The group spilled into the tunnel like a living wave of heat and perfume, eight girls pressing around Nash so tight he felt every heartbeat, every tremble against his skin.
The Baby-Boom subs were already waiting at the doorways, pink-and-white cheer uniforms, arms crossed, eyes sharp and loyal like they'd been born for this moment.
One gave Rei a quick nod.
"Perimeter secure. No staff, no Blacklist, no phones, and no Madam. Go get him, captain."
The locker-room door opened on silent hinges, and the scent hit Nash like a wall: warm vanilla body spray tangled with raw girl-sweat, the sharp rubber bite of fresh court shoes lined up in perfect rows, and underneath it all the unmistakable musk of eight pussies already soaked through thin shorts.
Soft pink lights glowed from the ceiling, turning every bead of sweat into a tiny pink diamond.
Mirrors on every wall reflected the scene from infinite angles, eight half-stripped athletes circling their prize like a ritual.
