AN: Thank you all. We are back in the top 10. 🫡🫡
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The smell of freshly brewed coffee filled the kitchen. Max leaned against the counter in a cropped tank top and the tiniest pair of shorts known to man, sipping her coffee like she was in a toothpaste commercial but for degenerates. Caroline, far more composed in a silk robe and fluffy socks, sipped her espresso with pinky raised, like caffeine royalty.
Both of them were waiting for the man of the hour to show up until Max's phone buzzed.Â
She glanced at it lazily, expecting spam or a meme from some chaotic group chat. Instead, she saw Alex's name.
Max's eyes lit up like a raccoon finding an open fridge.
"Oooh," she sang, picking up the phone. "It's moneybags."
Caroline perked up. "What did he say?"
Max unlocked her phone and read aloud, complete with a dramatic voice-over:
Alex: Brainstorming date ideas. Pick one or fight to the death over it:
Beach day
Nude beach
Lazy yacht day (I promise to keep my clothes off and let you do that coconut oil thing on my abs)
Skydiving
Race track
Max paused, blinked, then burst out laughing. "This man just dropped 'nude beach' and 'skydiving' like they're in the same casual bracket."
Caroline grabbed her mug. "Okay, let's break this down. Pros and cons."
[Option One: Beach Day]
"What are we, influencers named Kailey and Jett? Pass. Too much sand. Sand in your crack. Sand in your snack. Arg! Last time it took 2 days to get all the sand off my cooch," Max scrunched her nose. "Then there are crying kids. Some guy named Chad playing volleyball shirtless with his vape clipped to his board shorts."
Caroline sipped her coffee thoughtfully. "Yeah. And I'll end up stepping on a Dorito buried in the sand."
"Beach is a no," Max declared. "Next."
[Option Two: Nude Beach]
Caroline immediately held up a hand. "Nope."
Max grinned. "What? Scared people will die of boob envy?"
"Yes," Caroline deadpanned. "Yes, Max. I'm trying to prevent the global extinction of male brain cells. And I don't think I want to get my wedgie tanned or my cute pink nipples."
Max shrugged proudly, cupping her boobs with a sly smile. "You're right. If these girls came out in full daylight, some poor guy named Greg would drown in the middle of the sea while surfing."
"And someone's grandpa would faint or worse have a heart attack," Caroline shuddered. "Then there's always one guy who plays volleyball too hard with everything flapping in the breeze."
"Wangball," Max whispered ominously.
They both nodded in haunted silence.
"Fine. Nude beach is off the table," Max said. "But for the record... wasted potential."
[Option Three: Lazy Yacht Day]
Max and Caroline stared at each other for two seconds. Then:
"HELL. YES," they said in unison.
Caroline clutched her mug dramatically. "Yacht. Sun. Water. Wine. Floating bed."
Max leaned back smugly. "And him shirtless, begging me to rub oil on his abs? Bitch, I've been training my whole life for this."
Caroline nodded. "We bring mimosas. Fancy sunglasses. Maybe wear white linen like a sexy cult."
"Yacht day is peak girlfriend energy," Max declared. "Skydiving is side-chick nonsense."
"Speaking of which..."
[Option Four: Skydiving]
Caroline raised her eyebrows. "You jumping out of a plane?"
Max took a long sip of coffee, then casually deadpanned, "Sure. As long as I strap a parachute to each tit and pray for the best."
Caroline spit her drink.
Max kept going. "Think about it. I fall, boobs inflate like airbags, I just bounce off the ground, and Alex goes, 'My god. She's invincible.'"
Caroline wiped tears from her eyes. "I hate how that's both ridiculous and kind of believable."
"Boobs. Nature's emergency landing gear."
[Option Five: Race Track]
Caroline's eyes lit up. "Ooooh... leather."
Max arched a brow. "Oh no. I know that face. That's your 'I'm gonna dress like a dominatrix and challenge a billionaire to a death match' face."
"I want to wear a black leather suit, slick my hair back, and say things like 'Lose and ready to be spanked and edged.'"
