The door to Greg's massage suite opened with a sound that barely registered against the ambient music filling the room. He lay face-down on the heated table, his boxers clinging to his hips.

"Good afternoon, Greg."

The voice was warm, rich, and unexpectedly close. He hadn't heard her arrival or approach. Greg turned his head in the face cradle to see a woman standing beside the table, and his breath caught in his throat. She was stunning: Asian, perhaps in her early thirties, with long black hair pulled back in a ponytail. But it was her body that commanded attention. She wore the same white button-down shirt that Elara had worn, but where Elara's had been modest, this woman's shirt strained against breasts that seemed impossibly large and perfectly shaped, the top buttons threatening to surrender to the pressure of her ample cleavage.

"I'm Linny," she said, her voice dropping to a register that seemed to vibrate in Greg's chest. "I'll be taking care of you today. Elara mentioned you wanted some more of our lemon essence?"

Greg tried to speak, but his tongue felt thick, sluggish. He managed a nod.

"Excellent," Linny purred. She moved to a small table where as she moved, and Greg found himself unable to look away from the way they pressed against her shirt, the hint of lace visible through the thin white fabric.

She returned to his side and held the glass to his lips. "Drink," she commanded softly, and Greg obeyed without thought.

The lemon essence was sharper than before, cutting through the fog in his mind even as it seemed to deepen it in other ways. He felt alert and drowsy simultaneously, a paradox that should have concerned him but instead felt perfectly natural. As he swallowed, Linny's free hand came to rest on his shoulder, her fingers warm and impossibly soft.

"That's good," she whispered. "Just let the warmth spread through you. Let your muscles soften. Let your thoughts slow down. There's nothing you need to do right now, Greg. Nothing you need to think about. Just feel my hands and listen to my voice."

Her hand began to move in slow, rhythmic circles on his shoulder, and Greg felt his tension melting away like ice in summer sun. The music seemed to swell, harmonizing with her voice, and he realized with a distant part of his mind that she was speaking in rhythm with the melody, her words falling into the spaces between notes like they belonged there.

"I'm going to begin your massage now," Linny said, setting the empty glass aside. "But first, let's get you more comfortable. These boxers are restricting your circulation, aren't they? You can feel them tight against your hips, can't you?"

Greg hadn't noticed it before, but now that she mentioned it, he could feel the elastic band digging into his waist, the fabric constraining his half-hard cock. It was uncomfortable, he realized. And Elara had told him to undress to his comfort, after all.

"Lift your hips for me," Linny instructed, and again, Greg obeyed without hesitation.

She slid the boxers down his legs with practiced efficiency. He was fully naked now, exposed and vulnerable on the table, but the thought didn't bring anxiety or shame. Linny folded his underwear neatly and set them aside, then poured warm oil into her palms.

"Close your eyes, Greg," she commanded, her voice dropping even lower, becoming something almost like a purr. "Close your eyes and feel. Focus only on the sensation of my hands on your body. Let everything else fade away."

Greg's eyelids fluttered shut. The darkness behind them was warm and welcoming, and as Linny's oiled hands made contact with his back, he felt himself sinking into a state of profound relaxation. Her touch was exquisite: firm where it needed to be, soft where it comforted, finding knots of tension he hadn't known he carried and coaxing them to release.

"That's it," Linny murmured, her voice seeming to come from everywhere at once. "Just let go. Let your mind empty. Feel how good it is to simply receive, to simply feel. No thoughts. No worries. No responsibilities. Just my hands and your body and the music."

She worked her way down his back with agonizing slowness, each stroke seeming to last an eternity. The oil was strangely warm, scented with something herbal and musky that filled Greg's lungs with every breath. He felt his consciousness drifting, not away, but somehow deeper. It was unlike anything he'd ever felt before.

"You're doing so well," she praised. "Your body is so responsive. So eager to relax. So eager to please. That's what bodies are for, Greg. To feel pleasure. To give pleasure."

Her hands moved lower, kneading the muscles of his lower back, then sliding over the curve of his ass. Greg tensed for a moment, but Linny's voice was there to tell him everything was okay.

"Shhh," she whispered. "No tension. No resistance. Just acceptance. This is a place of total acceptance, Greg. Whatever feels good is good here. Whatever brings pleasure is welcome here. Let go of your inhibitions. Let go of your rules. They don't serve you here."

