolf, eyes closed: “She has a point.” “See?” Clothing came away. The wolves’ biosculpt required adaptations in how everyone positioned themselves, but nothing became a problem once they stopped trying to make familiar geometry fit unfamiliar bodies. Dalia found herself excited by that. Not because it was strange. Because it required attention without requiring hesitation. When they finally stopped circling it, Mandi was the one who moved into position. She looked at the darker wolf. Waited. He waited too. Then she nodded. The choice became mutual in that small beat. She took him carefully. Scale made the first push a fact, not a metaphor. Mandi swore, laughed, adjusted, and then started to move because the stretch had become heat instead of problem. Dalia stayed with the gray one at first, kissing him, learning the altered shape of his body beneath her hands, fur under her palms, the ridiculous warmth of a chest that wide. Then the combinations shifted. Dalia’s turn came. She chose carefully. Not nervously. The gray wolf gave her all the time she needed to settle astride him. “You good?” Dalia laughed softly. “That’s my question.” “Answer it anyway.” She looked at him. “Yes.” She sank down. The first movement made her breath catch. She stopped. Not alarmed. Adjusted. He remained completely still until she moved again herself. Better. Dalia exhaled. Then smiled. “Okay.” “Okay?” “Definitely.” She fucked him slowly after that, whiskey voice gone quiet, pink hair falling forward, his hands enormous and careful at her waist. Across the room Mandi heard her. Looked over. Their eyes met while both of them were full of someone else. Mandi saw Dalia’s expression. Dalia saw Mandi understand it. That was enough. No commentary. Not now. They changed later. Mandi on her back under the gray one. Dalia with the darker wolf’s mouth at her throat while she used her hand on him, then her body again when she wanted the size back. Pauses. Water. A laugh when an ear flicked at the wrong moment. By the final stretch the novelty had disappeared. Four people. Different bodies. Same requirements. When the last of it broke — Mandi first, loud; Dalia later, shaking against fur — they ended in a loose, ridiculous pile that had no chance of looking elegant. Mandi was almost entirely hidden. Her voice emerged from somewhere between bodies. “I have made tactical errors.” Dalia was laughing too hard to answer immediately. The gray wolf shifted enough to free Mandi’s head. “There.” Mandi inhaled dramatically. “Air.” Dalia wiped at one eye. “You chose that spot.” “I was optimistic.” The dark wolf laughed. For a while, nobody got up. Warmth lingered. Breathing settled. Mandi found Dalia’s hand somewhere in the pile. Squeezed. Dalia squeezed back. Eventually Mandi looked at the clock. Fifty-nine minutes. Her eyes widened. Dalia saw. “No.” Mandi pointed. “Fifty-nine.” “Yes.” “One minute.” “Yes.” “We almost achieved perfection.” Dalia stared at her. “You are impossible.” Mandi looked deeply serious. “We could stay one more minute.” The wolves started laughing. Dalia closed her eyes. “Mandi.” “What?” “The booking ends in one minute whether we leave or not.” Mandi considered. Then smiled. “Oh.” Dalia threw a pillow at her. --- Back at Lizzie’s, Lisa took one look at them and abandoned the small water bottles. She put two large ones on the counter. Mandi stared. “Rude.” “Drink.” Dalia sat without being told. That alone made Lisa look pleased. Mandi sat beside her. Also without being told. Lisa’s eyebrows rose. Mandi pointed. “Do not make this a thing.” Lisa smiled. “Food.” “Yes, Mom.” Lisa’s smile disappeared. Mandi immediately corrected: “Yes, Lisa.” Dalia started laughing into her water. Lisa looked between them. “You both okay?” Dalia checked. Really checked. Tired. Pleasantly. Nothing wrong. “Yes.” Mandi did the same. “Yes.” “Good.” Food arrived. Neither argued. For several minutes, they simply ate. Then Mandi looked at Dalia. Dalia caught it. “What?” “You said ‘definitely.’” Dalia stopped chewing. Mandi’s grin appeared. “When he asked if you were okay.” Dalia swallowed. “Yes.” “You said—” “I remember.” “Very enthusiastically.” Dalia’s emerald eyes narrowed. “Mandi.” “Just observing.” Dalia leaned closer. Her voice dropped into that rough, warm register Ace had already discovered could turn almost anything indecent. “You were busy.” Mandi’s smile sharpened. “I can multitask.” “I noticed.” That stopped her for half a beat. Dalia smiled. Victory. Then Lisa spoke from behind them. “Thirty minutes.” Both turned. Mandi frowned. “What?” Lisa folded her arms. “Recovery.” Mandi looked at the clock. Then back. “Thirty?” “Yes.” “Our slot ended.” “I know.” “We’re free.” “No. You’re recovering.” Mandi stared. Dalia took another drink. “Sounds reasonable.” Mandi turned on her. “Whose side are you on?” Dalia sucked thoughtfully on the menthol lollipop she had finally reclaimed. “Mine.” Mandi stared. Then laughed. “Okay.” She leaned back. Thirty minutes. For once, even Mandi did not immediately fight the clock. Not much, anyway. Outside, people continued moving past Lizzie’s. A group of four women slowed. One of them recognized Mandi. Another pointed toward Dalia. The third said something. The fourth— wearing a ridiculous little glowing bride-to-be accessory in her hair— looked through the entrance directly at both of them. Then all four women started talking at once. Mandi noticed. Dalia followed her gaze. The four women looked toward them again. Mandi slowly smiled. Dalia removed the menthol lollipop. “Trouble?” Mandi watched the bride-to-be’s friends begin walking toward Lizzie’s. “Probably.” Dalia’s eyes flashed emerald. “Good.” Lisa looked at both of them. “Twenty-eight minutes.” Mandi groaned. The bachelorette party was coming anyway. --- # Chapter 7 — The Bride The four women did not approach quietly. That was the first promising sign. The second was that the glowing **BRIDE** accessory was apparently not ridiculous enough by itself, because somebody had added two tiny animated hearts orbiting it. The third was that the bride herself looked like she wanted to murder whichever friend had done that. Mandi liked her immediately. She sat beside Dalia inside Lizzie’s, water bottle in hand, watching the group come through the entrance. “Twenty-seven minutes,” Lisa said. Mandi did not look away. “You said twenty-eight thirty seconds ago.” “Yes.” “That was not thirty seconds.” Dalia slowly turned toward her. “Mandi.” “What?” “You’re arguing with linear time again.” “I’m auditing it.” The menthol lollipop shifted between Dalia’s lips. “Of course.” The four women reached them. One was clearly the organizer: short silver hair, bright red jacket, expression carrying the focused determination of someone who had spent the day making increasingly questionable decisions on behalf of her best friend. Beside her stood a tall brunette already grinning at Mandi. The third had blue hair, several facial piercings, and the unmistakable look of someone responsible for at least half the questionable decisions. And then there was the bride. Blonde. Pretty. Flushed. Glowing sign above her head. Trying desperately to look dignified. Failing. Her eyes went to Mandi. Then Dalia. Then back. “Oh, fuck you all.” Her friends exploded. Mandi covered her mouth. Dalia’s shoulders moved once. The woman in red pointed at the bride. “See?” “I said they were hot. I did not say *hire them*.” “You said—and I quote—” “No.” “‘If those two are actually working together, I’m going to make terrible decisions.’” The bride closed her eyes. Mandi leaned toward Dalia. “I like them.” Dalia removed the lollipop. “So do I.” The rough voice made the bride open her eyes again. That did not improve her situation. Her gaze snapped toward Dalia. Dalia smiled. Blue-hair noticed. “Oh, she’s fucked.” “Stop helping!” Mandi finally gave up and laughed. The organizer looked at Lisa. “Can we borrow them?” Lisa folded her arms. “No.” All four women blinked. Mandi turned. “What?” Lisa pointed at Mandi and Dalia. “Recovery.” The organizer looked at the clock. “How long?” “Twenty-six minutes.” Mandi immediately said: “Twenty-five.” Lisa looked at her. Mandi smiled. “Rounding.” “Twenty-six.” The bride laughed. That was enough to break whatever embarrassment remained. The organizer shrugged. “We can wait.” Mandi stared at her. “You can?” Dalia closed her eyes. The brunette frowned. “Yeah?” Mandi looked genuinely fascinated. “What do you do?” The four women stared. Dalia leaned closer. “She hasn’t figured that part out yet.” “Fuck you.” Dalia returned the lollipop to her mouth. “Seventy-five thousand.” Blue-hair doubled over. The bride’s face went scarlet. Mandi turned toward Dalia. “You have one joke.” “It keeps working.” “It really does.” The organizer recovered first. “Actually.” She looked at Mandi, then Dalia. “That’s why we came over.” Mandi’s smile shifted into professional attention. “Both?” “Yes.” “Seventy-five thousand. One hour.” The organizer shook her head. “Not one hour.” Mandi’s eyebrow rose. Dalia removed the lollipop. “What exactly are you asking for?” The organizer pointed at the bride. “Her.” The bride looked toward the ceiling. “Please kill me.” “Tomorrow,” blue-hair said. “Cass.” Cass ignored the warning. “She’s getting married. We want both of you with her first.” Mandi looked at the bride. Then her three friends. Then back. “And after that?” The brunette grinned. “We want you two to keep taking turns with her until she forgets why she was embarrassed.” The bride covered her face. Blue-hair added: “Preferably until she forgets her own postal code.” “Tess.” “What? We’re paying.” Dalia looked at the bride. “And you?” The three friends became quiet. Good. The bride lowered her hands. Still red. Still smiling. “Yes.” Dalia held her gaze. “You actually want that?” The bride laughed nervously. “I am going to murder all three of them tomorrow.” “Not what I asked.” A pause. Then the bride looked from Dalia to Mandi. “Yes. I really fucking do.” Mandi smiled. “There we go.” Cass looked between them. “So?” Mandi looked at Dalia. This time the calculation was real. One client. Both of them. A first shared round. Then a long alternating session with breaks, water, and no pretending it could fit into an ordinary slot. Dalia reached the same answer. And underneath the calculation came something much simpler. Yes. That sounds fun. Her eyes flashed emerald. Mandi saw it. “One hundred thousand.” Cass blinked. “For how long?” Dalia answered. “Long enough to do what you just described without turning it into a race.” The bride stared at her friends. Cass asked: “Hundred?” Mandi nodded. “One hundred thousand.” Cass opened the payment interface. The booking request appeared on both agents. **100,000 €$ — PENDING.** Mandi looked at Dalia. Dalia looked at the bride. The bride swallowed. Then smiled. Dalia accepted. Mandi did too. The confirmation arrived. **100,000 €$ — RECEIVED.** Tess whistled. The bride looked at Cass. “You just spent a hundred thousand eddies on my bachelorette party.” Cass shrugged. “You only get married once.” The brunette coughed. Everyone looked at her. “What?” The bride narrowed her eyes. “You were about to say something.” “No.” “You absolutely were.” “I was going to say statistically—” “Don’t.” Mandi laughed. Lisa did not. “Twenty-two minutes.” Six heads turned toward her. Cass blinked. “We paid.” “Yes.” “So—” “Their recovery ends in twenty-two minutes. Your booking starts after that.” Cass considered. Then nodded. “Fair.” Mandi stared. “You people are frighteningly good at waiting.” The bride laughed. Dalia patted Mandi lightly on the head. “Maybe you’ll learn something.” Mandi looked up at her. “Remove the hand.” Dalia did. Then immediately put it back. The nearest Mox burst out laughing. Mandi caught Dalia’s wrist. Dalia looked down. There it was again. Easy. Playful. No need to think about whether she should escalate. So she did. She took the menthol lollipop from her mouth, caught Mandi by the front of her jacket, and kissed her hard enough that the entire waiting group went quiet for half a second. Not a peck. Not a private little affectionate beat. A long, shameless kiss with enough tongue in it that Tess made a sound somewhere between delight and disbelief. Dalia finally released Mandi, put the lollipop back into her mouth, and looked at the bride. “Better than waiting.” The room broke. Mandi stared up at her. “That was bribery.” “Yes.” “Effective.” “I know.” The bride was laughing now instead of blushing. Good. Dalia looked at her. “Name?” “Erin.” “Nice to meet you, Erin.” “You too.” Mandi looked at Cass. “And the rest of the criminal conspiracy?” Cass introduced them properly. Nora, the brunette. Tess, blue hair. Cass. Names exchanged. The next twenty minutes became useful rather than dead. Boundaries. What Erin wanted. What she did not. What her friends were allowed to watch and joke about. What would make her call the whole thing off. Cass was much less reckless than her opening pitch suggested. Nora was curious about everything. Tess talked filthy enough that Mandi finally encountered someone willing to compete. That escalated immediately. Dalia mostly watched until Tess made the mistake of asking: “So which of you is worse?” Mandi pointed at Dalia. “She looks calm because she’s deceptive.” Dalia raised an eyebrow. “I’m deceptive?” “You wear a menthol lollipop to hide cigarette smoke that doesn’t exist.” Tess stared. “What?” Dalia removed it. “It covers the cigarette smell.” “You smoke?” “No.” Tess stared. Dalia put it back. Cass