Chapter 17: Blind Spot

The parking level stayed half-empty and poorly lit.

No one had moved to put clothes back on.

Priya was still on her knees between Ethan’s legs, mouth working the heavy cock clean with slow, deliberate pulls while her hands stroked what she couldn’t fit.

Sloane was bent forward over the hood of the nearest car, soft body of Kai buried deep inside her from behind, hips snapping in a steady rhythm that made her breath hitch on every thrust.

Marcus had moved behind Ethan, chest pressed to the leather jacket, one hand reaching around to fondle the balls while Priya sucked. The wet sounds overlapped under the low concrete ceiling, skin, spit, the quiet creak of a car suspension, the occasional broken moan that no one bothered to swallow.

Kai’s soft voice cut through it, rough. "Switch."

They switched.

Ethan ended up with Sloane on her back across the warm hood of Priya’s car, her legs hooked over his arms as he fucked into her with long, deep strokes.

The taller body gave him the leverage to drive harder. She took it with open-mouthed silence, nails raking down the front of the open jacket.

Beside them Kai sat back against a concrete pillar while Priya straddled him in reverse, sinking down onto the soft cock and riding with focused rolls of her hips.

Marcus knelt between Kai’s spread knees and licked at the place where they joined, tongue wet and eager, while one hand stroked himself.

The air smelled like sex and exhaust and hot concrete.

Ethan felt the heat building again low in his gut. He watched Kai’s soft hands grip Priya’s waist, watched the way the borrowed body moved under her, and thrust harder into Sloane in answer. She clenched around him with a choked sound and came, pulsing tight. He followed her over a few strokes later, burying himself deep and spilling inside her while his vision narrowed at the edges.

They barely slowed.

Priya lifted off Kai only long enough for Marcus to take her place, pushing into her with a low groan while Kai recovered enough to get hard again.

Sloane slid off the hood, dropped to her knees in front of Ethan, and took the messy cock into her mouth, tasting herself on him.

The group shifted and overlapped without discussion, hands, mouths, cocks, the continuous wet soundtrack of people who had stopped caring about the time.

None of them looked up at the dark glass bubble in the far corner of the ceiling.

Three floors above, in the narrow CCTV control room, the night-shift operator sat forward in his chair.

The lower parking level feed had been quiet for most of the evening, then the motion alert had pinged. He had almost dismissed it as another late employee heading to their car.

He did not dismiss it now.

On the main monitor, five figures moved between the cars under the flickering fluorescent lights.

Clothes were open or pushed aside. One woman was on her knees and another was bent over a hood. Two men and a third figure in a leather jacket shifted positions with the kind of focus that left very little to the imagination.

The camera angle was high and slightly grainy, but not grainy enough.

The operator’s hand hovered over the radio.

He did not pick it up immediately.

He watched for another thirty seconds, long enough to see the man in the leather jacket pull the woman on the hood tighter against him, long enough to see the soft-looking one thrust up into the woman straddling him, long enough to confirm that this was not a trick of the light or a single couple who had gotten carried away.

His other hand moved to the keyboard. He isolated the camera, started a manual recording, and zoomed as far as the system would allow.

The timestamp in the corner kept ticking, the fluorescent light above the group flickered again, washing everything in brief, sickly white.

On the screen, the man in the leather jacket turned his head slightly, almost toward the camera, but not quite.

The operator finally reached for the radio.

He paused with his thumb on the button, eyes still fixed on the feed, and muttered under his breath to the empty room:

"You’ve got to be kidding me."

Then he pressed the transmit switch.

Down on parking level B2, none of the five heard the soft electronic click of a radio channel opening three floors above them.

They were still moving.

Still yes.

Still completely unaware that the blind spot had never been blind at all.