Space and I walked into that Airbnb expecting a quiet weekend with the guys - maybe some beers and poker. What we got was Willow standing in the living room with her two friends, all of us realizing some ******* booking agent had screwed us both over. Tempers flared for about sixty seconds before Willow laughed - that low, hungry sound that changed everything. "**** it," she said, tossing her hair back. "I'm celebrating my divorce. Who wants to help me make it memorable?" Willow led the charge to the bedroom. No hesitation. No small talk. Just bodies finding each other in the sudden heat of that cramped space. Positions blurred after that. Tessa rode my face while Delphi stroked Space. Willow wanted to watch everything, directing traffic with her divorced woman's authority, occasionally pulling someone new between her thighs. The energy never dipped. No awkward pauses, no performance anxiety. Just strangers who'd stumbled into something electric and refused to waste it. When I finally pushed deep into Willow and felt her clench around me, Delphi was there whispering filthy encouragement in my ear. I knew this double-booking disaster had become the best weekend of my year. Everyone crashed together afterward. Limbs tangled. No one talked about who got the couch