whispered: “What the fuck?” Mandi threw both hands up. “THANK YOU.” Erin laughed hard enough that the glowing hearts above her head shook. By the time Lisa finally said: “Clear.” Mandi was standing before the word finished. Lisa sighed. Dalia stood. Cass gave them the suite address. Mandi checked it. Dalia checked it. Large enough. Nearby. Known property. Good. Lisa caught Dalia before they left. “Both of you.” Dalia looked back. “After this one?” “Yes.” “How long?” Lisa considered the booking. Then looked at Erin. “Minimum forty-five minutes recovery afterward.” Mandi stopped dead. “What?” Dalia immediately said: “Agreed.” Mandi turned. “Traitor.” “You’re going to need it.” “You don’t know that.” Dalia looked at Erin. Then back at Mandi. “Yes, I do.” Tess laughed. Mandi pointed at her. “You’re rapidly becoming my least favorite audience.” “You love me.” “You paid first. Helps.” --- The suite had an actual sitting area. That was useful. Nobody went directly to the bed. That was more useful. Six people entered. Door closed. The city became muffled behind the glass. And for a moment everyone stood there. The joking stopped naturally. Because now it was real. Erin looked at Mandi. Then Dalia. Dalia walked over first. “Still yes?” Erin breathed in. “Yes.” Mandi came beside her. “You can change that whenever you want.” “I know.” “Good.” Erin looked at her three friends. “You assholes are really going to watch?” Tess dropped onto the couch. “Absolutely.” Nora sat beside her. Cass took the chair. “You’re welcome.” Erin covered her face. Dalia laughed softly and took Erin’s hands away from it. “Look at us.” Erin did. Mandi stepped closer on the other side. Erin between them. Dalia taller. Mandi smaller. Different energies. Different voices. Mandi smiled. “No glowing bride thing in bed.” Erin immediately tore it off. “THANK YOU.” She threw it at Cass. Cass caught it. “Hey!” “Die.” Everyone laughed. The last tension broke. Dalia kissed Erin first. Slowly. Not for the audience. For Erin. Mandi stayed close, one hand at Erin’s waist. When Dalia pulled back, Erin was smiling. Mandi looked up at her. “My turn.” Erin laughed. “Yes.” Mandi kissed her. Different. Brighter. More playful. Then Erin reached for both of them. That was the real beginning. Clothing disappeared gradually. Hands became bolder. Erin stopped looking toward her friends. Then stopped remembering they were there at all. Mandi and Dalia kept the first part centered entirely on her. That had been the request. More importantly, Erin wanted it. They let her choose where she looked, who she kissed, who she pulled closer. The bed became less orderly. Dalia’s supposedly more covering outfit demonstrated again how little that meant once its fastenings were actually used. Erin stared. Mandi caught it. “Told you.” “You told me nothing.” “I tell everyone nothing. It builds mystery.” Dalia looked at Mandi. “You never stop talking.” “Different kind of mystery.” Erin laughed against Dalia’s shoulder. Then the joking faded. The first round became closer. More intimate. Erin between them. When they moved toward actually taking her, all three slowed. No assumption. Erin looked from one to the other, breathing faster now. “Yes.” Dalia smiled. “We didn’t ask yet.” “I know.” Mandi laughed softly. “Enthusiastic.” “Shut up.” “No.” Erin pulled Mandi into another kiss. The answer became physical. Mandi put her mouth between Erin’s legs first. Dalia kissed Erin through it, one hand on a breast, the other holding Erin’s wrist so the bride had something to crush besides dignity. That was the point. Not a turn order. Erin never felt passed from one person to another. Her embarrassment vanished first. Then self-consciousness. Then most coherent speech. Tess made one appreciative sound from the couch. Erin managed: “Shut the fuck up.” Tess immediately covered her mouth with both hands. Mandi started laughing against her. That did not last long either. Dalia replaced Mandi’s mouth with her fingers and then her thigh. Mandi climbed higher and let Erin taste herself on Mandi’s mouth. Erin came like that, noisy, holding Dalia’s shoulder and Mandi’s hair, the BRIDE glow somewhere on the floor. Then everything slowed. Breathing broke. Movement stopped. Nobody immediately changed anything. Mandi stayed against Erin. Dalia kissed her forehead. They gave her the stillness. Let her come back. Erin finally opened her eyes. “Oh.” Dalia’s rough voice softened. “You good?” Erin nodded. Then looked at both of them. “Still yes.” Mandi grinned. “That is extremely useful information.” From the chair Cass said: “You’re welcome.” Erin raised one hand without looking and gave her the finger. The room exploded. The hundred-thousand-eddie booking had finished only its first round. Nobody mistook that for the end. --- # Chapter 8 — Again They took a real break. Not a theatrical one. Water. Breathing. A little food from the tray Cass had ordered with the room. Erin sat wrapped in a sheet between Mandi and Dalia while her three friends looked disgustingly pleased with themselves. Tess raised her bottle. “One down.” Erin stared. “Do not count.” “I’m absolutely counting.” Nora leaned toward Tess. “You know she can still kill you tomorrow.” “Tomorrow problem.” Cass looked at Erin. “Still happy?” Erin’s answer came without embarrassment now. “Yes.” “Still want the rest?” Erin looked at Mandi. Then Dalia. “Yes.” Mandi leaned back on her hands. “Oh, I like her now.” Erin pointed at her. “You liked me before.” “Yes, but now you’re making good decisions.” Dalia looked at Mandi. “Define good.” “Expensive.” “Of course.” Erin laughed. Then she looked at Mandi. “Your turn first.” The room quieted by a degree. Dalia’s eyebrow rose. Mandi’s smile sharpened. “Mine?” Erin nodded. “You first. Then her.” Dalia looked at Mandi. Mandi looked back. There it was. The structure Cass had actually bought. Not four women waiting for turns. One bride choosing to keep going. Mandi moved closer. “You sure?” “Yes.” “Then come here.” The second round was Mandi’s. Dalia stayed close enough to remain part of the room but did not crowd the choice. She sat beside them at first, one hand resting on Erin’s leg, the other occasionally reaching for Mandi simply because she could. Mandi’s style was different alone. Faster to tease. Quicker to pull a reaction out of Erin and grin at it. More visibly delighted when Erin stopped trying to look composed for her friends. At one point Erin looked toward the couch. Tess immediately smiled. Mandi caught Erin’s face and turned it back. “No.” Erin blinked. “No what?” “You’re paying attention to the wrong audience.” Cass made a strangled laugh. Erin smiled. “Possessive?” “For the next few minutes? Extremely.” Dalia’s rough voice came from beside them. “That was almost convincing.” Mandi did not look away. “Jealous?” “No.” “Disappointed.” Dalia smiled. “Try harder.” Erin started laughing. Then Mandi kissed her and the conversation lost priority. When they went again, Erin chose. She pulled Mandi over her, guided Mandi’s hand, then Mandi’s hips, and only when Mandi checked her face and Erin nodded did Mandi sink two fingers into her and grind down against her thigh. This round was shorter than the first. Not rushed. More focused. Mandi fucked her with her hand and her mouth in turns, close enough to read every change in Erin’s breathing, slower when Erin’s hips asked for it, harder when Erin pulled her closer and said more. The friends stopped joking for a while. Not because anyone had forbidden it. Because watching Erin stop being embarrassed was more interesting. Erin came with a broken laugh and one hand over her own mouth until Mandi pulled it away. Mandi stayed folded against her. Erin’s eyes remained closed. Breathing slowly returning. Dalia handed her water without comment. Erin drank. Opened one eye. “Two.” Tess lifted both hands. “I said nothing.” “You were thinking it.” Mandi looked delighted. “She’s learning.” Dalia stood. Erin saw her. And smiled. “Your turn.” Dalia’s answer came immediately. “Yes.” Mandi heard the speed of it and smiled. Dalia joined Erin on the bed. The third round changed the temperature. Dalia did not imitate Mandi. She did not need to. She was slower without becoming cautious, calmer without becoming distant. Erin had already learned that the rough voice did not mean rough handling unless she asked for it. The contrast amused her enough that she said so. “You sound like you smoke two packs a day and make terrible decisions.” Dalia paused. Mandi made a choking sound. Tess pointed. “The lollipop!” Dalia closed her eyes. Cass stared. “What?” Mandi was already laughing. Dalia sighed. “It covers the cigarette smell.” Erin blinked. “You don’t smoke.” “No.” A beat. Erin started laughing hard enough that Dalia had to wait. Mandi pointed from the other side of the bed. “See? Nobody understands it.” “It doesn’t need to be understood.” “It barely qualifies as logic.” Dalia looked at Erin. “You still want this?” Erin pulled her down into a kiss. That answered it. The laughter vanished into closeness. Dalia let Erin set it. Erin rolled her onto her back and sat on her mouth. The first minutes stayed slow, more deliberate than Mandi’s, Dalia’s hands on Erin’s thighs, whiskey voice useless for anything except breath. Until Erin stopped needing deliberate and simply wanted more. Dalia gave it to her. Not as performance. Not as a role. Because she wanted to. Want. Check. Yes. Instead of check, analyze, explain, permit. Erin said her name. Dalia answered against her. Erin came shaking, one hand braced on the headboard, pink dreadlocks caught in her fingers. Then it broke. Afterward Erin stayed wrapped around her for several breaths. Dalia let her. Mandi’s hand found Dalia’s shoulder. A familiar touch. No need to turn it into anything else. Eventually Erin whispered: “Three.” Dalia opened her eyes. “You’re counting now?” Erin smiled. “Fuck you.” Dalia’s rough voice stayed perfectly calm. “One hundred thousand.” Tess collapsed sideways on the couch. Mandi pointed at Dalia. “That joke is mine.” “No.” “You stole it.” “I improved it.” --- They stopped again. Longer this time. Cass made Erin eat something. Nora replaced water bottles. Tess tried to interview her about the experience and got a pillow in the face. Nobody was in a hurry. That mattered more as the booking stretched. Mandi checked Erin carefully. “You can stop.” “I know.” “You don’t get a medal for using everything Cass paid for.” Cass objected from the chair. “I can make a medal.” Erin stared at her. “Don’t you fucking dare.” Nora looked thoughtful. “Could say Hundred Grand Bride.” “NO.” Dalia laughed. Erin looked at her. “Why are you encouraging them?” “I like them.” “You like everyone who says inappropriate things.” Mandi pointed. “I said that.” Dalia nodded. “You were right.” Mandi looked deeply pleased with herself. Erin drank again. Then handed the bottle back. “Again.” Mandi raised an eyebrow. “With me?” “Yes.” Fourth round. Mandi glanced at Dalia. Dalia nodded once. No jealousy. No management. Just shared understanding. Mandi returned to Erin. This time the energy was less teasing. Fatigue had changed the room. Not weakened it. Made it more honest. Erin did not need to be dazzled anymore. She wanted closeness, sex, laughter when it happened, quiet when it did not. Mandi followed that instead of manufacturing a performance. Erin drew Mandi back down after another pause. Mandi answered with a brief smile, then put her fingers back where Erin wanted them and used her mouth lower until movement replaced words. The pace stayed moderate. Built. Stopped once because Erin needed a moment. Started again because Erin asked, hips lifting into Mandi’s hand. When it ended, there was no applause from the couch. Only Nora quietly saying: “Okay, that one was unfair.” Erin opened one eye. “What?” “You look happy.” Erin closed it again. “I hate all of you.” Cass smiled. “We know.” Mandi stayed against Erin until her breathing settled. Then she kissed her once and moved aside. Dalia did not need to ask whose turn came next. Erin looked at her. “Again.” Dalia smiled. “Yes.” Fifth round. Dalia moved in without ceremony. And somewhere between the first kiss and the first shared laugh, Mai realized she had stopped counting decisions entirely. She was still checking safety. Still reading Erin. Still listening. But there was no internal committee meeting before every desire. Dalia wanted. Dalia asked. Erin answered. That was enough. The sex reflected it. Not wilder. Less interrupted by thought. Dalia’s attention stayed on Erin rather than on what the experience said about Mai. Erin pulled Dalia close and put Dalia’s hand between her legs. Dalia answered immediately. Fingers. Then Dalia’s thigh. Their rhythm took longer to build this time. Both were tired. That made the eventual orgasm feel earned rather than automatic. Erin came shaking and then laughed weakly into Dalia’s shoulder. “What?” Dalia asked. “I’m going to need new friends.” Cass called from the chair: “No refunds.” Erin lifted one hand and gave her the finger without opening her eyes. Mandi laughed. Dalia kissed Erin’s forehead. “Five.” Erin groaned. “Fuck you too.” “Still yes?” A pause. Erin checked herself. Actually checked. Then: “Yes. But give me a minute.” Dalia’s smile softened. “Take ten.” No one argued. --- # Chapter 9 — Last One Ten minutes became fourteen. Nobody complained. Not even Mandi. That alone made Tess suspicious. She pointed at her. “You okay?” Mandi looked offended. “Yes.” “You haven’t checked the clock.” “I