A few days later the college threw one of those infamous off-campus club parties—neon lights, pounding bass, bodies grinding in the dark, free-flowing liquor, and zero rules. The place was packed with rich kids from uni: girls in barely-there dresses, guys in open shirts showing off chains and tattoos, everyone chasing highs and hookups.

Stiles arrived on Scott’s arm, poured into a tiny black dress that hugged every curve—thin straps, plunging neckline, hem so short it barely skimmed the tops of her thighs. No bra. No panties. Her heavy tits bounced freely under the thin fabric with every step, nipples hard and visible through the material. The dress clung to her fat ass like a second skin, riding up dangerously when she moved. Scott’s hand stayed possessively on her lower back, thumb brushing the exposed skin above her ass crack.