Dusk's pale fingers found Villa S028 an hour after Chen Liling vanished. Zhou Tian watched from a high, empty balcony as the automatic gates swallowed at the sight of her hunched, retreating figure walking stiffly down the pristine, deserted avenue. The polished concrete beneath his bare feet felt colder than her skin ever had. The heavy brass keycard lay discarded on the island countertop beside a single tear-smeared water ring – the sole evidence of her offering. He showered in scalding water that failed to sear the encounter from his skin, pulled on clean black garments, and walked back into the city's indifferent embrace. The villa locked itself behind him, sealing the concrete tomb and its brief, brutal spark of warmth.
Work was armor. The Broken Mast's mundane chaos felt almost comforting after Infinite Money Alley's lethally curated chill. The clatter of glassware, Lily's hawk-like gaze from the cash register, the low thrum of desperation-laced conversation – it was simple machinery he knew how to operate. Camillie's spectral "Call me" note felt distant, irrelevant. Jiang Xifeng's peat-and-resolution indictment echoed only as background radiation. He moved with inhuman efficiency: gin fizzes for weeping mistresses, bourbon on the rocks for hollow-cheeked traders, Tsingtao beers for loud students chasing oblivion cheaper. His hands were steady, focused, galaxies away from the tremors induced by ruthless nipple torment. Money flowed into the till, meaningless ink against the automated deposits hitting his offshore accounts before shift's end.
Just past midnight, the oxygen shifted. A ripple of sudden, opulent energy cut through the bar's tired desperation. They didn't walk in; they possessed the entrance. Lin Wei and Sun Lina. A matched set forged from privilege, boredom, and predatorily sharp aesthetics. Late twenties, dressed like expensive razor blades – Lin in sculpted faux-leather pants and a sheer, sequined top that bared her flat midriff and the perfect, pert globes of her high-set, unnaturally firm breasts beneath the diaphanous fabric. Sun Lina matched her companion's predatory energy in a dangerously short dress of liquid metallic silver that clung to every sinewy curve, emphasizing a taller, more statuesque frame with breasts that seemed sculpted for maximum impact: fuller than Lin's perfectly round assets, heavy but defiantly upheld, the deep vee of her neckline promising valleys that demanded exploration.
Lily materialized beside Zhou like smoke. Her obsidian glint held predatory amusement. "Zhou Tian," she clipped, nodding towards the women who'd commandeered two barstools, radiating entitlement. "They are our VIP Clients. Lin Wei and Sun Lina. They find the basement… predictable tonight and they requested your expertise." Her smile was a razor nick. "so don't hold back."
Zhou faced them. Lin Wei surveyed him with a bored, appraising stare reminiscent of someone selecting cuts of meat. Sun Lina offered a slow, deliberate smile that didn't touch her cool, hooded eyes. Their scent – jasmine, ozone, and something metallic, like cold cash – warred with the stale beer air.
"Dirty martini, Ketel One and should be bone dry," Lin stated, her voice crisp, professional. "Five olives. Bruised lime peel express." The order was a weapon testing his precision.
"Old Fashioned," Sun Lina drawled, leaning forward slightly, letting the material of her dress stretch taut over her magnificent cleavage. "Woodford Reserve Double Oaked. Maple syrup, not sugar. Black walnut bitters. One perfect cherry. Big ice cube." Her gaze raked Zhou from hands to collarbone. "Make it... memorable, bartender."
He became a surgical instrument. Glass chilled. Ice carved with the quiet fury of mounting frustration. Gin measured to the drop, vermouth kissed the stirrer then discarded. Olives speared cruelly tight. The whiskey sighed onto precious maple and crushed walnut essence. His hands moved with the same detached, ruthless precision he'd used pinching Chen's nipple against the steel counter. The drinks appeared before them: Lin's martini a frozen, sinister diamond; Sun Lina's Old Fashioned a warm menace glowing amber in crystal. Both women tasted. Lin Wei's lips thinned fractionally – acknowledgment of lethal perfection. Sun Lina's slow smile widened, predatory approval. "He does understand aggression," she murmured to Lin, swirling the heavy liquid.
They watched him like exhibits the rest of the shift. Talked over his shoulder, low words loaded with silken implication. Their bodies were feigned casualness – Lin Wei shifting so the sequined top revealed sheer-side glimpses of flawless, round breasts; Sun Lina leaning back, letting her silver dress ride higher, exposing thigh muscle sculpted by Pilates and power. Their presence was a slow, deliberate seduction, impersonal and transactional, laced with the challenge of the untouchable suddenly within reach. Lily observed the dance, her expression carved from volcanic rock.
At shift's end, Lin Wei extracted a platinum card and dropped it next to her drained glass. Sun Lina slid off her stool, swaying slightly for effect. Zhou didn't speak. He simply locked eyes with Lin Wei, letting the crushing emptiness he always carried bleed into his gaze. It was a dare, an acceptance of their game's terms. He held the villa's heavy brass keycard between two fingers, tapping it lightly on the bar. Lin Wei's perfect eyebrow arched. Sun Lina's tongue flicked out, moistening dark-painted lips. No words were needed. Zhou walked out towards the alley. The distinct syncopated click of their designer heels echoed behind him, price tags attached to oblivion.