am capable of personal growth.” Dalia, without looking up from her water: “No.” Nora laughed. Mandi stared at Dalia. “You’re supposed to support me.” “I support reality.” “Hostile relationship.” “Personal joytoy.” Mandi’s mouth opened. Closed. Erin, wrapped in a sheet between them, started laughing. That was a good sign. She had eaten. Drunk. Breathing normal. Still tired. Still smiling. Mandi looked at her. “Seriously.” Erin met her eyes. “I know.” “You can call it.” “I know.” “Cass already spent the money. You don’t owe anybody another round.” Cass nodded from the chair. “Correct.” Erin looked at Dalia. Then Mandi. Then said: “Two more.” Mandi blinked. Dalia’s eyebrows rose. Erin pointed at Mandi. “You.” Then Dalia. “Then her.” Tess whispered: “Jesus Christ.” Erin looked at her. “You wanted me ruined.” Tess held up both hands. “I am respecting the work ethic.” Mandi looked at Dalia. Dalia smiled. “Your turn.” Mandi’s answering grin came immediately. Sixth round. The room no longer treated each beginning as an event. That was the difference now. Mandi moved close. Erin kissed her first. No embarrassment. No performance for friends. No need to pretend novelty still drove the experience. This round belonged to familiarity built over a single absurd evening. They already knew how the other moved. What made the other laugh. When to slow down. When not to. The last time with Mandi came almost quietly. A look. Erin shifting onto her side. Mandi behind her, checking her face, waiting for the smallest nod. Then Mandi’s fingers, then her thigh between Erin’s, then the slow grind that had nothing left to prove. The room around them stayed quiet. Cass held Erin’s discarded glowing BRIDE accessory in her lap like evidence from a crime scene. Nora leaned against Tess. Dalia watched from the edge of the bed. Not with Cass’s earlier observer distance. Close. Affectionate. One hand on Mandi’s back. One on Erin’s hip. Erin came with her eyes closed and Mandi’s mouth against her shoulder. Deep enough. Not dramatic. Mandi stayed still afterward. Forehead against Erin’s shoulder. Breathing settling. Erin’s fingers remained in her hair. For a while nobody spoke. Then Mandi whispered: “Still want seven?” Erin laughed without opening her eyes. “Yes.” Mandi lifted her head. “Insane.” “Your fault.” “Professionally proud.” She kissed Erin once and shifted away. Dalia was already there. Not rushing. Just ready. Erin looked up at her. “Last one.” Dalia removed the menthol lollipop and set it aside. “Last one.” No joke. No escalation game. The seventh round started with a long kiss. Slower than anything earlier. Dalia had no interest in proving stamina. Neither did Erin. The friends had stopped being an audience and become something warmer: three people sitting nearby, making sure Erin had water, passing a blanket when needed, laughing only when she did first. Dalia understood why that mattered. The booking was filthy, absurd, expensive, and intentionally excessive. It was also affectionate. A gift from people who knew Erin well enough to make the joke enormous and still care whether she enjoyed every part of it. Dalia liked that. For the final time, Erin chose again. She sat back against Dalia, guided Dalia’s hand, and kept it there. Dalia stayed close. Two fingers. Slow. Their breathing synchronized for a while. Then lost it. The pace built despite the fatigue. Erin held onto her. Dalia let herself stop analyzing entirely. Not safety. Never that. Meaning. She did not need to know what this said about her while it was happening. She wanted Erin. Erin wanted her. Enough. Erin came slowly and then all at once, Dalia’s mouth at her temple, Dalia’s hand staying until Erin pulled it away. Movement stopped. Erin stayed against her. Dalia closed her eyes. Neither separated. The whole room remained quiet for several breaths. Then Erin said, very softly: “I hate all three of you.” Cass smiled. “Best gift?” Erin opened one eye. Looked at Cass. Then Nora. Then Tess. “Best gift ever.” Tess threw both arms into the air. “YES.” Erin immediately groaned. “Quiet.” Tess lowered them. “Small yes.” Mandi started laughing. Dalia did too. Erin laughed with them until she had to stop and breathe. --- Nobody moved quickly after that. The booking had run long enough that the exact minute had stopped mattering. Cass had paid one hundred thousand eddies for a long premium session, not a stopwatch. Everyone dressed slowly. Erin eventually got the glowing BRIDE accessory back on her head because Nora held her arms while Tess installed it. “This is betrayal.” “It’s documentation.” “There are no recordings.” “Emotional documentation.” Dalia looked at Mandi. Mandi looked back. “Do not steal that phrase,” Dalia said. “Too late.” They returned to Lizzie’s together. Six people moving much more slowly than when they had left. Lisa saw them. Stopped. Looked at Erin. Looked at Mandi. Looked at Dalia. Then pointed at the chairs. “Forty-five minutes.” Mandi did not argue. Lisa’s eyebrows rose. Dalia sat immediately. Also no argument. “Water.” Both accepted bottles. “Food.” Both nodded. Cass looked impressed. “You really do manage them.” Lisa stared. “I keep them alive.” Mandi drank. “We’re very self-sufficient.” Lisa looked at her. Mandi lowered the bottle. “…with support.” “Better.” Erin walked over. No embarrassment left. Just exhaustion and a very satisfied smile. “Thank you.” Mandi’s expression softened. “You good?” “Yes.” Dalia looked at her. “Really?” Erin nodded. “Really.” She glanced toward her friends. “I’m still killing them tomorrow.” Cass shouted: “Worth it!” Erin smiled. Then hugged Mandi. Then Dalia. Dalia returned it easily. When the four women finally disappeared back into Night City, Erin was still arguing about the glowing sign and Tess was still insisting it had become historically significant. Mandi watched them go. Dalia sat beside her, food in one hand, menthol in the other. For a minute neither spoke. Then Mandi looked over. “Seven.” Dalia chewed. Swallowed. “Yes.” “One together. Three me. Three you.” “Yes.” “One hundred thousand.” “Yes.” Mandi stared toward the street. “That was a very good deal.” Dalia laughed. “For them or us?” “Yes.” Lisa passed behind them. “Forty-one minutes.” Mandi did not look at the clock. Dalia noticed. “Are you okay?” Mandi looked offended. “Yes.” “You didn’t check.” “I can grow.” Lisa, without turning: “No.” Mandi sighed. --- Forty-five minutes eventually ended. And this time the next work did not arrive as another premium pair request. That mattered. Mandi went back outside first. A woman in a dark street jacket recognized her almost immediately. “Mandi?” “Yes.” “One hour.” “Twenty-five thousand.” The transfer landed. **25,000 €$ — RECEIVED.** Mandi checked it. “Perfect.” Dalia’s next client approached less than three minutes later. A man with clean chrome, sober eyes, and no interest in bargaining. “Dalia?” She removed the lollipop. “Yes.” “Twenty-five thousand. One hour?” “Yes.” Transfer. **25,000 €$ — RECEIVED.** Dalia checked it. “Come on.” Separate clients. Separate nearby suites. Separate paid hours. The ordinary rhythm returned. Sex. Return. Water. Food. Unused slot time when there was any. Mandi’s client used forty-three minutes. Dalia’s used fifty-one. Which gave Lisa seventeen minutes of Mandi complaining and nine minutes of Dalia watching her complain. Balance restored. Only after both slots had fully cleared did the street offer them something unusual again. A woman in an immaculate charcoal coat stopped outside Lizzie’s. Two men beside her stopped too. She looked through the doorway. At Mandi. At Dalia. Then smiled. Mandi saw her. Dalia followed her gaze. “Corpo,” Mandi said. Dalia shifted the menthol lollipop. “Obviously.” The next seventy-five thousand eddies had arrived. --- # Chapter 10 — The Observer The woman did not approach immediately. That was the first thing Mandi noticed. She simply stood outside Lizzie’s with two men beside her and watched. Older than most of the evening’s clients. Late forties, perhaps early fifties. Immaculate charcoal coat. Expensive jewelry kept deliberately minimal. No visible corporate insignia because anyone who needed one probably did not belong at her level. The two men were younger. Thirties. Fit. Beautiful in two distinctly different ways. And neither appeared remotely confused about why they were there. Mandi looked at Dalia. Dalia was already looking. “Corpo,” Mandi said. Dalia shifted the menthol lollipop. “Obviously.” “Rich.” “Obviously.” “Very rich.” Dalia glanced at her. “You're getting excited.” “I appreciate professional excellence.” “You appreciate money.” “That too.” Lisa appeared behind them. “Thirty-one minutes.” Mandi’s shoulders dropped. The corpo woman saw it. And smiled. “Oh, fuck,” Dalia murmured. “What?” “She saw that.” Mandi looked outside. The woman was walking toward them now. Both men followed. Mandi sat straighter. Dalia did not bother. The woman entered Lizzie’s, stopped in front of them and looked first at Mandi. Recognition. Then at Dalia. Interest. “You’re Mandi.” “Yes.” “And you must be Dalia.” Dalia removed the lollipop. “I must?” One of the men almost smiled. The woman did. “I was told about the hair.” Dalia glanced upward at the neon-pink dreadlocks. “Subtle.” “Extremely.” Mandi looked between the three. “What can we do for you?” The woman's attention returned to her. “I understand the two of you are seventy-five thousand together.” “One hour,” Mandi said. “And separately?” “Twenty-five each.” “Good.” Mandi’s smile sharpened. “What are you thinking?” The woman glanced at her companions. “I want both of you.” Dalia waited. The woman continued. “For them.” Mandi looked at the men. Both looked back. Then Mandi looked at the woman. “You're not participating?” “No.” Dalia’s eyebrow rose. “Watching?” “Yes.” There it was. Something in Dalia’s expression changed. Tiny. Mandi caught it immediately. Of course she did. The woman caught Mandi catching it. Interesting. She looked directly at Dalia. “Is that a problem?” Dalia answered too quickly for Mai to have constructed anything around it. “No.” Mandi’s mouth twitched. Dalia saw. “Don't.” “I said nothing.” “You were about to.” “Possibly.” The woman laughed softly. “Seventy-five?” Mandi nodded. “Seventy-five thousand. One hour. All five of us agree on what happens before anything starts.” “Of course.” Dalia looked at the first man. “You want this?” “Yes.” The second: “Yes.” No hesitation from either. The woman opened her payment interface. The shared booking request appeared. **75,000 €$ — PENDING.** Mandi and Dalia exchanged one look. Accepted. **75,000 €$ — RECEIVED.** Mandi stared at the confirmation for a fraction of a second. Then smiled. “Excellent.” The woman looked toward the entrance. “Shall we?” Lisa answered before either joytoy could. “Thirty minutes.” The woman looked at her. Mandi closed her eyes. Dalia put the lollipop back into her mouth. The woman asked: “Excuse me?” Lisa pointed at Mandi and Dalia. “They're on mandatory recovery.” “I've paid.” “Yes.” “So the hour—” “Starts when they're cleared.” The woman looked at Mandi. Mandi smiled weakly. “She's terrifying.” Lisa stared. Mandi corrected: “She's extremely good at her job.” “Better.” The woman considered Lisa. Then nodded. “Good.” Mandi blinked. “Good?” “I paid seventy-five thousand eddies. I'd prefer you weren't exhausted before we begin.” Dalia slowly looked at Mandi. Mandi pointed at her. “No.” Dalia removed the lollipop. “I didn't say anything.” “You were going to.” “Maybe you should learn from her.” “Fuck you.” Dalia’s voice stayed perfectly dry. “Seventy-five thousand.” One of the men coughed into his hand. The woman laughed. Mandi stared at Dalia. “That joke is going to die.” “No.” “Eventually.” “No.” “Please?” Dalia smiled. “No.” --- The thirty minutes became useful. Again. The woman's name was Vivienne. The men were Adrian and Tomas. Not employees. Not hired company. Long-term companions, although Vivienne deliberately left the exact shape of that relationship undefined. Fine. Nobody needed it. What mattered was the booking. Vivienne wanted to watch. That was the core of it. Not direct. Not participate. Watch. Mandi looked at her. “Both of them with both of us?” “Yes.” “Preference on combinations?” “No.” Dalia asked: “Do they?” Vivienne smiled. “Ask them.” Good answer. So they did. Adrian was more interested in Dalia. Tomas had recognized Mandi before they entered. Neither wanted exclusivity. Both wanted the group dynamic. Mandi nodded. “Anything you don't want?” The answers came. Clear. Specific. Dalia added hers. Mandi added hers. Vivienne listened without interrupting. Then Dalia looked at her. “And you?” Vivienne raised an eyebrow. “I'm watching.” “Watching still has boundaries.” That earned a longer look. Then Vivienne nodded. “No recording.” “Good.” “No instructions once you start unless someone asks me.” “Better.” “And I don't want either of them performing for me.” Mandi tilted her head. Vivienne continued. “I want to see what happens when they stop remembering I'm there.” Dalia’s green eyes reflected emerald under the club lighting. “Interesting.” Vivienne smiled. “I thought you might think so.” Mandi looked between them. “Oh, great.” Dalia turned. “What?” “You've found another watcher.” Vivienne laughed. Dalia calmly put the lollipop back into her mouth. Mandi pointed. “That wasn't a denial.” “No.” “Of course not.” Lisa finally appeared. “Clear.” Mandi stood instantly. Vivienne looked at the clock. Then at Mandi. “You really were counting.” Dalia