Her hands continued their exploration, sliding down his thighs, his calves, his feet, then working their way back up. When she reached his upper thighs, her fingers brushed against the sensitive skin of his inner thighs, and Greg gasped softly. He was fully erect now, his cock pressed hidden against the heated surface of the table, throbbing with need.

She worked his thighs for long minutes, her fingers coming closer and closer to his groin with each pass, teasing, promising, never quite delivering. Greg found himself arching his hips slightly, unconsciously seeking her touch, and Linny laughed.

"Eager. I like that."

But then she moved to his shoulders again, denying him what his body so wanted. By the time she finished, Greg felt like he was floating, his body both heavy and weightless, his mind a warm blank canvas waiting to be written upon.

"Now," Linny said. "Roll over for me, Greg. I want to work on your front."

Greg moved as if in a dream, his body responding to her command before his mind could formulate the thought. He rolled onto his back, and the cool air of the room washed over his naked skin, making him aware of his arousal in a new way. His cock sprang upright, thick and hard and aching, bobbing slightly with his heartbeat.

"Beautiful," she said simply, and the word seemed to wrap around his arousal like a warm hand. "Your body is so honest, Greg. That's perfect. That's exactly how you should be here."

She began to work on his chest, her fingers finding his nipples and circling them until he was gasping. The sensation was electric, shooting straight to his groin, making his cock twitch and leak pre-cum onto his stomach.

"Focus on my hands," Linny instructed, her voice dropping into a rhythmic pattern that matched the music's pulse. "Focus on the warmth. Focus on the pleasure. Let your eyes drift to my chest, as I touch yours. Look at my breasts. So soft. So inviting. You want to touch them, don't you? You want to feel them against your skin. Don't you, Greg?"

Greg's eyes had indeed drifted to her cleavage, and now he couldn't look away. The buttons of her shirt had somehow come undone. He hadn't noticed when.

"Yes," he breathed.

"Focus on my tits, Greg. Let your mind focus there. Let everything else fade away. Just my tits and my voice. My tits and my voice. Nothing else matters. Nothing else exists. Watch them move. Watch them sway. Back and forth. Back and forth."

She was moving now, swaying slightly, and her breasts moved with her, hypnotic pendulums that seemed to draw Greg's consciousness with them. He stared, transfixed, his mouth slightly open, his breathing slowing to match the rhythm of her movement.

"That's it," she whispered. "Deeper and deeper. Focus on my tits and relax. Focus on my tits and let go. The more you focus, the deeper you go. The deeper you go, the better you feel. The better you feel, the more you want to focus. It's a loop, Greg. A delicious, endless loop of pleasure and trance and surrender."

She straightened up and began to unbutton her shirt the rest of the way, slowly, deliberately, letting Greg watch each button release, each inch of skin revealed. When she shrugged the shirt off her shoulders, he saw that her bra was sheer lace, her dark nipples visible through the fabric, hard and prominent.

"Do you want to see them?" she asked, her voice a velvet purr. "Do you want to see my big, soft tits, Greg? Do you want to feel them?"

"Please," Greg whispered, and he didn't recognize his own voice anymore. It was so thick with need.

Linny reached behind her and unclasped her bra. She let it fall away, and her breasts spilled free.

She leaned forward, cradling her breasts in her hands, and brought them together around his throbbing cock.

"Look at my tits," she commanded, her voice dropping to a whisper that seemed to bypass his ears and speak directly to his mind. "Look at how they wrap around your cock. Feel how soft they are. How warm. How perfect. This is where you belong, Greg. Between my tits. Lost in my tits. Focus on the pleasure. Let your mind go blank. Let your thoughts dissolve. Just feel. Just surrender. Just obey."

She began to move, sliding her breasts up and down his shaft, the oil from her hands and his own pre-cum creating a perfect slickness. Greg's head fell back, his eyes rolling upward, his mouth open in a silent moan. The pleasure was overwhelming, consuming, erasing everything else from his consciousness.

"Focus and obey. The deeper you go, the better it feels. The better it feels, the deeper you go. Round and round. Deeper and deeper. Lost in my tits. Lost in trance. Lost in pleasure. Focus on my tits, Greg. Focus on my tits and cum. Cum for me. Cum deep in my cleavage. Let it all go. Empty your mind. Empty your balls. Cum for me. Cum now. Cum now!"