Villa S028: Pressurized Oblivion
The villa's vastness swallowed the click of the lock. Lin Wei prowled the concrete floor like a gallery curator assessing flawed sculptures. Sun Lina went to the floor-to-ceiling windows, tracing the bulletproof glass with a lacquered nail, her reflection a silhouette of distilled allure. Zhou ignored the performance. He bypassed the empty living void. Instead, he led them through the cavernous master bedroom towards the ensuite.
The bathroom wasn't wet-room luxury; it was a chamber of industrial functionality writ large. Polished dark concrete walls. A massive, square, rain-shower head suspended threateningly high over a simple steel grate drain set into the seamless floor. Industrial-grade taps glinting like surgical tools. Utterly sterile. Utterly devoid of softness.
He leaned against the cold wall, crossing his arms. His eyes, flat and demanding, flicked once to the single, unadorned lever controlling the deluge, then back to them. The message was cavernously clear. Lin Wei met his stare, a feral spark lighting the boredom. Sun Lina turned, already shrugging her silver dress down her shoulders. The whisper of expensive fabric sliding off skin was the loudest sound in the concrete tomb. It pooled at her feet, revealing a body honed for impact: a taut abdomen rippling minimally beneath the slight movement, hips leading into powerful, sculpted thighs, and above, a stark revelation of purposeful, gravity-defying perfection. Her magnificent breasts sat high and impossibly full on her chest, pale globes capped with pert, dark pink nipples jutting starkly against the cold air, begging defiance against the upcoming water. She stepped out of the silver puddle, unashamed.
Lin Wei followed, stepping out of her leather pants with deliberate slowness, shimmying the sequined top over her head. Her nude form contrasted Sun Lina's statuesque abundance: compact, ripped muscle packaged with alarming aesthetics. Her breasts were smaller, perfectly spherical, firm enough to bounce minimally when armour plate bounced. Insolent nipples pointed forward with diamond-hard precision. She kicked her clothes aside, a warrior disarming theatrically.
Naked in the stark, brutalist chamber, they emanated power and vulnerability painted onto cold concrete. Lin Wei moved first, purposeful steps towards the shower zone. With a deft flick of his wrist – still leaning impassively – Zhou scraped the lever down. Water roared down instantly – fierce, drenching, shockingly cold at first before rapidly heating into a scalding deluge. It plastered Lin Wei's short hair flat, sluiced over her tight shoulders, amplifying the defined riverlets of muscle across her abdomen and back. Sun Lina threw her head back, stepping beneath the pounding cascade, gasping sharply as the heat needled her sensitive skin. Her breasts, heavy with water, seemed even more profound, droplets clinging like diamonds to the swollen pink crests, water carving rivers down the dense curves before spilling over her tight stomach. Steam began to curl upwards, filling the room.
Zhou pushed himself off the wall. He walked forward into the punishing rain without flinching, the water flattening his own clothes instantly, plastering the dark fabric against hard muscle. He stopped before the glistening, heat-stung women. His hands, already soaked, lifted not for gentleness, but claiming.
His left hand clamped possessively onto Sun Lina's majestic curve. Fingers dug deep into the pouring wet resilience near her armpit, water gushing around his grip, thumb reaching forward through the cascade to cruelly grind her dark, rigid nipple stiffened further by the heat. Pain sharpened her gasp into a high-pitched hiss. "Aiii Ya! HARD!" Her back arched reflexively, pushing her breast harder into his torment. He squeezed the heavy weight relentlessly, water rushing between his fingers and slick skin, making his grip feel stronger, crueler. His thumb worked her tortured bud in tight, vicious circles. "MmmmFFF!" she moaned, the sound raw and stripped of sophistication by the pounding water.
Simultaneously, his right hand lashed out to Lin Wei. Not grasping. Pleasuring. He hooked fingers into her slickness beneath the scalding stream. Two thick digits drove up instantly, finding her swollen heat already slick with steam and primal anticipation. No preamble, only demanding penetration damp and deep. "AH!" Lin Wei choked, staggering against the force, bracing herself on his rain-blackened shoulder as his fingers started an immediate, ruthless pistoning rhythm inside her. Pushing against the tight roof of her channel, pulling out slowly only to spear back in deep. She bucked against his hand screaming each deep entry forcefully hitting bedrock stretching limit. "TIAN!!"
His mouth bypassed Sun Lina's panting lips, locking onto her other stripped-down, wetly neglected nipple. He bit, not deep, but sharp enough to ignite nerve endings already screaming from water heat and her breast being crushed. He sucked fiercely, drawing the velvety-dark peak deep onto his tongue, rolling it relentlessly against sharp teeth, while his hand continued its brutal massage of the dense flesh, fingers digging, thumb pressing the other nipple like a vise mechanism deep against nerve-convergence points. Sun Lina collapsed against him screaming incomprehensibly, drenched head thrown back yielding crests entirely ravished as creature sensual intoxicant; her cries fractured by the deafening waterfall drumming skulls and skulls rendering hollowed resignation fraught clawing desperation demanding more small death orchestral crescendo peaks strengthen climbing high diminished ruin utterly fused storm and battered rock below barrier submerged relentlessly delivered.