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Before answering, Lukus glanced at his watch. “We’re on schedule. We should have at least an hour, or more, at the loft before we have to head down. Let’s sit them down together and talk through what they’re gonna see. In fact…”
When Lukus stopped talking, Markus glanced sideways at his best friend. “What?”
“Nothing. I just had an idea of something that might help Tiff. She still won’t look through the club contract with me, and she flat-out refuses to look at any of the D/s contracts. She insists on talking about everything instead.”
“Yeah. You told me. So what?”
Lukus sported an evil grin. “I know exactly how we’re gonna spend that hour before we head downstairs.” As he finished his thought, Lukus’s attention went past his friend to the center of the room. “Holy fuck. We’re in so much trouble.”
Markus sat back, his vision captured by the women. His jaw dropped, and he knew he must have looked like an idiot, but he couldn’t stop ogling the center stage display. His wife and her best friend were standing atop the raised platform, each in form-fitting corset dresses. Their generous breasts were pressed high; their waists cinched tight. The short flirty skirts flowed to mid-thigh, adding a flair of respectability to an otherwise naughty outfit.
“We are very lucky men.”