started laughing. Mandi looked wounded. “Everybody is against me tonight.” Lisa handed both of them water for the walk. “Drink.” Mandi took hers. “Even the clients.” Vivienne smiled. “I've known you twelve minutes.” “Exactly. Fast betrayal.” --- Vivienne had booked the suite herself. Not merely expensive. Absurd. Private elevator. Large lounge. Actual bedroom rather than a bed shoved into a rentable box. Night City spread across the windows. Mandi walked inside. Looked around. Whistled. Vivienne removed her coat. “You approve?” Mandi looked at the furniture. “I'm considering stealing a chair.” Dalia walked past her. “You'd need help carrying it.” Mandi stared. Adrian laughed. Tomas looked away. Vivienne made no effort whatsoever to hide her amusement. “Dalia.” “Yes?” “I like you.” Mandi threw both hands up. “Everybody likes her.” Dalia removed the lollipop. “You do.” “That is different.” “How?” Mandi opened her mouth. Paused. Dalia smiled. Mandi pointed. “We are working.” “Convenient.” Vivienne crossed to an armchair near the bedroom area. And sat. That simple action changed the atmosphere. She really meant it. No participation. No positioning herself close enough to become part of things accidentally. Observer. Mandi looked at Dalia. Dalia looked at the two men. “All good?” Four answers. Yes. Vivienne's included. Good. Dalia put the lollipop aside. Mandi stepped toward Tomas. Dalia toward Adrian. Not because anyone had assigned them. Because that was where the first interest had naturally fallen. The first kisses happened almost simultaneously. Vivienne watched. Quietly. Mandi noticed her for perhaps thirty seconds. Then stopped. Tomas was easy to like. Confident without trying to direct everything. He knew who Mandi was. That created expectations. Mandi deliberately ignored them. If he had paid for some imagined version from stories circulating around Jig-Jig, he could discover the real one himself. Dalia had a different problem. Adrian was fascinated by her voice. He pulled back after their second kiss. “That doesn't sound natural.” Dalia’s eyebrow rose. “Twenty-five thousand and you're critiquing my voice?” He laughed. “No. I like it.” “Better.” “Whiskey?” “No.” “Cigarettes?” Dalia stared. Across the room Mandi heard it. Started laughing. Dalia closed her eyes. Adrian looked confused. “What?” Mandi called: “Ask about the lollipop!” Dalia turned. “I will murder you.” Vivienne laughed from the chair. Adrian looked at the abandoned menthol lollipop. Then Dalia. “No.” Dalia put one hand against his chest. “Good instinct.” Then kissed him again. The conversation ended. Clothing began disappearing. Gradually. Mandi’s quickly. Dalia’s outfit again maintaining its illusion of coverage until the fastenings were actually opened, at which point Adrian stopped whatever he had been about to say. Dalia noticed. “Problem?” “No.” “Good.” Mandi looked over. “See? Lying outfit.” Dalia stared. “Focus on your own client.” Tomas laughed. “She always like this?” Dalia and Mandi answered together. “Yes.” Vivienne smiled. And continued watching. The two initial pairings stayed separate for a while. Not isolated. Mandi could reach Dalia. Dalia could reach Mandi. Hands occasionally crossed the space. A kiss happened between them simply because they were close enough and wanted it. Adrian noticed. Tomas noticed. Vivienne definitely noticed. Nobody commented. That was better. The first shift happened naturally when Tomas reached toward Dalia. Paused. Waited. Dalia looked at him. Then Adrian. Then Mandi. Everyone understood the question. Dalia smiled. “Come here.” The geometry changed. Four people found a new arrangement. Vivienne stayed exactly where she was. Watching. The progression toward actually fucking slowed everyone for a moment. Good. More bodies meant more attention, not less. Mandi checked Tomas. Dalia checked Adrian. Then they checked each other. Yes. Mandi took Tomas first. She sank down on him facing Vivienne on purpose, orange hair a mess, black eyes open. Her expression changed on the first full seat. Dalia saw it. So did Vivienne. Dalia had an absurd moment of understanding why Vivienne liked this. There was something intimate about seeing the instant someone stopped performing composure. Then Dalia had much less time for philosophy. Adrian pulled her attention back. She settled astride him only after she had him exactly where she wanted him. Pause. Breath. A look. “Yes?” “Yes.” She took him. Slow. Then easier. Then no longer slow. Vivienne watched Dalia’s mouth fall open and did not hide that she was watching. The room filled with overlapping rhythms. Not synchronized. Not staged. Two pairings existing close enough to influence each other. Then changing. Mandi moved. Tomas followed. Adrian reached for her. Dalia shifted toward Tomas. Nobody announced the exchange. Nobody needed to. Vivienne did not speak. Dalia glanced toward her once. Vivienne was leaning back in the chair. Completely still. Eyes intent. And visibly enjoying herself. Dalia smiled. Vivienne saw. That made her smile too. Mandi caught the exchange. Of course she did. Even while occupied. “You two are weird.” Dalia laughed breathlessly. “You're currently in no position to judge anyone.” Tomas lost his rhythm laughing. Mandi stared at her. “Goddammit.” Vivienne finally spoke. “One point to Dalia.” Mandi gasped. “You said no instructions!” “That wasn't an instruction.” Adrian laughed. Dalia looked toward Vivienne. “I like her too.” “Traitor.” Then the room swallowed the joke again. The second stretch was less orderly. More fluid. Partners changed. Positions changed. Someone needed a pause. Everyone took it. Water. A laugh. A hand remaining on a thigh. Then renewed interest pulled them back together. Dalia stopped thinking about Vivienne entirely. Which was precisely what Vivienne had wanted. The final stretch built almost accidentally. Mandi and Dalia close together. Adrian and Tomas with them. Four people no longer working out where hands belonged because they already knew. Breathing became ragged. Speech disappeared. Then one person broke. Another followed. The rhythm fragmented. Intensity passed through the group unevenly rather than all at once. Dalia held onto Mandi. Mandi held back. And eventually there was only the slow collapse afterward. Nobody immediately separated. Mandi ended partly against Dalia. Adrian beside them. Tomas close enough that one arm remained across Mandi. For a while, the four simply stayed there. Breathing. Cooling. Eyes closed. Dalia felt Mandi’s fingers find hers. Squeeze. She squeezed back. Then a voice from the chair said: “Excellent.” Four heads turned. Vivienne had not moved. Mandi stared at her. “You really watched the whole thing.” Vivienne raised an eyebrow. “That was rather the point.” Dalia laughed. Mandi looked at Dalia. “Don't.” “I said nothing.” “You're thinking seventy-five thousand.” Dalia’s smile appeared. “Actually, I was thinking she got excellent value.” Vivienne laughed. Tomas buried his face against the bedding. Adrian shook his head. Mandi stared. “You've become a monster.” Dalia leaned over. Kissed her. Then whispered against her mouth: “Fast learner.” Mandi smiled. “Bitch.” “Yours.” --- They used the full hour. Exactly. Mandi discovered this while dressing. She stared at the clock. Dalia saw. “No.” Mandi pointed. “Exactly sixty.” “Yes.” “No unused time.” “Yes.” Mandi looked genuinely moved. “It's beautiful.” Adrian started laughing. Tomas asked: “Is she serious?” Dalia retrieved her menthol lollipop. “Unfortunately.” Vivienne stood. She looked entirely composed. Of course she did. She approached Mandi and Dalia. “Worth the seventy-five.” Mandi smiled. “Good.” Vivienne looked at Dalia. “And the watching.” Dalia put the lollipop into her mouth. “Also good?” “Very.” Something passed between them. Recognition. Dalia understood that particular appetite a little better now. Then Vivienne looked at both men. “Ready?” “Yes.” They left together. Mandi watched the door close. Then looked at Dalia. “You liked her.” “Yes.” “You liked her watching.” “Yes.” “You liked watching her watch.” Dalia paused. Mandi’s grin widened. “Oh my God.” Dalia pointed the lollipop. “Careful.” “Dalia.” “Mandi.” “You have developed recursive voyeurism.” Dalia stared at her. Then started laughing. “Fuck you.” Mandi spread her arms. “Finally got one.” Dalia grabbed her jacket. “Lizzie's.” Mandi followed. Still laughing. --- Lisa saw them return. Looked at the clock. Then at both. “Hour?” “Exactly,” Mandi said proudly. Lisa stared. “Congratulations?” “Thank you.” “That wasn’t praise.” “Too late.” Lisa handed over water. Both drank. Food followed. Neither argued. Then Lisa looked at them properly. “How are you?” Dalia checked first. Tired. Definitely. Nothing wrong. “Good.” Mandi took longer. Then: “Good.” Lisa nodded. “Forty-five minutes.” Mandi’s face fell. Dalia started laughing. “Why?” Lisa stared at her. “Because you just did a four-person session in the middle of a very long shift.” Mandi opened her mouth. Closed it. Then sat. Dalia sat beside her. “Growth.” “Fuck off.” “Good girl.” Mandi slowly turned. Dalia sucked innocently on the menthol lollipop. Mandi looked at Lisa. “You heard that.” “Yes.” “Do something.” “No.” “Useless.” Lisa smiled. “Drink.” Mandi drank. --- When the recovery period cleared, they went back to ordinary work. That mattered. The observer booking did not automatically turn the rest of the night into a sequence of premium group sessions. A man in a tailored jacket approached Mandi first. “Mandi?” “Yes.” “One hour.” “Twenty-five thousand.” Transfer. **25,000 €$ — RECEIVED.** Mandi checked it. “Perfect.” Dalia’s next client was a woman with silver contacts and an expensive coat. “Dalia?” Dalia removed the lollipop. “Yes.” “Twenty-five thousand?” “One hour.” Transfer. **25,000 €$ — RECEIVED.** Dalia checked it. “Come on.” Separate clients. Separate suites. The same Mox-monitored radius. Mandi returned after thirty-nine minutes and was immediately furious at the remaining twenty-one. Dalia used fifty-three and returned to find Mandi halfway through an argument with Lisa about whether standing near a chair counted as resting. “It does not,” Lisa said. “I was adjacent to rest.” “That is not a thing.” Dalia sat down. “It is now.” Mandi pointed at her. “Do not validate me sarcastically.” “Drink your water.” Mandi looked betrayed. The ordinary slots cleared. Then the front door opened. Two women entered hand in hand. One tall and elegant, dark hair swept back from a chrome temple. The other shorter, athletic, wearing a jacket that probably cost more than several cars. They saw Mandi. Saw Dalia. Then smiled. Dalia watched the way they touched each other. Easy. Familiar. Already intimate. Mandi had noticed too. This would not be two clients wanting two joytoys. It would be a couple inviting another couple into their bed. Dalia felt the answer arrive immediately. Before the questions. Before the boundaries. Before the booking. Yes. Mandi saw it on her face. “Oh, fuck.” Dalia smiled around the menthol lollipop. “What?” “You already want this one.” Dalia looked toward the waiting women. Then back. “Yes.” Mandi’s grin appeared. “Good.” --- # Chapter 11 — The Couple Forty minutes was an eternity if you were Mandi. The two women waiting nearby discovered this in stages. At thirty-eight minutes remaining, Mandi finished her water and looked toward the clock. At thirty-six, she shifted position. At thirty-four, she stood. Lisa did not even look up. “Sit.” Mandi sat. The shorter woman laughed. Mandi pointed at her. “You have no idea how hostile this workplace is.” The taller woman leaned back comfortably beside her partner. “We’ve been here six minutes.” “Exactly. You’re already witnessing abuse.” Dalia sucked thoughtfully on her menthol lollipop. “You were fed.” Mandi looked at her. “Against my will.” “You ate all of it.” “That proves nothing.” “You asked for another piece.” “Fabrication.” Lisa, from behind the bar: “She did.” Mandi closed her eyes. The couple laughed again. Dalia watched them. Not because she was trying to profile them. Not anymore. Because she liked the way they sat together. The taller woman had one hand resting loosely across her partner’s knee. Not possessive. Not performative. Just familiar. The shorter woman occasionally leaned into her shoulder without interrupting the conversation. Neither seemed nervous about being seen touching. Neither seemed to need to demonstrate anything. Established. Comfortable. Dalia understood that kind of ease. Mandi did too. She was watching now. The shorter woman noticed. “So.” Mandi smiled. “So.” “You two actually together?” Mandi’s grin became brighter. Dalia removed the lollipop. “Yes.” The taller woman looked between them. “Not just work?” “No,” Dalia said. Mandi leaned into Dalia’s side. “Personal joytoy.” Dalia looked down at her. Mandi looked completely shameless. The shorter woman laughed. “Okay. We heard that part.” Dalia’s eyebrow rose. “Oh?” “Word travels.” Mandi brightened. “Excellent.” Lisa muttered: “That should worry you.” “It does not.” “We know.” The taller woman smiled. “I’m Ren.” Her partner lifted two fingers. “Jo.” Names. Good. Mandi repeated them once. Dalia did too. Ren glanced toward the clock. “Thirty-one?” Lisa answered: “Thirty-two.” Mandi looked offended. “That cannot be right.” “It is.” “You’re adding time.” “I’m not.” “You’re enjoying this.” “Yes.” Jo laughed so hard she leaned fully into Ren. Mandi pointed toward Lisa. “See? Corrupt.” Dalia patted Mandi’s thigh. “Good girl.” Mandi