So, here's a fun thought experiment.
Take five of the most dangerous, beautiful, absolutely unhinged women you've ever met. Dress them in outfits that cost more than most people's car payments. Tailoring so precise it feels like the fabric signed an NDA before touching their skin.
Inject them with the specific serotonin that only activates when hot women nearly MILFs, realize they have a free night and zero obligations—no husbands to placate, no investors to charm, no reputations to defend.
Add two separate reasons to celebrate that were genuinely, emotionally enormous.
Shake vigorously.
What you get is the energy in that hotel lobby right now, which was somewhere between a Beyoncé concert and a controlled explosion.
Lila was glowing.
The woman was radiating heat like she'd swallowed a small sun and her body was still negotiating the terms. You could have told me NASA was tracking her as a thermal anomaly and I would've nodded.
And look — I got it.
I genuinely got it.
