The hotel lobby was warm, loud, and thick with the scent of too many colognes fighting for dominance. My fingers tighten around the handle of my suitcase as we step inside, the wheels catching on the patterned carpet.

Somewhere to the left, a group bursts into laughter, the sound sharp and bright. The air smells like whiskey and that artificial citrus spray they use to mask the scent of sweat and old upholstery.

My husband James nudges me forward, his hand warm against the small of my back.

“Jesus, this place is packed,” he mutters, but there’s no real annoyance in his voice. Just that dry amusement he gets when he’s people-watching. I follow his gaze to the check-in line, where a cluster of men in button-downs and slacks stand too close to the front desk, their voices carrying over the hum of the crowd.

One of them, a tall guy with salt and pepper hair and an expensive watch, leans an elbow on the counter, grinning at the flustered clerk as she hands over a keycard. His friends laugh, the sound rich and knowing, like they’ve heard this joke a hundred times and it’s still funny.

Our daughter Jilly sighs dramatically behind us, her heels clicking as she shifts her weight. Her denim shorts were so short they barely covered her ass, the frayed edges brushing against the tops of her thighs. The low-cut top she’d insisted on wearing clung to her tits, the lace of her bra peeking out just enough.

“Ugh, of course there’s a line. Can’t they just, like, move?” She tugs at the strap of her duffel, but her eyes are already darting past us, landing on the men. I don’t need to look to know she’s noticed them. Her posture changes, shoulders back, chest out just a little more.

James exhales through his nose, a sound that might be a laugh if he let it. “Patience, kiddo. We’ll get there.”

“Finally,” Jilly drawls as we start to move. She steps up beside me, close enough that I catch the sweet, fruity scent of her body spray.

The man with the watch turns slightly, his gaze sliding over us before landing on Jilly. His eyes linger just a second too long and something hot and uncomfortable twists in my stomach. I tell myself it’s annoyance. She’s eighteen, for God’s sake. But then his friend, a broad-shouldered guy with a deep laugh, says something under his breath, and the first man smirks, not even bothering to hide it.

Jilly’s lips curl up. She knows they’re looking. She likes it.

I clear my throat. “Jilly.”

She blinks at me, all wide-eyed innocence. “Yeah, Mom?”

“Behave.”

Her laugh is light, musical. “I am behaving.”

God she was fearless. Sometimes I wish I could be more like that.

James makes a noise that’s half snort, half cough. His hand is on my back, his thumb tracing slow, absent circles against the fabric of my blouse. I shouldn’t notice. I definitely shouldn’t notice how his touch feels heavier than usual, how his fingers seem to press just a little firmer when Jilly leans forward to adjust the strap of her top, giving the men a better view of her cleavage.

The salt and pepper guy turns fully toward us. “You folks checking in?”

James answers before I can. “Yeah. Just got here.”

The man’s gaze flicks to Jilly, then back to us. “Well, you picked a good place. Plenty of fun to be had.” His emphasis on the word fun is deliberate, his smile slow and knowing.

Jilly doesn’t miss a beat. She steps forward, her hip brushing against my arm. “Oh, we love fun.”

My breath catches. James’s hand stills against my back.

Salt and pepper chuckles, his eyes dark and amused. “Is that so?” His gaze drags over Jilly, then flicks to me, then James. Assessing. Weighing. “You here with your parents, sweetheart?”

Jilly tilts her head, her blonde ponytail swinging. “Yeah. But they trust me.”

James’s fingers twitch against my skin. I can feel his pulse, or maybe it’s my own, hammering too fast in my throat.

The man’s smile sharpens. “They do, huh?” His gaze slides back to me. “They let you out of their sight often?”

Jilly laughs, the sound bright and unashamed. “Only when they’re sure I’m in good hands.”

James finally speaks, his voice rougher than before. “She’s a bit young for your crowd, don’t you think?”

The man’s grin doesn’t waver. “Never stopped us before.”

A beat of silence. The air feels thicker, charged. Jilly’s cheeks are pink, her lips parted just enough that I can see the glint of her tongue. My nipples tighten against the lace of my bra, and I hate that I notice.

The clerk calls our name, breaking the spell. James steps forward to grab our keycards, his movements stiff. Jilly waves at the men, her fingers wiggling. “See you later!”

One of them winks. “Count on it, baby girl. Don’t worry, Mom and Dad. We’ll take good care of her.”