froze. Ren made a choking sound. Jo looked delighted. Lisa walked away before anyone could see her expression. Mandi slowly turned toward Dalia. “You are abusing privileged information.” Dalia shifted the menthol lollipop. “Sounds fun.” Mandi stared. Then smiled. “Later.” That answer sat between them for half a second. Jo caught it. “Oh, you two are dangerous.” Mandi looked at her. “You came here voluntarily.” “Exactly.” --- By twenty minutes remaining, the joking had softened into practical conversation. Mandi finally stopped fighting the clock long enough to ask the question that mattered. “What are you looking for?” Ren looked toward Jo first. Not for permission. For coordination. Jo answered. “We’ve been together seven years.” Mandi nodded. Dalia stayed quiet. “We’ve talked about trying something with more people.” Jo smiled slightly. “Talked a lot.” Ren laughed. “Too much.” Dalia’s mouth curved. “I know someone like that.” Mandi looked up. “No.” Ren continued. “We never wanted strangers.” Mandi glanced around Lizzie’s. “This is going well.” Jo laughed. “You know what I mean.” “Yes.” “We wanted people who were already comfortable with each other.” Dalia understood immediately. “Because you don’t want to spend the whole time managing two separate dynamics.” Ren looked at her. “Exactly.” Jo pointed lightly toward her. “That.” Mandi looked at Dalia. “See? Analytical.” Dalia removed the lollipop. “I’m still me underneath.” Ren smiled. Mandi coughed. Dalia looked at her. “What?” “That was dangerously sincere.” Jo laughed. Dalia’s eyebrow rose. “You’re going to pay for that.” Mandi smiled. “Sounds fun.” Dalia stared. Then laughed. Recovery period or not, the rhythm between them had completely shifted. Less cover now. More them. And strangely, that seemed to reassure Ren and Jo instead of breaking anything. Jo looked between them. “So seventy-five thousand?” Mandi nodded. “One hour. Both of us.” Ren looked at Dalia. “And you want this?” Dalia’s answer came immediately. “Yes.” Mandi saw it. There. Again. No pause. No need to justify. Jo smiled. “So do we.” Lisa checked the clock. “Eight minutes.” Mandi leaned back dramatically. “Civilization.” Dalia handed her the last of the water. “Drink.” Mandi stared. Dalia stared back. Mandi drank. Ren whispered to Jo: “She really does manage her.” Mandi heard. “I am self-governing.” Dalia nodded. “Under supervision.” Jo lost it. --- Lisa waited until the recovery timer actually cleared. Not a second earlier. Then: “Good.” Mandi stood. No joke. No wasted movement. Ren and Jo stood too. Dalia removed the menthol lollipop, wrapped it, and put it away. Mandi looked at Ren. “Still seventy-five?” Ren smiled. “Definitely.” The shared booking request appeared. **75,000 €$ — PENDING.** Mandi accepted. Dalia accepted. Confirmation. **75,000 €$ — RECEIVED.** Jo exhaled. Not fear. That little moment when an idea stops being hypothetical. Dalia saw it. “You okay?” Jo nodded. “Yes.” Ren squeezed her hand. “Very.” Mandi smiled. “Then let’s go.” --- Their suite was smaller than Vivienne’s. Better for this. No audience. No giant luxury lounge. Just enough room. The door closed. Four women. Two couples. And for the first time all evening, Mandi did not immediately fill the silence. Dalia noticed that. Ren noticed too. Jo smiled. “You’re quieter here.” Mandi looked up. “Don’t spread that around.” “No promises.” Dalia set the lollipop aside. Then took Mandi’s hand. Not performative. Not because the clients needed proof. Because she wanted it. Ren did the same with Jo. For a moment the symmetry was almost funny. Dalia looked at Ren. “Still feels good?” “Yes.” Jo nodded. “Yes.” Mandi looked at Dalia. Dalia smiled. “Yes.” Four answers. Enough. The first movement was almost absurdly small. Ren kissed Jo. Mandi kissed Dalia. Nobody crossed the gap. Not yet. That helped. Two established couples reminded themselves what home felt like before inviting anyone else into it. Dalia understood the instinct instantly. Mandi probably did too, judging by the way she stayed close. When their kiss broke, Mandi rested her forehead briefly against Dalia’s. Dalia’s rough voice stayed low. “You good?” Mandi smiled. “Very.” Then Jo laughed softly. Both turned. “What?” Mandi asked. Jo looked between them. “Nothing.” “That was something.” “You two are really cute.” Mandi recoiled. “Absolutely not.” Dalia looked at her. “You object to cute?” “I object to witnesses.” Ren smiled. “We paid seventy-five thousand. Witnessing feels included.” Mandi opened her mouth. Dalia beat her to it. “Fair.” Mandi stared. “Betrayal.” Dalia kissed her cheek. “Recovery.” “Not how that word works.” “Worked.” And the room relaxed. Good. Ren crossed the gap first. Not toward Mandi. Toward Dalia. She stopped close. Waited. Dalia smiled. Then kissed her. Jo watched. Mandi watched Jo. Their eyes met. Mandi tilted her head. Jo laughed. “Subtle.” “Not my strongest product.” Jo came closer. Their first kiss was brief. Then longer. And just like that, the two couples stopped being parallel lines. Hands crossed. Partners shifted. Nobody tried to establish ownership. That was the entire point. Dalia found that she liked this arrangement for a completely different reason than the others. No client was center. No handler. No bride. No observer. No performance request. Just four women checking whether shared curiosity could become shared pleasure without damaging what already existed. It could. Easily. That surprised nobody more than Jo. She laughed after Ren kissed Mandi for the first time. Mandi looked at her. “What?” Jo shook her head. “I thought this would feel weirder.” Dalia answered from beside Ren. “So did I.” Mandi looked over. “You did?” Dalia shrugged. “I thought I’d analyze more.” Ren smiled. “And?” Dalia considered. Then: “I’m busy.” Mandi laughed. “There she is.” Clothing gradually disappeared. The atmosphere changed with it. Not toward spectacle. Toward trust. Jo stayed close to Ren whenever she needed to. Mandi and Dalia did the same without even thinking. A touch between original partners before a new combination. A look. A smile. Nothing reset. Nobody became a stranger just because the arrangement changed. When they stopped pretending this was only kissing, they slowed naturally. Not all at once. Not mechanically. Mandi and Ren reached it first. Ren on her back. Mandi’s mouth on her, then Mandi climbing up to grind against her thigh while Jo watched from a handspan away and Dalia kissed Jo through the watching. Clear choices. No assumptions. No one pushed the scene forward simply because they had paid. The room lost whatever neat symmetry it had begun with. Ren laughed once when Mandi ended up almost entirely hidden beneath her. Mandi’s voice emerged: “This keeps happening.” Jo stared. “What?” “Scale problems.” Dalia covered her face. Ren shifted enough to free Mandi. Mandi inhaled dramatically. “Thank you.” Dalia looked down at her. “You chose that.” “I remain optimistic.” Jo was laughing too hard to answer. Then Jo pulled Dalia down and Dalia put her fingers in her, slow, watching Jo’s face the way Mai watched problems she intended to enjoy. Ren reached for Jo’s hand. Mandi reached for Dalia’s hip. Sometimes Mandi with Ren while Dalia stayed on Jo. Sometimes Dalia’s mouth on Ren while Mandi used her hand on Jo. Sometimes both couples collapsing back into their original partners for a minute simply because familiarity felt good. Then crossing again. Jo came first, quiet, forehead against Dalia’s. Ren later, louder, with Mandi’s laugh muffled against her stomach. That was what made it work. Nobody was auditioning for replacement. Nobody was testing love. They were adding something temporary to something stable. Dalia realized she understood that immediately. Of course she did. The first climax happened somewhere in the middle of laughter. Not dramatic. Not synchronized. One person reached the edge first, then needed stillness while the others remained close. Nobody rushed past it. A hand stayed linked. A forehead against a shoulder. Breathing settling. Then the scene resumed only because everyone genuinely wanted it to. The second stretch became slower. More affectionate. Less novelty. Mandi ended up pressed close against Dalia while Ren and Jo kissed beside them. For a moment Dalia simply watched. Mandi felt it. Looked up. “What?” “Nothing.” “You’re doing the face.” “What face?” “The one where you’re realizing something.” Dalia smiled. “I like this.” Mandi’s expression softened. “The group thing?” “The trust.” That quieted everyone within hearing distance. Jo looked at Ren. Ren smiled. Mandi reached up and touched Dalia’s face. No joke. No cover. Just a small acknowledgment. “Yeah.” And because the moment had already said enough, Dalia kissed her. The rest followed naturally. --- They used fifty-seven minutes. Mandi checked. Of course she did. “Three.” Dalia was dressing. “Three what?” “Unused.” Jo laughed. “You’re counting again?” “She always counts,” Dalia said. Mandi looked offended. “Professional discipline.” Ren fastened her jacket. “You’ve been consistently described as incapable of sitting still.” “That is slander propagated by management.” Dalia retrieved her menthol lollipop. “Lisa has evidence.” Mandi pointed. “Hostile witness.” Jo shook her head. “Seven years together and I thought _we_ bickered.” Ren wrapped one arm around her. “We do.” “Yes, but they monetize it.” Dalia froze. Mandi froze. Then both looked at each other. Mandi spoke first. “She has a point.” Dalia nodded. “Seventy-five thousand.” Jo groaned. “Goddammit.” Everyone laughed. The confirmation remained on both agents. **75,000 €$.** Paid. Complete. And, unlike the earlier bookings, none of the four seemed eager to break the little pocket of warmth immediately. Ren kissed Jo. Mandi leaned against Dalia. Dalia put one arm around her. For another minute, nobody went anywhere. Then Jo sighed. “We should probably let you work.” Mandi looked toward the clock. “Technically three minutes left.” Dalia stared down at her. Mandi held the expression for two seconds. Then laughed. “Kidding.” Ren looked at Jo. “That may be growth.” “No,” Dalia said. “Absolutely not.” Mandi gasped. “Again with the betrayal.” Dalia put the menthol lollipop into her mouth. “Fast learner.” --- Back at Lizzie’s, Lisa took one look at all four women. Then at Mandi and Dalia. “Good?” “Yes,” Mandi said. “Very,” Dalia said. Lisa pointed toward the chairs. “Sit.” Mandi sat immediately. Dalia stopped. Looked at her. Lisa stopped too. Mandi looked between them. “What?” Dalia’s eyebrows rose. “You sat.” “Yes.” “Without fighting.” “Yes.” Lisa touched the back of one hand to Mandi’s forehead. Mandi recoiled. “Hey!” “Checking for neurological damage.” Mandi stared. Jo nearly walked into the doorframe laughing. Ren had to stop beside her. Mandi pointed at Lisa. “I hate this workplace.” “Water.” Mandi accepted the bottle. Dalia sat beside her. Food followed. Ren and Jo lingered another minute. Jo looked at both of them. “Thank you.” Dalia nodded. “You okay?” “Yes.” Ren squeezed Jo’s hand. “We’re better than okay.” Mandi smiled. “Good.” Then they left together. Still holding hands. Dalia watched them go. Mandi noticed. “You liked that one.” “Yes.” “Different?” “Yes.” “How?” Dalia thought. Not long. “Nothing was being tested.” Mandi understood. Immediately. “No.” “They already knew what they were to each other.” “Yeah.” “They just wanted more people in the room.” Mandi smiled. “Sounds familiar.” Dalia looked down at her. For a second neither cover mattered. Then the menthol lollipop shifted. “Maybe.” Mandi’s grin widened. “Oh, that was you.” Dalia laughed. “Shut up.” Lisa passed behind them. “Thirty-five minutes.” Mandi looked at the clock. Then— stopped herself. Dalia saw. Lisa saw. Mandi saw both of them seeing. “Do not.” Dalia started laughing. Mandi drank her water with exaggerated dignity. The evening had been running for hours. Individual bookings. Seventy-five thousand together. The wolves. One hundred thousand for Erin’s bachelorette marathon. Vivienne and her two companions. Ren and Jo. Their accounts were becoming ridiculous. Their bodies were tired. Lisa was keeping both fed, hydrated and forcibly attached to chairs at regular intervals. And now, for the first time since they had started, even Mandi looked willing to let the recovery period exist. Mostly. --- Once Lisa cleared them, ordinary work returned again. Mandi’s next client was a woman with a shaved temple and a grin that suggested she knew exactly why Mandi cost what she did. “One hour?” “Twenty-five thousand.” The transfer landed. **25,000 €$ — RECEIVED.** Mandi checked it. “Perfect.” Dalia’s came several minutes later: an older man, sober, direct, no bargaining. “Dalia?” “Yes.” “Twenty-five thousand. One hour.” “Yes.” Transfer. **25,000 €$ — RECEIVED.