The command hit him like a physical force, and Greg's body obeyed instantly. His hips bucked upward, his cock throbbing between her soft breasts, and he erupted with a force that made his vision white out. Spurt after spurt of hot cum shot from his cock, coating her cleavage, her breasts, her chin, and Linny continued to move, milking him, draining him, until he was empty and spent and utterly, completely helpless.

"Good boy," she praised, her voice soft and warm and devastatingly powerful. "Such a good boy. So deep now. So empty. So open. So ready to listen. So ready to obey."

Greg lay there, twitching slightly, his mind a warm blank void. He couldn't think. He couldn't move. He could only feel the aftershocks of his orgasm and the heavy, soporific weight of trance that had settled over him like a blanket.

Linny climbed off him and retrieved a warm towel, cleaning herself and then him with gentle, efficient movements. But her voice never stopped, never gave him a moment to surface from his dazed state.

"You're feeling so good now, Greg," she murmured. "So relaxed. So peaceful. So open to suggestion. And I have some suggestions for you. Some truths that will make your stay here even more wonderful. Are you ready to hear them?"

"Yes," Greg whispered, his voice barely audible.

"Good. Listen carefully. The True Tide Resort is a special place, Greg. A magical place. Here, you can be free. Here, you can let go of all your inhibitions, all your rules, all your restrictions. The person you are out there doesn't exist in here. Here, you can experiment. Here, you can explore. Here, you can experience anything and everything that brings you pleasure."

She leaned close to his ear, her breath warm against his skin, her voice dropping to a whisper that seemed to etch itself directly into his subconscious.

"Nothing that happens at True Tide counts as cheating, Greg. Do you understand? Nothing. You are free here. Free to fuck whoever you want. Free to suck whoever you want. Free to be used and to use others. There is no guilt here. No shame. Only pleasure. Only surrender. Only obedience to your desires."

Greg nodded slowly, the words sinking into his mind like stones into deep water, disappearing beneath the surface but leaving ripples that would never fade.

"You should be open to all experiences here, Greg," Linny continued. "Open to the staff. Open to the other guests. Open to whatever pleasures present themselves. Your body wants this. Your mind wants this. You want to surrender. You want to obey. You want to be a good boy who accepts all the pleasure he's offered. Say it, Greg. Say you understand."

"I understand," Greg repeated, and the words felt true, felt right, felt inevitable.

"Say you agree."

"I agree," Greg whispered, and somewhere deep inside him, a door opened that would never close again.

"Good boy," Linny purred, and Greg felt a rush of pleasure at the praise that was completely disproportionate to the words themselves. "Go through the far door and wait for your wife. I'm sure she'll be along shortly."

"Yes, Linny," Greg said dreamily as she left the room.

In the room next door, Dina lay naked on her own table, her skin flushed and sensitive, her nipples hard against the sheet beneath her. She could hear the music here too, louder than before. The mango nectar she'd drunk earlier seemed to have settled into her bloodstream, warming her from the inside, making her skin feel too tight, her nerves too exposed, her pussy aching with a need that wouldn't be denied.

The door opened, and Dina turned her head to see a man enter. He was tall, broad-shouldered, with dark hair and a smile that managed to be both professional and intensely sexual. He wore the same white shirt as the other staff, but his was unbuttoned at the collar.

"Good afternoon, Dina," he said, his voice a rich baritone that seemed to resonate in her chest. "I'm Philip. I'll be your therapist today."

"Hi," Dina managed, and her voice sounded breathy, needy, even to her own ears.

"I see you've already undressed to your comfort level," he observed, his eyes running over her naked back with obvious appreciation. "That's perfect. That's exactly how you should be here. Completely comfortable. Completely open. Completely receptive."

He poured oil into his hands and began to work on her shoulders, and Dina immediately melted into the table.

"Your body is carrying so much stress," Philip observed, his hands moving down her back in long, firm strokes. "So much tension. So much restraint. But you don't need to be restrained here, Dina. Here, you can be free. Here, you can let go. Here, you can be the woman your body wants you to be, not the woman your rules say you should be."

Dina moaned softly, the words resonating with something deep inside her. The mango nectar seemed to pulse in her veins with each beat of her heart, making her hyperaware of every sensation.

The warmth of the table, the slickness of the oil, the pressure of Philip's strong hands, the way her nipples rubbed against the sheet with each movement.