Max smirked. "He's not gonna survive that. You'll milk him dry. Wait! Maybe both of us could do it. Dominate the alpha. But..."
Caroline nodded solemnly. "Let me have this."
[After a little discussion...]
Max leaned back, kicking her legs up. "Okay. Final vote. Lazy yacht day?"
Caroline nodded. "Yacht day. With backup plan: race track. Because if I don't get to wear leather, I will explode."
Max cracked her knuckles. "You explode? Nah! Alex exploding like an open fountain... Hell yeah! I'd pay to experience that."
She texted back:
Max: Yacht day, Captain Hot Abs. We'll bring the oil, you bring the body.
PS: Caroline says if you cancel, she's wearing leather and planning to dominate you in a dungeon.
Alex responded almost instantly:
Alex: Yacht day it is. You had me at "oil." I'm bringing champagne and zero shame.
Caroline read it and sighed. "We're gonna need bigger towels."
Max grinned. "We're gonna need self-control. Which, tragically... I forgot how to spell."
Caroline raised her mug. "To bad decisions on boats."
Max clinked hers. "And oil. Lots and lots of oil."
They both took a sip.
It was going to be a beautiful disaster.Â
[11:02 AM] [Outside Max and Caroline's Apartment]
Alex drove his Aston Martin and stopped near the entrance.
He shot off a quick text:
Alex:Â "Your ride has arrived, ladies. Captain Hot Abs reporting for duty. Bring the chaos."
Upstairs, Max's phone buzzed on the kitchen counter.
She picked it up, read the text, and let out a wicked little cackle. "He called himself Captain Hot Abs."
Caroline, standing by the hallway mirror, zipping her small bag shut, raised a brow. "Well, he's not wrong."
Max spun once in place, then faced the mirror, checking herself one last time. Red lipstick: bold. Black eyeliner: sharp enough to stab a man's ego. She leaned forward, puckered up, and blew herself a flying kiss.
"Confirmed," she said smugly. "I'd fuck me."
"You will try," Caroline said, picking up her tote bag. She looked effortlessly soft in her white floral sundress, the pastel fabric flowing just enough to make it seem like she might be an innocent spring breeze… but the heels said otherwise. Sexy trouble in disguise.
Max, meanwhile, rocked her version of casual: a fitted red tee under a black leather jacket, tight jeans, and her trademark high-knee boots that added two inches to her height and ten to her attitude.
"Alright," Max said, grabbing her own bag. "Checklist."
"Bikinis?" Caroline asked.
"Extra sexy ones? Check. Thongs? Transparent ones? Double check," Max said.
"Oil?"
Max lifted a small pouch triumphantly. "Coconut. Vanilla. With shimmer."
Caroline smirked. "We're not going to a yacht. We're going to war."
Max winked. "I came dressed for both."
Together, they stepped out of the apartment, their heels clicking in unison, energy radiating off them like heatwaves.
Downstairs, Alex leaned against the car, arms crossed, sunglasses on, jawline doing god's work. He looked up as the door opened, and his lips twitched into a grin.
"Well," he said, pushing off the car, "I guess this is what they meant by traveling with style."
Max gave a mock curtsy. "Captain Hot Abs. We're ready for launch."
Max slid into the front seat like she owned it, tossing her bag into the back. Caroline followed, slipping into the backseat beside it, her hand trailing along the leather like she was already imagining all the sins they were about to commit on water.
Alex looked at Max. "Red lips, boots, and trouble."
Max smirked. "Only three things I never leave home without."
He looked in the rearview mirror at Caroline. "And you look like the calm before a very beautiful storm."
She smiled, sweet but sharp. "I packed bikinis with less fabric than your watch strap. Just a heads up."
Alex raised a brow, smirking. "Then let's set sail."
With the click of his seatbelt and the rev of the engine, they pulled away from the curb, and headed toward their destination, with the windows down, music low, and the kind of anticipation that buzzed beneath the skin.