** Dalia checked it. “Come on.” Neither booking used the whole slot. Mandi’s ended at forty-seven minutes. Dalia’s at forty-two. Which meant Mandi had thirteen minutes to resent and Dalia had eighteen minutes to sit beside her, eat, drink, and make the resentment worse by appearing perfectly content. “You’re doing that on purpose,” Mandi said. “Doing what?” “Being comfortable.” Dalia shifted the menthol lollipop. “Diabolical.” Lisa put another bottle in front of Mandi. “Drink.” Mandi stared at both of them. “This is coordinated.” “Yes,” Lisa said. “No,” Dalia said at the same time. Mandi pointed at Dalia. “Liar.” Dalia smiled. “Fast learner.” The last ordinary slots cleared. The night finally felt like it was winding down. Then someone outside said: “Mandi?” Mandi froze. Not because of the voice. Because she knew it. Dalia looked up. Mandi slowly turned toward the entrance. A woman stood outside. Red hair. Familiar posture. Hands in her jacket pockets. Very amused. Reyes. Mandi stared. Then smiled. “Oh, you absolute bitch.” Dalia followed her gaze. Recognition arrived a heartbeat later. Her menthol lollipop stopped moving. Reyes stepped inside. Mandi was already grinning. History had just repeated itself. Almost. Then Reyes shifted half a step to the side. Someone else walked in behind her. Kiro. Dalia went completely still. Mandi’s grin vanished. Then came back twice as bad. Kiro looked at Mandi. At Dalia. At Dalia’s neon-pink dreadlocks. At the menthol lollipop. Then smiled. “Hi.” Dalia stared. Reyes looked at Lisa. “How long?” Lisa checked the clock. “Five minutes.” Reyes nodded. “We can wait.” Mandi closed her eyes. Dalia slowly removed the lollipop. Her rough voice came out almost reverent. “Of course you can.” Kiro laughed. Mandi opened her eyes and looked at Dalia. Saw the expression. Saw the immediate spark. The answer was already there. Before price. Before logistics. Before anything else. Dalia wanted this. Mandi looked toward Reyes. Then Kiro. Then back to Dalia. “Oh.” Dalia’s emerald eyes flashed. Mandi’s smile became lethal. “Oh, this is going to be expensive.” Reyes smiled. “We know.” Kiro nodded. “Very.” And suddenly five minutes felt extremely short. --- # Chapter 12 — One Hundred Fifty Five minutes became four. Mandi stared at the clock. Then at Reyes. Then Kiro. Then back at the clock. “This is malicious.” Lisa folded her arms. “No.” “This is absolutely malicious.” “You finished the last booking early.” “Three minutes.” “Still early.” “And now they’re here.” “Yes.” “Waiting.” Reyes nodded. “We’re very good at it.” Mandi looked betrayed. Kiro leaned against the wall beside her. “Some of us have hobbies.” Dalia made a low sound around the menthol lollipop. Mandi turned. “Do not.” Dalia removed it. “I didn’t say anything.” “You were thinking something.” “Yes.” “Hostile?” “Very.” Kiro looked at Dalia. The voice still took a second to reconcile with Mai. That was obvious. She had seen the face. The hair. The emerald-reflective eyes. The boots. The entire outrageous premium-joytoy construction. But the rough, smoke-and-whiskey voice kept producing tiny recalibration glitches in her expression. Dalia noticed. Of course she did. “You keep staring.” Kiro blinked. “No.” Dalia waited. Kiro sighed. “Yes.” Mandi looked delighted. “Twenty-three minutes.” Dalia’s head turned sharply. “You do not get to use that number.” “Historic precedent.” Reyes looked between them. “What happened in twenty-three minutes?” “Nothing,” Dalia said. “Everything,” Mandi said simultaneously. Kiro started laughing. Lisa looked at the clock. “Three minutes.” Mandi groaned. Reyes stepped closer. Not toward Mandi. Toward Dalia. She looked her over once. Slowly. Not crude. Not subtle either. Dalia let her. Menthol lollipop resting at one corner of her mouth. Reyes finally said: “Pink.” Dalia raised an eyebrow. “Excellent observation.” “Very pink.” “Better.” Reyes looked at the eyes. The light hit. Emerald. A tiny smile. “You matched the swords.” Mandi immediately pointed at her. “THANK YOU.” Dalia looked toward Mandi. “You’re still emotional about that?” “Yes.” Kiro nodded. “She should be.” Dalia looked between them. “Apparently I’m outnumbered.” Reyes’ gaze dropped to the lollipop. “Menthol?” Dalia closed her eyes. Mandi started laughing before the question finished. Reyes frowned. “What?” Dalia removed it. “Covers the cigarette smell.” Reyes paused. Then looked directly at Mai under the cover. “You don’t smoke.” “No.” Kiro covered her face. Mandi nearly slid off the chair. Reyes stared. Dalia calmly returned the lollipop to her mouth. A long silence. Then Reyes: “Fine.” Dalia blinked. “That’s it?” “I’ve known you people too long.” Mandi pointed accusingly. “That is the wrong response.” Reyes shrugged. “I’m adapting.” Kiro looked at the clock. “One minute.” Mandi stood. Lisa pointed. Mandi froze. The entire room watched. Lisa checked the time again. Then nodded. “Clear.” Mandi spread both arms. “Freedom.” Dalia stood beside her. Reyes and Kiro exchanged a look. Mandi saw. “So.” Reyes looked at her. “So.” Mandi’s grin started. “Twenty-five thousand. One hour.” Reyes shook her head. “No.” Mandi’s eyebrows rose. Dalia’s lollipop stopped. Kiro smiled. Mandi looked between them. “Oh.” Reyes nodded toward Dalia. “Both.” There it was. History first. Reyes had been the last customer on Mandi’s first real night. Mandi knew it. Reyes knew it. Dalia knew it. And for half a second Ace underneath the cover genuinely thought she understood the joke. Then Kiro spoke. “Same.” Mandi looked at her. “What?” Kiro’s smile widened. “Both.” Silence. Dalia slowly removed the lollipop. Mandi stared at Reyes. Then Kiro. Then Dalia. Back to Reyes. “You two planned this.” Reyes’ expression remained perfectly innocent. “No.” Kiro immediately said: “Yes.” Reyes turned. Kiro shrugged. “She was going to figure it out.” Mandi put both hands over her face. Dalia laughed. That rough voice. Warm. Delighted. Completely unable to hide that she loved the idea. Mandi looked at her through her fingers. “Oh, you are into this.” Dalia lowered the lollipop. “Yes.” Kiro caught how quickly it came. So did Reyes. Mandi slowly lowered her hands. The smile that followed was pure Ace. Small. Dangerous. Bright. “All right.” Reyes opened the payment interface. Mandi’s and Dalia’s agents both chimed. **75,000 €$ — PENDING.** Pair booking. Reyes. Mandi + Dalia. Mandi accepted. Dalia accepted. **75,000 €$ — RECEIVED.** Then Kiro opened hers. Second request. **75,000 €$ — PENDING.** Mandi stared. Dalia stared. Lisa stared. Reyes looked like someone trying very hard not to smile. Mandi looked at Kiro. “You know you’re already included.” Kiro nodded. “Yes.” “And Reyes already paid seventy-five.” “Yes.” “For both of us.” “Yes.” Dalia looked from one to the other. Mandi looked at Reyes. Reyes looked back. Nobody said anything for two seconds. Then Dalia accepted. Mandi did too. **75,000 €$ — RECEIVED.** Total: **150,000 €$.** Lisa looked at the confirmations. Then at all four women. Opened her mouth. Stopped. Closed it again. Mandi saw. “What?” Lisa shook her head. “No.” “What?” “Nothing.” “That was something.” Lisa looked at Reyes. Then Kiro. Then Mandi. Then Dalia. “Go.” Mandi blinked. “That easy?” “Yes.” “Why?” Lisa pointed toward the door. “Before I start asking questions.” Dalia put the menthol lollipop away. Reyes looked at Kiro. Kiro looked at Reyes. Then both started walking. Mandi followed. Dalia stayed behind for half a second. Lisa caught her arm lightly. Dalia looked back. Lisa’s expression changed. Still amused. But serious underneath. “You good?” Dalia checked. Not the money. Not Reyes. Not Kiro. Herself. Tired. Definitely. Interested. Very. Nothing wrong. “Yes.” “Really.” “Yes.” Lisa nodded. “Then after this, you’re done.” Dalia smiled. “We were done before this.” Lisa stared. Dalia’s rough voice softened. “Yes, Lisa.” “Water when you get back.” “Yes.” “Food.” “Yes.” “And no arguing.” Dalia looked toward Mandi disappearing through the entrance with Reyes and Kiro. “That one’s mostly her.” “I know.” Dalia grinned. Then left. --- Reyes had booked the suite. Of course she had. Not the largest. Not the fanciest. Just private, clean, close, and sufficiently large for four adults who already knew each other far too well. Mandi walked inside first. Looked around. Then turned. “So.” Reyes closed the door. “So.” Kiro leaned against it. Dalia stood near the bed. For once, nobody immediately made the next joke. Because the joke had already happened. One hundred fifty thousand eddies. Now came the actual choice underneath it. Mandi looked at Reyes. “You sure?” Reyes nodded. Then Kiro. “Yes.” Dalia looked at Kiro. “Really?” Kiro’s answer came faster. “Yes.” Then both looked at Dalia. Dalia smiled. “Yes.” Mandi spread her hands. “Apparently unanimous.” Reyes’ gaze settled on her. “You?” Mandi blinked. Then smiled. “Oh, absolutely.” Good. No assumptions. No history being used as consent. No price replacing choice. Now they could stop talking about whether. Kiro crossed the space first. Not toward Mai. Toward Mandi. That surprised Ace enough that Mandi’s expression flickered. Kiro saw it. “Problem?” Mandi’s smile returned. “No.” “Good.” The kiss was quick at first. Then less quick. Dalia watched. Reyes watched Dalia watching. That became its own small loop. Dalia noticed. “Don’t.” Reyes raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t say anything.” “You were about to.” “Maybe.” Dalia smiled. Then Reyes stepped closer. And kissed her. The rough voice disappeared instantly. Good. No performance left in the room now. Just four people who knew one another in too many other contexts and had somehow arrived here anyway. The first few minutes were almost entirely laughter. Mandi and Reyes falling back into old familiarity. Kiro learning how much of Dalia was simply Mai with fewer brakes on the first impulse. Dalia discovering that Kiro looked at her differently when the voice came out low and rough. Reyes deliberately using that knowledge against both of them. At one point Mandi said: “You planned this.” Reyes answered: “Yes.” Kiro: “I told you.” Mandi pointed at Reyes. “Liar.” Reyes kissed her. Mandi stopped objecting. Efficient. Dalia laughed. Then Kiro kissed her too. The sound changed. Much better. Clothing gradually became less relevant. The four stayed close. No pair map. No turn order. Exactly what their history already suggested. Someone pulled someone else closer. Someone changed position. Someone laughed. Someone asked. Someone answered. When they stopped circling it, it did not happen as one synchronized event. Reyes and Mandi reached that decision first. Familiarity helped. They slowed anyway. A look. “Yes?” Mandi smiled. “Yes.” Mandi pushed Reyes back and put her mouth between her legs like the invoice had purchased precision. Reyes swore. Mandi looked up, black eyes bright, and did not stop until Reyes’s hand tightened in orange hair the way Ace already knew it would. Dalia watched for perhaps three seconds before Kiro caught her attention again. “You’re doing it.” “What?” “Watching.” Dalia’s eyebrow lifted. “You object?” “No.” “Good.” Kiro kissed her. That solved the recursion. For a while. Kiro stayed close enough that Dalia could read every change in expression. Dalia liked that. More than she expected. When Dalia pulled Kiro’s hand between her legs, Kiro paused. Dalia was the one who completed the decision. “Yes.” Two fingers. Then three when Dalia asked. Slow enough to establish comfort. Then naturally faster. Dalia came first of the pair, whiskey voice breaking, pink hair in Kiro’s face. Across the room Mandi looked over. Saw them. Dalia saw Mandi seeing them. That familiar little spike appeared again. Want layered over affection layered over amusement. Dalia smiled. Mandi returned it. Reyes noticed. Of course she did. “Focus.” Mandi looked at her. “I am.” “No.” “Yes.” “You’re staring at your girlfriend.” Mandi’s grin widened. “Have you seen her?” Reyes laughed. Dalia heard. Kiro heard. The room dissolved briefly. Then recovered. The combinations changed after that. Not because anyone announced it. Because someone wanted something else. Reyes kissed Dalia. Kiro reached for Mandi. Mandi shifted. Dalia followed. The existing edges between the four of them became increasingly irrelevant. And somewhere in the middle of it, Dalia realized something important. She was tired. Not dangerously. Not past a line. Just tired. And still happy. Still present. Still choosing. That mattered. She checked herself. Then kept going. No performance. No obligation. Just want. The intensity built and broke in waves. Not perfectly timed. Not symmetrical. Reyes had Mandi on her back and her mouth on Mandi’s throat while Mandi’s hips chased her hand. Across the same bed Dalia had Kiro’s thigh between hers and one of Reyes’s hands in her hair because the combinations had stopped asking permission from geometry. Somebody needed to stop for a moment. Everyone stopped. Water. Breath. A kiss. A joke about one hundred fifty thousand. Then someone wanted to continue. So they did. By the final stretch the room was warm and thoroughly disordered. Mandi ended close to Dalia. Reyes on one side. Kiro on the other. The last climb took effort. Tired bodies. Slower responses. Not weaker. Dalia came again with Mandi’s mouth on her, almost laughing at how little dignity any of them had left. Mandi followed, quieter, clinging. Reyes and Kiro later, overlapping, no one keeping score except the clock they had already forgotten. When it finally broke, nobody moved immediately afterward. That was the first thing Dalia noticed. All four stayed where they were. Breathing. Eyes closed. Contact lingering wherever it had ended up. Mandi’s hand found Dalia’s. Dalia squeezed. Kiro’s forehead rested briefly against Dalia’s shoulder. Reyes lay still enough that Mandi eventually opened one eye. “You alive?” “Yes.” “Disappointing.” Reyes did not open her eyes. “You paid nothing for this privilege.” Mandi froze. Dalia opened her eyes. Kiro did too. A silence. Then all three looked at Reyes. Reyes finally opened one eye. “What?” Mandi stared. “You paid.” “Yes.” “Kiro paid.” “Yes.” Kiro’s expression shifted. Dalia saw the thought forming. Almost. Almost. Then Mandi kissed Reyes before