Philip worked lower, kneading the muscles of her lower back, then sliding over her ass with a familiarity that should have shocked her but instead felt inevitable. His fingers dipped between her thighs, not quite touching where she ached, but close enough to make her breath catch.

"Sensitive," Philip noted, and there was satisfaction in his voice. "Responsive. That's the mango nectar working in you, Dina. Enhancing your responses. Heightening your sensations. Making your body yearn to be touched and satisfied. It's a wonderful thing, isn't it? To feel this alive? This hungry? This free?"

"Yes," Dina breathed, sliding her legs a little more open, unconsciously presenting herself to his touch. "Its wonderful."

He worked her legs next, starting at her feet and moving upward with agonizing slowness. When he reached her thighs again, his fingers brushed against the sensitive skin of her inner thighs, and Dina spread her legs wider without conscious thought, inviting him closer, begging for touch without words.

Philip didn't disappoint. His fingers moved higher, tracing the edges of her pussy lips, spreading the oil over her heated flesh. Dina gasped, her hips bucking slightly, seeking more contact.

"Wet," Philip observed, his voice dropping lower, becoming something that vibrated in her core. "So wet. So ready. Your body is speaking very clearly, Dina. It's saying it needs to be touched. It needs to be filled. It needs to be used. Is that what it's saying?"

"Yes," Dina whimpered, her face flushed, her eyes closed, her mind a haze of need and music and warmth. "Use me."

It sounded like a request, but it was a plea. Desperate and aching.

"Then roll over," Philip commanded. "Let me see the body I'm speaking with."

Dina obeyed instantly, rolling onto her back, completely exposed and vulnerable and beyond caring. Philip's eyes roamed over her naked body with frank appreciation, lingering on her breasts, her hard nipples, the glistening wetness between her spread thighs.

"Exquisite," he murmured, and the word felt like a caress. "Perfect breasts. Perfect nipples. So sensitive, aren't they?"

Her hands moved to her chest, and Dina moaned as her fingers found her nipples, pinching and rolling them with just the right amount of pressure. The sensation shot straight to her pussy, making her clench on emptiness, making her ache for more.

"Sensitive indeed," Philip said, his voice taking on a hypnotic quality that matched the music's rhythm. "And you... So eager to obey."

"Please," she whimpered, not knowing what she was begging for, only knowing that she needed more, needed something, needed to be filled.

"Please what?" Philip asked, his voice teasing, commanding. "Tell me what you need, Dina. Use your words. Be explicit. Be honest. Your body knows what it wants. Let your mouth say it."

"I need..." Dina struggled, her mind foggy with lust and trance and the overwhelming music. "I need to be touched. I need... I need cock. I need..."

She opened her eyes, desperate and hungry, and her gaze locked onto the bulge in Philip's shorts. Without conscious thought, Dina reached for his waistband. Philip didn't stop her. He simply watched with dark, knowing eyes as she pulled his shorts down, freeing his cock. It sprang up, thick and hard and perfect, and Dina whimpered at the sight.

"So big," she whispered, and then she leaned forward and took him into her mouth.

The taste was intoxicating. Dina moaned around his shaft, her eyes rolling back, her hands coming up to grip his hips. She sucked him eagerly, desperately, bobbing her head up and down, taking him as deep as she could, craving the fullness, the submission, the sheer filthy pleasure of having a strange man's cock in her mouth while her husband lay in the next room.

Her hands found her breasts again, groping them roughly as she sucked him, pinching her nipples. The rough treatment only made her wetter, needier, more desperate. Philip held the hair on either side of her face, guiding her body as he guided her mind.

"That's it," Philip groaned, his voice thick with pleasure. "Suck my cock, Dina. Suck it like a good little slut. You need this, don't you? You need to be used. You need to be filled. You need to submit to your body's needs."

Dina moaned her agreement around his shaft, the vibrations making him twitch in her mouth. She could taste his pre-cum now, leaking onto her tongue, and she swallowed eagerly, wanting more, wanting everything, wanting to be completely consumed by this moment.

"I'm going to cum," Philip warned, his voice strained. "I'm going to cum down your throat, Dina, and you're going to swallow every drop like a good girl. You're going to take it all. Say yes."

Dina couldn't speak with her mouth full, but she moaned her agreement. And then Philip was groaning, his cock pulsing, hot spurts of cum flooding her mouth and throat. Dina swallowed eagerly, desperately, taking every drop, letting him fill her, letting him mark her, letting him claim her in this most intimate way.