James grips my waist as he steers us toward the elevators. Jilly skips ahead, humming under her breath, her hips swaying just a little more than usual in her to show her ass cheeks. The doors slide open, and we step inside, the three of us pressed too close together in the suddenly cramped space.

James punches the button for our floor. The doors close with a quiet ding.

Jilly leans against the mirrored wall, her reflection smug. My own reflection stared back at me, cheeks flushed, lips parted. What was that?

“God, they were hot. And confident.” Jilly says what we were all thinking.

I don’t answer. My tongue feels too thick, my throat too dry, my groin to hot.

James exhales sharply through his nose. His hand is still on me, his fingers now curled into the fabric of my blouse. “You’re eighteen,” he says, but there’s no real scold in his voice.

Jilly smirks. “Nineteen in two months. Old enough for a lot of things.”

The elevator climbs. My skin is too warm, my clothes too tight. I can smell James’s cologne, the faint musk of his sweat, the way his breath hitched when that man called Jilly baby girl.

The doors open. Jilly saunters out first, her heels clicking against the hallway floor. James follows, his hand finally dropping from my waist. I linger for a second, pressing my thighs together.

Our rooms are adjoining—Jilly’s on one side, ours on the other, with a door between. For privacy, we told her. So she can have her space.

James unlocks our door and holds it open. His eyes meet mine, dark and unreadable.

Jilly pauses in her doorway, her keycard already in hand. She glances at us over her shoulder, her smile slow and knowing. “Night, guys. Don’t wait up.”

The door clicks shut behind her.

James exhales, long and low. “She’s asking for it.”

I look down and can’t help but notice he has an erection. It shocks me. Is he actually turned on by all this?

I swallow. My body feels too sensitive, my skin buzzing. “She’s just ... precocious.”

“And that’s just what men like that are looking for.”

“You think we’ll see them again?” I wonder aloud.

----- The hotel bar is packed, the air thick with the scent of whiskey and fried food. Jilly walks ahead of us, her hips swaying in a new skirt, one that barely covers her ass, the one I told her was too short for public. The black fabric clings to her curves, the hem riding up with every step. Her top is tight, the neckline dipping low enough that I can see the swell of her cleavage, the glint of the silver necklace she borrowed from me without asking. My necklace. My daughter.

The bar is loud, bodies packed together, laughter spilling over the clink of glasses. And there they are, the same group of men from earlier, clustered at the far end, their voices booming over the noise. Salt and pepper is leaning against the bar, his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his gold watch catching the light. He sees Jilly first. His smile is slow, predatory. He remembers her.

Jilly doesn’t even pretend not to notice. She tosses her hair over her shoulder, her lips parting, pouty.

We slide into a booth together. “What do you want?” James asks, but his eyes aren’t on me. They’re on Jilly, who is taking her deliberate time getting to us. Putting on a show for the men. I see their gazes track the movement of her hips.

I sit. “Gin and soda, please.” My voice comes out too quiet. James doesn’t hear me. He’s still watching.

Jilly finally saunters over, sliding into the booth across from us. She’s smiling, her cheeks flushed. “They’re fun.”

My stomach twists. “Who?”

She rolls her eyes, but there’s a glint in them, something sharp and knowing. “The guys. From earlier.”

James taps against the table. “Jilly, they are older than I am.”

Jilly laughs, the sound bright and unapologetic. “So what? They’re nice.”

Nice. That’s not the word I’d use. Dangerous. Confident. Hungry.

I take a sip of my water, the glass cool against my palm. My nipples are tight under my blouse, the lace of my bra rubbing against them with every breath. I shouldn’t be turned on. I shouldn’t.

But I am.

“Be right back.” She’s already sliding out of the booth. “I’m gonna go say hi to them.”

James doesn’t stop her. His jaw is tight, but he doesn’t say a word.

Jilly walks over to them.

Her hips sway. Her skirt rides up, just enough to show the curve of her ass.

One of the men, big, broad-shouldered, his beard dark, says something to her.

She laughs, tilting her head back.

Salt and pepper steps closer. His hand hovers near her waist, not quite touching.

She doesn’t move away.

My breath catches.

James’s hand finds my thigh under the table. His fingers are warm, his grip firm. “She’s fine.” His voice is shaky.

I don’t answer. I can’t. My skin is too hot, my pulse too fast. His thumb brushes against the seam of my jeans, and my thighs press together without my permission. God, I’m wet. What the hell is wrong with me?

