Pleasure High Above

Markus parks himself on that balcony every afternoon like it owes him money—forty floors up, feet kicked out, nothing but sky. His little kingdom, except Lola keeps it from being lonely. She never strays far. Just slides those painted toes over his thigh, up higher, until they find him already half-hard under the shorts. No big production. She curls her foot, wraps the arch around him, warm and soft and slow, while the wind messes with his hair. Sun’s out. City hums below like it couldn’t care less. He grins, because damn if this isn’t the best bad decision he makes all week.