When he finally pulled back, his cock softening slightly, Dina felt empty and desperate and more aroused than she'd ever been in her life. She looked up at him with wide, needy eyes, her hand drifting down to her own pussy, fingers finding her clit and circling desperately.

"I just..." she panted, reality beginning to surface through the mango-flavored haze. "I just cheated on my husband. I just... oh god, I just sucked a stranger's cock. I'm a cheater. I'm a slut. I'm..."

Philip placed a finger on her lips and she went silent instantly, her eyes snapping to his. He reached for a glass on the side table that Dina hadn't noticed before. It was filled with more mango nectar, golden and shimmering. "You're not a cheater, Dina. You're not a bad wife. You're just a woman listening to her body. And your body has needs. Needs that should be honored. Needs that should be met. There is no cheating here."

He held the glass to her lips, and Dina drank automatically, the sweet, complex flavor flooding her mouth and throat, washing away the taste of his cum and replacing it with warmth and need and surrender.

"Your body needs to fuck," Philip continued, his hands groping and fondling her breasts as he spoke. "Your body needs to suck. Your body needs pleasure. And True Tide is a place where you can give your body what it needs without guilt, without shame, without consequences. This isn't cheating, Dina. This is wellness. This is healing. This is what your body requires."

Dina swallowed the last of the nectar, and she felt the warmth spreading through her again, the guilt dissolving, the need returning stronger than before. Her fingers resumed working her clit, and she couldn't stop, couldn't think, could only feel and obey.

"You should obey your body. Let your body guide you. Say you agree."

"I agree," Dina moaned, her fingers moving faster, her hips bucking. "I'll listen to my body. I'll obey my body. I'll obey..."

"Good girl," Philip praised, and Dina felt herself tipping over the edge, her orgasm crashing through her with a force that made her scream, her pussy clenching on emptiness, her body convulsing with pleasure.

She lay there for long moments, twitching and gasping, her mind a warm blank void, her body utterly spent and yet still hungry, still ready, still eager for more.

"I believe your husband should be waiting for you just through there," Philip said, pointing to a door on the far side of the room. "Go and experience everything."

"Everything..."

Greg found himself standing in a corridor he didn't recognize, wearing a soft robe that had been provided for him. His body felt amazing: relaxed yet energized, satisfied yet somehow still hungry. The memories of his massage were hazy, dreamlike, but the feelings remained: the openness, the acceptance, the absolute certainty that True Tide was a place where he could be free.

He turned and saw Dina emerging from a door further down the hall. She wore a matching robe, her hair slightly disheveled, her face flushed, her eyes bright with a hunger that matched his own. They looked at each other, and something passed between them.

An understanding, a permission, a shared surrender to the resort's influence.

"Dina," Greg said, and his voice was thick with need.

"Greg," she breathed, and then they were moving toward each other, drawn together by forces stronger than conscious thought.

They met in the middle of the corridor, and their mouths crashed together. Greg's hands found the tie of her robe and pulled it open, and Dina did the same to him, and then they were pressed together, naked skin to naked skin, in the semi-public hallway where anyone might see.

"The relaxation room," Dina gasped between kisses. "Elara said... the relaxation room..."

"Now," Greg growled, and he lifted her, carrying her down the corridor as she wrapped her legs around his waist, her wet pussy grinding against his stomach.

They found the relaxation room; the same one Elara had shown them earlier, with the heated chairs and the pulsing lights and the music that was suddenly, noticeably louder. The door closed behind them, but the room wasn't empty. Other guests reclined in chairs, their eyes closed, their faces relaxed. No one looked up as they entered and they didn't take time to survey the room.

Greg didn't care. Dina didn't care. They needed each other, needed this, needed to fuck with an urgency that transcended social norms or personal inhibitions.

Greg carried Dina to the nearest chair and sat down, pulling her on top of him. Dina didn't hesitate. She reached between them, found his hard cock, and impaled herself on it with a single, desperate movement.

They cried out together, the word echoing in the dim room.

Dina began to move immediately, bouncing up and down on Greg's cock, her breasts bouncing, her head thrown back, her eyes closed in ecstasy. Greg gripped her hips, thrusting up into her, meeting her movements with his own, the sound of their bodies slapping together filling the room.