Jilly talks to them for a minute, her body language easy, like she’s known them for years. Then she turns, waving at us before coming back to the table.

“What was that about?” My voice is tighter than I mean it to be.

She shrugs, picking up her soda. “I told you. Just saying hi.”

“They were a bit close, don’t you think?” I ask. Jilly just laughs.

James adjusts himself under the table. I glance down. He’s hard. The bulge in his pants is obvious, the fabric straining. My face burns. I shouldn’t care.

But I do.

The men are still watching us. Salt and pepper raises his glass in our direction, his smile slow and knowing. Jilly lifts her soda in response, her fingers wrapped around the glass. One of the other men, younger, his hair dark and messy, leans over and says something to him. They both laugh and nod.

James’s hand slides higher up my thigh. His thumb brushes against the inside, just barely. I should stop him.

But his fingers are warm, his grip firm, and when he presses just a little harder, a whimper escapes my lips before I can stop it.

The waiter brings our food, but none of us are hungry. Jilly picks at her fries. James takes a long pull from his beer. I sip my gin and soda, the ice clinking against my teeth.

Salt and pepper stands up from the bar. He’s tall, his presence filling the space as he walks over to our table. His cologne reaches me before he does, something spicy, expensive. My pulse jumps.

“Mind if I join you?” He’s already pulling out the chair next to Jilly before we can answer.

James’s grip on my thigh tightens. “We’re having a family dinner.”

He smiles, unfazed. “I won’t stay long.” He sits, his shoulder brushing against Jilly’s. She doesn’t move away. “Just wanted to introduce myself properly. I’m Daniel.”

I force a smile. “Diane.”

“James.” My husband’s voice is clipped.

Daniel’s gaze flicks to me, then James, then lingers on Jilly. “Your daughter mentioned you’re here for the weekend.”

Jilly grins. “Yeppers.”

Daniel’s smile widens. “Fun. We’re here for a convention. I’m the boss, and I ride my men hard. It’s nice to let off a little steam. Work hard, play hard, you know how it is.” His eyes cut to me, then James. “What do you do?”

James shifts in his seat. “I’m in sales.”

“Ah.” Daniel nods, like he’s filing that away. “And you?”

“I’m a teacher.” My voice is too high.

Daniel’s eyebrows lift. “A teacher. Respect.” His gaze drops to my chest, just for a second, before flicking back to Jilly. “And you’re in college, right?”

Jilly nods, her fingers toying with her straw. “Freshman.”

Daniel hums, low and approving. “Smart girl.” He addresses me and James. “Thank you for letting us borrow your daughter. She’s been a breath of fresh air to us old men. Nothing better than a blast of youthful energy. Dinner’s on me.”

James starts to protest, but Daniel is already waving the waiter over and explaining. Jilly giggles at her father being shown up.

James’s fingers dig into my thigh.

Daniel stands, his hand brushing against Jilly’s shoulder. His fingers linger for a second too long. “Maybe you’ll let us borrow her again this weekend.” He walks back to the bar, his stride easy, like he owns the place.

Jilly watches him go, her lips parted.

James’s voice is rough. “We should go.”

I nod, my throat too tight to speak.

Jilly finishes her soda, then stands. “I’m gonna go say goodnight.”

James doesn’t stop her. Neither do I.

She walks over to the men, hugging each of them. Daniel says something to her, and she laughs, her hand on his arm. She leans in, whispering something in his ear. His smile widens. He nods. They both type something into their phones.

She comes back to the table, her phone in hand. “Ready?”

James stands, his cock still hard against his pants. I follow, my legs unsteady.

The elevator ride up is quiet. Jilly texts someone, her thumbs moving fast, a smile playing on her lips. James pulls me against him, his arm around my waist. His cock presses against my ass, thick and insistent.

“I think we should go right to bed.” His breath is hot against my ear.

I nod, my body buzzing.

We walk down the hall together. Jilly is in her own world, glued to her phone. We get to our respective doors.

She glances up at us, her smile knowing. Her phone buzzes in her hand. She glances at the screen, her lips curling. “Night, guys.”

Then she steps into her room. We do the same.

James’s hands are on me before the door even clicks shut.

----- I wake to the hum of the air conditioner, the sheets tangled around my legs. The room is dark, the only light coming from the crack under the bathroom door. James is asleep beside me, his breathing slow and steady.