Lustysouls -

It was perfect. Every touch, every whisper, every surrender. For six hours, Leo was not a man who had been left—he was a god of the skin, worshipped and worshiping. When it ended, he lay on silk sheets, grinning, weightless.

Worse.

It wasn’t a kiss of flesh. It was a kiss of extraction . He felt the memory detach from his bones like a splinter sliding out. A flicker of heat, a gasp, and then—nothing. The memory was gone. Not faded. Not blurry. Gone , as if it had never happened. lustysouls

She led him past the velvet rope, past the bar where drinks bled colors that didn’t exist in nature, and into a back room lit by a single red bulb. A mirror covered one wall, but it didn’t show their reflections. Instead, it showed a slow slideshow of every person Leo had ever desired—girlfriends, strangers on trains, his wife in the morning light, even a high school crush he’d buried so deep he’d forgotten her name. It was perfect