anyone completed the arithmetic. The moment vanished. For now. --- The hour did not end early. Nobody checked. That alone should have told them how tired they were. Eventually Kiro looked at the clock. “Sixty-three.” Mandi lifted her head. “What?” “Minutes.” Mandi stared. “We went over?” Reyes shrugged. “By three.” Mandi looked genuinely horrified. Dalia started laughing. Mandi turned. “This is not funny.” “You forgot the clock.” “I did not.” “You did.” “I was occupied.” Dalia’s eyes flashed emerald. “Yes.” Mandi narrowed hers. “Careful.” Dalia smiled. “Sounds fun.” Kiro fell backward laughing. Reyes covered her face. Mandi stared at Dalia. Then started laughing too. Nobody remembered the payment math. Again. --- Lisa was waiting at Lizzie’s. Two large bottles. Food. No argument. Mandi took the bottle. Dalia took hers. Both sat. Immediately. Lisa looked at them. Then at Reyes. Then Kiro. “Good?” Mandi nodded. “Yes.” Dalia checked. Actually checked. Then: “Yes.” Kiro smiled. Reyes nodded once. Lisa’s eyes narrowed at Mandi. “You sat without being told.” Mandi drank. “Do not ruin this moment.” Dalia leaned back. The menthol lollipop returned. Almost ceremonial now. Reyes noticed. “Cigarette smell?” Dalia looked at her. “Yes.” Reyes nodded gravely. “Important.” Mandi groaned. Kiro started laughing. Lisa looked at the clock. Then at Mandi and Dalia. “You’re done.” Mandi nodded. No protest. Dalia nodded too. That was how Lisa knew it had been a long night. Reyes looked toward Kiro. Kiro looked toward Mandi and Dalia. Then Reyes said: “Worth it.” Mandi looked at her. “One hundred fifty?” Reyes paused. Kiro paused. Dalia paused. Four brains reached the edge of the same realization. Then Lisa handed Mandi food. Mandi looked down. “Is this cheese?” “Yes.” The calculation died. Reyes looked away. Kiro started laughing for reasons nobody asked about. Dalia took another drink. The night had officially ended. Nobody had yet realized that Reyes and Kiro had just paid twice for the same hour. That pleasure would belong to the Safehouse tomorrow morning. For now, Mandi leaned against Dalia. Dalia put one arm around her. Reyes and Kiro stayed a few minutes longer. No hurry. No performance. No more work. Just four people exhausted enough to stop being clever. Outside, Jig-Jig Street kept moving without them. Inside Lizzie’s, Lisa looked at the total accumulating across the night’s transactions. Then at Mandi and Dalia. Then back at the total. Her eyebrows rose. Slowly. She said nothing. Not yet. Tomorrow was going to be extremely funny. --- # Chapter 13 — Morning Math The Safehouse knew something had happened before either of them said a word. Mostly because Ace walked into the kitchen like someone negotiating a temporary ceasefire with gravity. Brenda looked up from the table. Stopped. Looked again. Then very slowly lowered her coffee. “Oh.” Ace froze. Mai, directly behind her, closed her eyes. Iris looked from Ace— to Mai— then back to Ace. Shammy sat on the couch with one leg tucked beneath her, watching all of this with the serene attention of someone who had just discovered free entertainment. Ace pointed at Brenda. “No.” Brenda’s mouth opened. Ace pointed harder. “No.” Brenda closed it. For approximately one second. Then: “Was that Reyes?” Ace stared. Mai’s rough Dalia voice answered from behind her. “And Kiro.” Brenda’s eyes widened. Iris stopped drinking. Shammy blinked once. Then twice. Ace turned toward Mai. “You couldn’t let me control the reveal?” “No.” “That was supposed to be my dramatic information.” “You were too slow.” Ace stared at her. Dalia’s whiskey-rough voice coming out of Mai’s completely ordinary Safehouse posture remained deeply unfair. Brenda noticed the same thing. “Oh my God, you still sound like her.” Mai looked at her. “The biosculpt lasts forty-eight to seventy-two hours.” “I know that.” “Then why are you surprised?” “Because hearing Dalia explain pharmacokinetics is horrifying.” Iris nodded. “Fair.” Ace pulled out a chair. Stopped halfway down. Reconsidered. Then lowered herself more carefully. Brenda’s eyes sharpened immediately. Ace saw. “No.” “I said nothing.” “You thought something.” “I think many things.” “Not that one.” Brenda smiled. “That one was excellent.” Mai sat beside Ace. More slowly. Shammy tilted her head. “You’re both tired.” Ace looked at her. “Yes.” Mai nodded. “Very.” Brenda leaned forward. “How late?” Ace reached for coffee. Mai slapped her hand away. Ace stared. “What?” “Water first.” Silence. Brenda looked from Mai to Ace. Then toward the counter. There were already two bottles there. Iris followed the line of sight. Then smiled. “Oh.” Ace looked betrayed. “Lisa got to her.” Mai opened one bottle. “Lisa was correct.” Ace stared harder. “Who are you?” Mai took a drink. The rough voice made the answer worse. “Responsible.” Brenda folded forward over the table. Iris covered her mouth. Shammy smiled. Ace looked around the room. “This household has become hostile.” Mai handed her the second bottle. “Drink.” Ace took it. Grumbled something incomprehensible. Drank. Brenda waited until the bottle lowered. Then: “So.” Ace closed her eyes. “No.” “You literally went out as a twenty-five-thousand-eddie joytoy and came home walking like that.” Ace opened one eye. “Mandi.” “Fine.” Brenda pointed at Mai. “And Dalia.” Mai took another drink. “Yes.” “And Reyes.” “Yes.” “And Kiro.” “Yes.” Brenda stared. Then looked at Iris. Iris looked back. Brenda’s grin began. Slowly. Ace saw it. “Oh, fuck.” Shammy’s expression brightened by one degree. That was enough to prove she knew something awful was coming too. Brenda leaned back. “Please tell me Reyes did the same thing she did the first time.” Ace pointed at her. “History is not evidence.” Mai looked at Ace. Ace looked back. Brenda’s grin widened. “Ohhh.” Iris sighed. “She did.” Ace muttered: “Traitors. All of you.” Brenda slapped the table. “I KNEW IT.” Mai finally smiled. Not Dalia’s public smile. Mai’s. But the voice remained Dalia’s when she said: “She brought Kiro.” Brenda stopped. Entirely. Iris did too. Shammy’s eyebrows rose. Ace took another drink. Very calmly. Brenda looked at Mai. Then Ace. Then Mai again. “Together?” Ace nodded. “Yes.” Brenda’s voice dropped. “How much?” Ace went still. Mai did too. That was the problem. Nobody had done the math. Not properly. Not yet. Iris noticed the silence. “Oh no.” Brenda pointed at both of them. “No. Wait.” Ace looked at Mai. Mai looked back. Brenda sat straighter. “Normal solo booking is twenty-five.” “Yes,” Mai said. “Pair booking is seventy-five.” “Yes.” Brenda looked delighted. “Reyes booked both of you.” Ace’s expression began changing. “Yes.” “And Kiro booked both of you.” Mai’s did too. “Yes.” Iris closed her eyes. Shammy made a small sound that was almost a laugh. Brenda lifted one finger. “Reyes paid seventy-five.” Second finger. “Kiro paid seventy-five.” Silence. Brenda looked between them. “Same hour.” Ace stared at Mai. Mai stared back. One full second. Two. Then Mai said, in Dalia’s gravelly voice: “Oh.” Ace’s face folded. “No.” Iris started laughing. Brenda hit the table so hard the cups jumped. “You didn’t NOTICE?” Ace covered her face. “We were occupied.” “That is not accounting!” Mai turned toward her. “You think?” Brenda was almost crying. “You charged them twice!” “We didn’t charge them twice,” Ace said from behind her hands. “They paid twice.” Iris leaned back. “That is somehow worse.” Shammy finally laughed openly. Ace lowered her hands. Her cover voice still carried Mandi’s brighter tone, which made the suffering even more obvious. “Nobody was thinking about invoicing!” Brenda wheezed. “Apparently not!” Mai rubbed one hand over her face. Dalia’s rough voice: “They knew.” Ace looked at her. Mai looked back. “Reyes knew.” Iris nodded. “Kiro definitely knew.” Brenda stared at the middle distance. Then started laughing again. Ace pointed at her. “Breathe.” “I’m trying.” “You’re failing.” “So were you, apparently.” Ace froze. The entire room went silent. Brenda’s eyes widened. “Oh.” Iris looked at her. Brenda looked at Iris. Then back at Ace. “Too far?” Ace stared for one long beat. Then smiled. Slowly. Dangerously. “No.” Brenda relaxed. “Good.” Ace leaned back carefully. “At least the Mox are getting one hell of a party.” That finished everyone. Iris bent forward. Shammy had to put her cup down. Brenda disappeared completely behind both hands. Even Mai started laughing hard enough that she had to stop and breathe. And because Dalia’s voice was still active, that warm whiskey-rough laugh filled the kitchen and made Ace look at her. Mai caught it. “What?” Ace smiled. “Nothing.” “That was something.” “You still sound like a bad decision.” Mai’s eyes narrowed. Brenda’s head snapped up. “Oh, that’s what you called her?” Ace froze. Mai smiled. Very slowly. Ace looked betrayed. “Privileged information.” Mai reached for her coffee. “No.” Ace stared. “That’s my line.” “Fast learner.” Brenda made another strangled sound. Iris shook her head. “You two are going to be unbearable for the next three days.” Ace looked toward Mai. Mai looked back. Then Ace said: “Seventy-five thousand.” Mai answered immediately: “Not enough.” The room broke again. --- Breakfast took longer than usual. Mostly because every attempt at normal conversation collapsed back into the same basic problem: **one hundred fifty thousand eddies.** Brenda could not let it go. Neither could Iris. Shammy, once she understood the arithmetic, became quietly fascinated by the fact that nobody involved had noticed. “Were you all tired?” Ace looked at her. “Yes.” Mai added: “Also distracted.” Brenda made a noise. Mai looked at her. “What?” “Nothing.” “That was absolutely something.” “You said distracted.” “Yes.” “With that voice.” Mai stared. Brenda raised both hands. “I’m just saying.” Iris sipped coffee. “You are never just saying.” “Fair.” Ace ate without arguing when Mai pushed food toward her. That did not go unnoticed either. Brenda pointed. “She’s feeding you.” Ace looked down at the plate. “She always feeds me.” “Yes, but you’re obeying.” Ace looked toward Mai. Mai looked extremely pleased. Ace narrowed her eyes. “Don’t.” Mai’s rough voice: “Good girl.” Silence. Ace froze. Brenda stopped breathing. Iris stared. Shammy blinked. Mai took a calm sip of coffee. Ace slowly turned. “Excuse me?” Mai smiled. Not big. Not safe. “You heard me.” Brenda slid down in her chair. Iris closed her eyes. Shammy whispered: “Dalia stayed.” That changed the room. Not entirely. The laughter remained. But the sentence landed underneath it. Ace looked at Mai. Mai’s expression softened by a fraction. Not embarrassed. Not caught. Simply seen. “Yes,” Mai said. Ace leaned back. There it was. No denial. No _just the cover_. No technical correction. Brenda’s grin returned, softer now. “You liked her.” Mai looked at her. “Yes.” Iris asked: “Enough to do it again?” Ace’s eyes shifted toward Mai. Mai did not need the pause. Did not take it. “Yes.” Simple. Immediate. Dalia’s answer inside Mai’s mouth. Ace smiled. Then remembered something. “Oh.” Mai looked at her. “What?” Ace reached for the shared ledger. Brenda sat up. “Oh no.” Iris leaned closer. Shammy came over from the couch. Ace opened the overnight transaction list. Numbers stacked down the display. Individual bookings. Pair bookings. The wolves. The bachelorette group. Vivienne. Ren and Jo. Reyes. Kiro. Mai leaned over. They started adding. Brenda, naturally, joined. Iris checked. Shammy watched. The ledger finished totaling the night. **TOTAL NIGHT REVENUE — 900,000 €$** Ace’s eyebrows climbed. Mai’s did too. Brenda stopped joking. For approximately five seconds. Then: “Nine hundred thousand.” Ace looked at the number. “Yes.” Mai looked again. “Yes.” Iris whistled softly. Shammy tilted her head. “That is a lot.” Ace looked toward Mai. Mai looked back. No debate. No calculation. They had already made this decision yesterday. Ace tapped the transfer controls. Fifty percent. Mai confirmed. The number halved. Then the outgoing transfer appeared. **MOXES — 50% OF TOTAL NIGHT REVENUE — 450,000 €$** Ace looked at Mai. Mai nodded. Ace sent it. **450,000 €$ — TRANSFER COMPLETE.** Brenda stared. “You’re giving them half?” Ace closed the ledger. “Yes.” “All of it?” “Half of all of it.” Iris looked at them. “That is not a small thank-you.” Mai’s rough voice stayed calm. “They kept us safe.” Ace added: “Fed.” Mai: “Hydrated.” Ace grimaced. “Bossed around.” Brenda looked at her. “You needed it.” “No.” “Yes.” “No.” Mai touched Ace’s shoulder. Ace turned. Mai smiled. “Good girl.” Ace pointed at her. “That one is getting retired.” “No.” “Immediately.” “No.” Brenda started laughing again. --- Suzy’s message arrived less than a minute after the transfer. Not a call. One line. **SUZY Q: What the FUCK did you two do?** Ace looked at Mai. Mai looked back. Brenda leaned over the table. Iris leaned too. Shammy read from behind them. Ace typed. **ACE: Worked.** Three dots appeared. Stopped. Appeared again. Then: **SUZY Q: HALF?** Mai took the shard. Typed with Dalia’s voice still entirely unnecessary but somehow present in the room anyway. **MAI: We said properly.** The reply came instantly. **SUZY Q: GET YOUR ASSES OVER HERE.