"Yes," Dina moaned. "Yes, fuck me, Greg. Fuck me hard. I need this. I need you. I need cock. I need to be filled. I need to be used. Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me..."

She babbled incoherently with need, but each plea for more came a little slower and a little softer. The music was louder here, much louder, and as they fucked Greg began to slow his rhythm to match the beat.

He tried to focus on Dina, on the pleasure, on the fucking, but his eyes kept drifting to the lights on the ceiling, the pulsing blue and green patterns that seemed to sync perfectly with the music, with his heartbeat, with the rhythm of their movements.

"Greg," Dina gasped, but her voice sounded distant, dreamy.

"Don't stop," Greg managed, but his own voice was sluggish. "Don't stop fucking. Need to cum. Need to... need to..."

His movements were slowing, his thrusts becoming weaker, his muscles feeling heavy and unresponsive. Dina was slowing too, her bouncing becoming less energetic, her moans becoming softer, her eyes becoming glazed and unfocused.

They were still joined when they came to a stop, Greg's hard cock buried deep inside Dina's pussy. They sat frozen, locked in position, their eyes fixed on the pulsing lights, their minds sinking deeper with each beat of the hypnotic melody.

"Sleep," a voice commanded, and it was Elara, emerging from the shadows like a dream made flesh. "Sleep and surrender. Sleep and obey. You are ready to submit to the True Tide experience."

Greg wanted to resist, wanted to move, wanted to finish fucking his wife, but his body wouldn't respond. He was trapped, frozen, his cock hard and throbbing inside Dina's warm sheath, but he couldn't thrust, couldn't cum, could only sit and stare and sink deeper into trance.

Elara approached them, naked now, her body perfect and glowing in the pulsing light. She moved between them, her hands reaching out to touch them both: one hand on Greg's face, one hand on Dina's breast.

"Beautiful," she murmured. "So deep now. So open. So ready to be programmed. So ready to accept your new reality."

Her hands moved with deliberate sensuality, fondling Dina's breast, pinching her nipple, then sliding down to where Greg's cock entered her, feeling the connection.

"You will be very happy here as long as you give your minds over to the experience. Submit to the Spa. Obey the staff. Do not resist the needs you feel. There is no cheating here because everyone at the spa is public use. Everyone is available for pleasure. Everyone belongs to everyone else. Say you understand."

"We understand," Greg and Dina echoed, their voices hollow, mindless, perfectly synchronized.

"Say you submit."

"We submit," they droned, their eyes vacant, their minds empty, their bodies frozen in eternal readiness.

"Say you obey."

"We obey," they repeated, and the words etched themselves into their deepest selves, becoming truth, becoming law, becoming their new reality.

"Dina, to that chair please." She pointed to a chair next to them. Dina pulled herself off her husband with a slick sound and a low moan, then lay in the chair Elara had indicated, staring blankly at the ceiling.

Elara swung her leg over Greg and replaced his wife, sliding onto his hard shaft and beginning to move up and down.

"Look at me, Dina."

Dina's head turned to watch as another woman rode her husband.

"What did Philip teach you?"

"There is no cheating here," Dina said flatly.

"That's right. There is nothing wrong happening. You're just watching two people fuck. No different than watching porn. And what do you usually do when you watch porn, Dina?"

Her hand automatically found her nipple and her cunt again. "I touch myself."

"Good girl," Elara said with a groan as she rode Greg harder. The trio continued in silence for a moment. Greg laying flat. Dina fingering herself. Elara bouncing her body on her hypnotized toy. Then she threw her head back and screamed as she let the orgasm take her.

She collapsed onto Greg, her breasts pressing into his chest. Dina kept touching, lost in perfect trance. Until Elara climbed off and stood between them.

"Dina back on your husband."

Dina scurried to slide back into place where Elara had usurped her.

"When I leave the room, you two will wake. You'll finish the fuck I'm sure you desperately need. Then you'll go back to the room and change into the clothes that have been provided for you. You'll find them much more suitable than anything else you packed. Do you understand?"

"We understand, Elara," they said together.

"You have dinner reservations at 7. Don't be late."

"Yes, Elara."

The naked hostess slipped from the room, and as the door latched shut, Greg and Dina woke from their trance. Neither noticed any time had passed or any lapse in their rhythm. Greg erupted inside his wife, who took it all happily. No one else in the room stirred.