"You’ve never been to a match like this with us," Ava said, surprisingly looping her arm through his.
To her side, Annabelle smiled, sincerely pinching Olivia. "London gas hit different at night though."
"Unfortunately, we were unable to find such gas. Big ga VVIP tickets are hard to book," Olivia muttered, already leading the way toward the private entrance.
...
The private entrance was discreet—a tinted glass door with velvet ropes and a stern-looking man in a suit standing composed by the side.
After they got close enough, he silently brought out a device and stretched out his hand for their tickets.
Beep! Beep!
After a second reconfirmation of their identity, the man stepped aside, and the glass door automatically opened.
Inside was a narrow, cozy corridor with dim lighting, laced with the polished scent of leather. The echoes from the shouts inside the stadium were sowhat muffled.
"Hmmm." Nodding, the girls simultaneously released a satisfied breath, realizing they had escaped the noise.
"This way," said the waiting hostess with a practiced smile, her heels clicking as she guided them down the cozy furnished corridor to the elevator.
From what it seed, they were yet to arrive at the VVIP section.
Getting out of the elevator, they were t with a dimr and cozier corridor—eerily quiet and vacant of life. No sound could be heard.
There was a row of ten doors labeled with nuric numbers, showing just how high-priced the VVIP boxes were.
From the girls’ reaction, he was sure the amount had taken a small, painful bite out of their pockets.
"Hope it’s all worth it..."
Almost inaudible, he heard Annabelle whisper by his side, and her gaze focused on him for a mont.
Taking a light step forward, the hostess pushed open the labeled (I) door to reveal the luxurious interior.
Sleek black reclined seats faced a wall of glass that offered a perfect view of the pitch. The space behind it revealed a sleek bar with soft lighting.
A long sofa stretched across the back wall, and trays of fine hors d’oeuvres and desserts sat waiting.
Ava let out a soft whistle. "This is... kind of sexy," she muttered, tossing her blazer onto the sofa.
Olivia didn’t wait to be impressed. She kicked off her shoes and let herself sink into one of the recliners. "We should’ve brought a bottle. Or two."
Annabelle drifted to the tinted glass wall, pressing her fingers lightly against it as she looked down at the warming-up players below. Done with her secretive observation, she silently nodded with a reassured smile curling her lips.
Seeing the way they all acted carefree, the hostess took her cue to leave. Max’s eyes lingered suspiciously on the three of them before reservedly taking one of the seats like an outsider.
Being cheeky and carefree was never his thing to begin with.
Gazing down at the field, the warming-up players were already done and had each positioned at decisive spots.
Despite knowing little about soccer compared to gridiron, he could tell the players below were professional and not a shabby squad.
To attest to this, almost half of the stadium was filled—responsible for rigorous chants that couldn’t be heard. Warm, quiet, and private.
Just then, the ga started.
Tilting his head, he noticed Ava handing him a glass of drink while taking her seat next to him.
Olivia and Annabelle did the sa, turning strangely quiet while watching the ga in eerie silence.
The air was starting to change.
’Is this drugged or are they trying to kill ?’ Caught by these two provocative thoughts, Max glanced at the drink inside.
Attracting his attention, Annabelle pulled the tie from her hair and stood up.
"Let’s fill the glasses." She suggested, already grabbing the bottle and sitting back down in the pensive atmosphere.
"Take." After filling the crystal tumbler, she handed it to Olivia. Doing the sa, it was then passed to him.
Filling his glass, he handed it to Ava.
’What the...’ His gaze dropped slightly as Ava stretched out her hand, settling on her slightly revealed twin peaks.
Unexpectedly, she collected the bottle with a bashful expression, winking at him.
Since they had each filled their glasses, they all settled their attention on the ga—or rather, pretended to.
Calm and composed as he was, Max found it difficult to visualize the three of them together with him at the sa ti.
Slowly, many things started to piece together.
Starting from last night, how both of them dragged Olivia from staying with him. And then this morning, they out of the blue wanted to spend their ti with him in the na of catching up on lost ti.
Four VVIP tickets. Three girls. Alone with him in a private box.
More than that, Max realized their hushed whispers and little argunts were all related to him.
On the field, one of the playing teams had scored a goal. One side of the spectator stand could be seen jubilating while the other sat still.
Just as he was drawn by this scene, one of the girls beca unable to hold the silence.
"So..." Ava spoke up first, drawing out the first word to catch their attention while twirling her glass.
"...Olivia told us what happened." The instant she said this, she gulped down the remaining contents in her glass and turned to face him with a bold, bashful look. Her blush heavily strained under that facade.
"She told us you used that thing on her." Pointing at his crotch, her arm shook unsteadily before resting it back down.
From the heavy flush clouding her cheeks, it could be seen she had used up the bravery provided by the drink and now looked shy under his speechless gaze.
However, she wasn’t alone.
Seeing her sister’s faltering expression, Annabelle spoke up.
"–You know we all saw your cock yesterday, and didn’t believe we could take sothing like that. However, Olivia has been taunting us since then."
"Let us see."
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