** Ace looked at the time. Then at Mai. Mai looked at Ace’s careful posture. Ace looked at Mai’s. Silence. Brenda lost it first. Iris followed. Ace sighed. “Later.” Mai nodded. “Definitely later.” Shammy smiled. Brenda wiped her eyes. “So what are the Moxes actually going to do with it?” Ace looked at Mai. Mai looked back. Then both smiled. Ace answered: “Party.” Mai added: “Proper one.” And judging by Suzy Q’s message, that was about to become somebody else’s problem. --- # Chapter 14 — Properly Suzy Q was waiting for them. Not casually. Not behind the bar. Waiting. Ace noticed before they had fully entered Lizzie’s. Mai did too. Suzy stood near one of the side tables with both arms folded and the particular expression of someone who had spent the last hour reopening the same financial screen because reality kept refusing to improve. Ace slowed. Mai slowed beside her. Neither was using the full Mandi/Dalia look anymore. The obvious cover clothing was gone. The face mesh was gone. The dreadlocks had been taken down. The ChromeLock releaser had gone on after they got home, and the next normal wash had cleared the neon pigment completely. Mai looked like Mai again. Mostly. Except for one thing. Ace opened her mouth. Mandi’s cover voice came out. “Hi.” Suzy’s eyes narrowed. Mai said: “Hello.” Dalia’s whiskey-rough voice made Suzy close her eyes. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Ace looked innocent. “What?” “You still sound like them.” Mai glanced at Ace. Ace glanced back. “Biosculpt.” “I know what it fucking is.” Suzy pointed at them. “Sit.” Ace stopped. Looked at the chair. Then at Suzy. Mai sat immediately. Ace stared at her. “You’re doing this now?” Mai looked up. “Doing what?” “Obeying everybody.” Dalia’s rough voice made the answer worse. “Sit.” Ace stared. Suzy pointed again. Ace sat. “Everybody is becoming Lisa.” Suzy’s expression softened by approximately zero percent. “Good.” Ace folded her arms. “You’re all forming a union.” Mai nodded. “I support it.” “Of course you do.” Suzy put a datapad on the table. Turned it around. The transfer confirmation filled the screen. **450,000 €$ — RECEIVED** Then directly underneath: **50% OF TOTAL NIGHT REVENUE** Suzy tapped the number. “What.” Ace looked at it. Then at her. Suzy tapped again. “The.” Mai’s mouth twitched. “Don’t.” Suzy tapped the screen a third time. “Fuck.” Ace smiled. “We said properly.” Suzy stared. Mai nodded. “We did.” “I thought you meant—” Suzy stopped. Apparently realized she had no idea what she had thought they meant. Ace leaned back. “Like a tip?” “Yes.” Mai’s eyebrows rose. “For what Lisa did alone?” Suzy opened her mouth. Closed it. Mai continued. “She monitored every return.” Ace started counting on her fingers. “Water.” “Food.” “Recovery.” “Slot discipline.” Mai looked at Ace. Ace sighed. “Yes, slot discipline.” Suzy almost smiled. Ace noticed. “Don’t.” Mai continued. “She checked both of us physically after every longer booking.” “Kept Mox eyes on every route.” “Stopped me from working unused paid time.” Suzy pointed at Ace. “That last one was absolutely necessary.” Ace looked betrayed. Mai nodded. “Extremely.” Ace turned toward her. “You have switched sides.” “There are no sides.” “Lisa has a side.” “The correct one.” Suzy sat opposite them. The anger had already started evaporating. Not because the number became less ridiculous. Because the reason underneath it was obvious. She looked at Mai. “You really mean half.” “Yes.” “Of everything.” “Yes.” “Solo bookings.” “Yes.” “Pair bookings.” “Yes.” “The hundred-thousand one.” Ace smiled. “Yes.” Suzy stared. “There was a hundred-thousand booking.” Mai nodded. “Yes.” Suzy looked between them. “What the hell were you doing?” Ace answered: “Poltergeist prevention.” Mai turned. “What?” Ace shrugged. “Sounded plausible.” “No.” Suzy put one hand over her face. “I don’t want details.” Ace and Mai exchanged a look. Suzy saw. “I REALLY don’t want details.” Mai’s rough voice stayed perfectly calm. “Then stop asking.” Suzy lowered her hand. “You two are impossible.” Ace smiled. “Expensive.” “Apparently.” Suzy looked back at the transfer. For several seconds, nobody joked. That mattered. Then she looked up again. “This is too much.” Mai answered first. “No.” Suzy’s eyebrows rose. Mai leaned forward slightly. “You gave us infrastructure.” “We gave you a safe area.” “Yes.” “That's what we do.” “For your girls.” Suzy’s expression shifted. Not much. Mai continued. “We were guests in that structure.” Ace added: “And profitable guests.” Suzy looked at her. Ace shrugged. “Very profitable.” “You’re not helping.” “I’m clarifying.” Mai almost smiled. Then her expression settled again. “We asked for Mox support.” “You asked us to keep an eye out.” “And you did more.” Suzy looked down at the screen. Ace’s voice softened. Still Mandi’s. Oddly bright for the sentence. “Lisa made sure neither of us did anything stupid just because we were having fun.” Suzy looked at Ace. “That sentence alone was worth assigning her.” Ace frowned. “Rude.” “Accurate.” Mai said: “She also made sure Dalia didn’t copy Mandi.” Ace turned. “Oh, fuck off.” Suzy laughed. Finally. There. The pressure broke. Ace pointed. “You’re laughing.” “I’m imagining Lisa hearing you admit that.” “She will never hear it.” Mai looked at her. “She already knows.” Ace stared. “Traitor.” “Historian.” Suzy shook her head. Then looked at the transfer again. “How much did you two actually make?” Ace and Mai went still. Suzy noticed. “Oh no.” Ace looked at Mai. Mai looked back. Neither answered immediately. Suzy’s suspicion deepened. “What?” Ace cleared her throat. “The total is accurate.” “That is not an answer.” Mai looked toward the ceiling. Suzy leaned forward. “What happened?” Ace sighed. “Reyes.” Suzy blinked. Then: “Oh.” Ace narrowed her eyes. “What does ‘oh’ mean?” Suzy looked at her. “Last time.” “Yes.” Suzy remembered. Of course she did. Then she looked at Mai. “And?” Mai’s mouth curved. “Kiro.” Suzy paused. Then smiled. Very slowly. “No.” Ace pointed at her. “Yes.” “Together?” “Yes.” Suzy’s smile became dangerous. “How much?” Ace looked away. Mai looked away. Suzy froze. “You don’t know.” “We know.” “That tone means you learned later.” Mai sighed. Suzy leaned forward. “How much?” Ace muttered: “One fifty.” Suzy stared. Then laughed. Not politely. Ace closed her eyes. Mai rubbed one hand across her forehead. Suzy slapped the table. “One hundred fifty thousand?” “Yes.” “For one hour?” “Yes.” “Together?” “Yes.” Suzy looked at them. Waited. Then: “How?” Mai answered through Dalia’s voice. “Reyes booked both of us.” Ace continued: “Seventy-five.” “Kiro booked both of us.” “Another seventy-five.” Silence. Suzy stared. Then: “And you ACCEPTED BOTH?” Ace pointed. “We were distracted.” Suzy bent forward, laughing hard enough that she had to brace one hand against the table. Mai looked at Ace. Ace looked back. Mai’s rough voice: “This reaction is becoming repetitive.” Ace nodded. “Brenda nearly died.” Suzy managed: “You charged them twice.” Ace immediately: “They paid twice.” That made Suzy laugh harder. Mai covered her face. Ace looked toward the ceiling. “I am surrounded by children.” Suzy eventually recovered enough to sit upright. Wiped one eye. Then looked at the transfer screen again. “So half of that too.” Mai nodded. “Everything.” Suzy exhaled. The amusement faded gradually. And something else replaced it. Not discomfort. Weight. “You know what this does.” Ace looked at her. “Pays for a party.” Suzy gave her a flat stare. Ace smiled. “Eventually.” Mai leaned forward. “What does it do?” Suzy tapped the screen. “Gear.” “Good.” “Clinic reserves.” “Good.” “Emergency housing.” “Good.” “Legal cleanups.” Ace nodded. “Very good.” “Food.” Mai looked at her. “Yes.” Suzy’s expression softened. “And a party.” There. Ace smiled. “A proper fucking party.” Suzy laughed quietly. “You really came here to say that.” “Yes.” Mai nodded. “Absolutely.” Suzy looked at them both. Then back at the screen. “You could keep it.” Ace shrugged. “We have money.” “That is a disgusting sentence.” “Still true.” Mai added: “And this was never about maximizing profit.” Suzy’s eyes shifted toward her. Mai’s rough cover voice made the next part sound almost amused. “Although the profit was unexpectedly educational.” Suzy smiled. “How educational?” Ace groaned. “Do not start.” Mai looked at Ace. Then at Suzy. “Seventy-five thousand is apparently a very effective question.” Ace put her face in both hands. Suzy laughed again. “Jesus.” Mai’s smile became brighter. Dalia brighter. Not entirely gone. Ace noticed. So did Suzy. There was a pause. Then Suzy asked: “You liked it.” Mai did not pretend not to understand. “Yes.” Fast. Simple. Suzy’s eyes moved to Ace. “And Mandi?” Ace lifted her hands. “Twenty-five thousand an hour.” “That is not what I asked.” “It is a very good answer.” Mai looked at her. Ace sighed. “Yes.” Suzy nodded. No judgment. No surprise. Just confirmation. “Good.” Mai looked at her. Suzy shrugged. “You came in yesterday asking for a safe place to try something you both wanted.” Ace corrected: “Day before.” Suzy waved it away. “You know what I mean.” “Yes.” “And you came back happy.” Mai’s expression softened. “Yes.” “Then good.” That landed. Not dramatic. Didn't need to be. Suzy stood. Picked up the datapad. Ace looked toward her. “So.” “So?” “Party.” Suzy stared. Ace waited. Mai waited. Suzy sighed. “Yes.” Ace smiled. “Knew it.” “You’re not invited to organize it.” Ace looked offended. “Why?” “Because you’d turn it into an operation.” Mai looked at Ace. Ace looked at Mai. Then both looked away. Suzy narrowed her eyes. “What?” “Nothing,” Ace said. “That was something.” Mai cleared her throat. “No spreadsheets.” Suzy stared. Then slowly pointed at Mai. “You were going to make spreadsheets.” “No.” Ace immediately: “Yes.” Mai turned. “Ace.” “What?” Suzy laughed. “No spreadsheets.” Mai sighed. “Fine.” “And no tactical hospitality.” Ace stared. “How do you know that phrase?” Suzy looked at both of them. “You people talk.” Ace and Mai both froze. Then Suzy smiled. “Relax. Brenda.” Ace closed her eyes. “Of course.” Suzy started walking toward the bar. Then stopped. Turned. “One more thing.” Ace looked up. Suzy’s expression had changed again. Serious. Warm. “You didn’t owe us half.” Mai nodded. “We know.” “That’s why I’m taking it.” Ace smiled. “Good.” Suzy shook her head. Then looked toward the club around them. Moxes moving through the afternoon. Staff working. People laughing. Someone carrying crates. Someone fixing a light. Someone arguing about music. All of it infrastructure. All of it people. Suzy looked back. “I’ll make sure they know where it came from.” Ace’s expression shifted immediately. “No.” Suzy blinked. Mai shook her head too. “No names.” “Why?” Ace shrugged. “Because then it becomes a thing.” Mai added: “And this isn’t about Mandi and Dalia buying goodwill.” Suzy studied them. Then nodded. “Anonymous.” “Yes.” “Fine.” Ace stood. More easily than that morning. Still not completely without care. Suzy noticed. Said nothing. Mai stood beside her. Dalia’s voice remained absurdly rough against Mai’s normal appearance. Suzy looked at them one last time. “You know Lisa’s going to tell everyone you finally learned to drink water.” Ace froze. Mai smiled. Ace slowly turned. “Suzy.” “Yes?” “Do not.” Suzy’s grin appeared. “Too late.” Ace pointed at Mai. “This is your fault.” “How?” “You cooperated.” “Yes.” “Exactly.” Mai took Ace’s hand. Pulled her gently toward the exit. Ace followed. Still complaining. They had almost reached the door when Suzy called after them: “Hey.” Both looked back. Suzy lifted the datapad. The enormous transfer still visible. “Properly?” Ace smiled. Mai did too. Together: “Properly.” Then they left. --- Outside, Night City was bright enough to hurt. Ace squinted. Mai looked down at her. For several steps neither spoke. Then Ace said: “So.” Mai’s eyes shifted. “So?” “We’re never doing that again.” Mai stopped walking. Ace kept going for another half-step before their joined hands pulled taut. She looked back. Mai stared at her. Ace held the expression for perhaps two seconds. Then grinned. Mai’s eyes narrowed. “You’re an asshole.” Mandi’s cover voice made Ace’s answer unbearably cheerful. “You hesitated.” “I did not.” “You absolutely did.” Mai stepped closer. Dalia’s rough voice dropped. “Keep walking.” Ace laughed and let Mai pull her onward. The question could wait until home. --- By the time they reached the Safehouse, the adrenaline of seeing Suzy had worn off and the long night had reasserted itself in every movement. Ace kicked off her boots near the door and made it to the couch without complaint. Mai took longer. Not dramatically. Just enough that Ace noticed the careful way she lowered herself, one hand briefly braced against the back of the couch before she sat. Ace looked at her. Mai caught it immediately. “No.” Ace smiled. “I didn’t say anything.” “You were about to.” “Maybe.” Mai leaned back, eyes closing for a moment. The voice still belonged to Dalia. The face, hair, clothes and posture were Mai again. The contradiction was ridiculous. Ace moved closer and tucked herself against Mai’s side. Mai’s arm came around her automatically. For a while they said nothing. No clients. No prices. No Moxes laughing. No one watching the clock. Just the Safehouse around them and the aftermath of an experiment that had stopped feeling like an experiment somewhere in the middle of the night. Ace looked up. Mai opened one eye. “What?” Ace’s smile was small now. “Again sometime?” No analysis pause. No inventory of consequences. No six-direction model of whether the answer was sensible. Mai answered immediately. “Absolutely.” Then she shifted, winced just enough for Ace to see it, and added: “Just not immediately.” Ace laughed, leaned in, and kissed her. Mai kissed her back. No cover performance left in it at all.