Three beautiful disasters in a luxury car.
Bags packed with mischief.
Hearts already flirting with trouble.
The yacht didn't stand a chance.
...
[Late Morning – 11:40 AM | Private Helipad, Near the Coast]
The Aston Martin stopped near a private helipad nestled in the hills above the ocean. There were no crowds, no flashy signs. Just a matte-black helicopter parked quietly on the pad like it was waiting for a VIP mission.
Max stepped out first, boots clicking against the concrete as the wind picked up and blew her hair slightly across her face. She pushed it back with a smirk. "Of course. Helicopter. Because cars are for peasants and yachts can't just park at your local marina anymore."
Caroline stepped out next, dress fluttering just slightly in the breeze, looking like a goddess who took detours through chaos. She took in the view and let out a low whistle. "It's been so long since... Haaa... Nevermind."
Alex rounded the car with a grin, grabbing their bags from the trunk. "We're going full extra today. The yacht's not docked—it's moored off the coast. Middle of nowhere. Privacy, space, and no distractions."
Max raised a brow. "You say no distractions like we're not literally walking distractions."
He laughed. "Touché."
They walked toward the helicopter, where a clean-cut pilot in dark aviators greeted them with a respectful nod. "Mr. Wilson. Ladies. We'll be airborne in two minutes."
Alex gave a quick thumbs-up and turned to the girls. "Hope neither of you get motion sickness."
Caroline tilted her head. "Only if I'm not the one causing it."
Max whispered under her breath. "If this thing crashes, I better die looking hot."
Alex helped them up, "With me here, no one's gonna die."
They climbed aboard, buckled in, and with a heavy thump-thump-thump of spinning blades, the helicopter lifted into the sky.
...
[Noon – Over the Ocean]
Below them, the water stretched endlessly. Blue upon blue, with flecks of white where waves dared to shimmer. The city faded behind them. No buildings. No traffic. No noise.
Just sky, sea, and silence.
Until Max ruined it.
She leaned close to Alex, voice in his ear over the headset mic. "So what happens if we crash into the water? Do we do the whole 'I'll never let go' routine, or..."
Alex grinned. "I float. You cling."
Caroline added from across the cabin, "He'd use one of us as a flotation device." She looked at Max's boobs. "Probably you."
"Yep! I'd use Max's boobs as floaties," Alex said casually.
Max's laugh cut through the rotor noise. "Smart man."
The chopper started its descent after about fifteen minutes, circling once as they spotted the yacht below.
It was massive.
Pristine white. Four levels. Sun decks. A hot tub on the bow. It looked like a mafia villain's vacation home. No nearby land in sight... just the ocean. Infinite, open, blue.
The helicopter touched down gently on the landing pad built into the upper deck.
The second the blades stopped and the door opened, Max was already halfway out. Her boots hit the deck like she was storming a runway.
"Welcome to The Siren, ladies," Alex announced as he followed them out. "My floating kingdom of irresponsibility."
Caroline took one look at the yacht and muttered, "I'm gonna commit a sin on every floor."
Max smirked. "Call dibs on the hot tub."
Two workers in black suits, who were waiting for their arrival, took their bags inside. Then they got into the helicopter and left. Leaving three of them alone.
"Well, girls. Just three of us and the ocean. We got maximum privacy here. So, make yourselves comfortable. Your rooms are on level 2, just follow the sign," Alex stretched his arms.
"Hmm," Max said, strolling toward the rail, hands on hips. "And what are we doing with all this ocean, champagne, and zero supervision?"
Alex looked at them both, grin lazy and dangerous. "You're changing into bikinis. I'm popping the champagne. After that? Let's just say... no rules apply."
Caroline's eyes lit up. "No rules?"
Max smiled slowly. "Then I'm going topless."
Caroline glanced at her. "We brought tops?"
"Only to take them off," Max said. (She wasn't wrong)
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[6 advance chs] + [11 chs of Two and a Half Men: Waking up as Charlie Harper] [All chs available for all tiers]