By the time the trio had settled into their intoxicating rhythm, the outside world began to notice. Not the tabloid-level gossip—Simon was too powerful, and they were too discreet for that—but subtle shifts: lingering glances at industry events, whispered questions from close colleagues, the occasional raised eyebrow from Mia when all three left the office together for "lunch meetings" that lasted three hours.
Simon's golden intuition registered it all without alarm. If anything, it thrilled him. His empire wasn't just growing in valuation; it was expanding in ways money couldn't buy.
The true deepening of their trio happened gradually, through small, perfect moments that stacked like compound interest.
One random Tuesday night, after a long day of back-to-back meetings, Simon came home to find Lily and Betty already in his penthouse. They'd let themselves in with the keys he'd given them weeks ago—a quiet milestone no one had made a big deal about, but everyone felt.
They were in the kitchen, wearing nothing but his oversized dress shirts—Lily in charcoal, Betty in white—hair damp from the shower, laughing over a disastrous attempt at homemade pasta. Flour dusted the counter, sauce splattered the stove, and the air smelled like garlic, tomatoes, and them.
"Welcome home, boss," Lily teased, tossing a dish towel at him. "We tried to cook. Emphasis on tried."
Betty turned, cheeks flushed from wine and embarrassment. "It's edible. Barely."
Simon dropped his briefcase, loosened his tie, and pulled them both into his arms. "This," he said, breathing them in, "is better than any Michelin star."
They ate the slightly burned pasta on the terrace anyway, barefoot, shirts slipping off shoulders, feeding each other forkfuls between kisses. When Betty accidentally got sauce on her chin, Lily leaned over to lick it off—slow, deliberate. Simon watched, heat pooling low, as Betty's eyes darkened and she pulled Lily into a proper kiss.
Dinner forgotten, they ended up on the living room rug again—Lily on her back, Betty between her legs tasting her for the first time without Simon directing. Simon knelt behind Betty, entering her slowly while she moaned into Lily. The chain of pleasure—Simon thrusting into Betty, Betty's tongue on Lily—felt sacred. When Lily came first, arching with a cry, it triggered Betty, clenching around Simon until he followed, burying himself deep with a groan.
After, they lay tangled, city lights painting patterns on their skin.
"I love watching you two," Simon admitted, voice rough. "It's the hottest thing I've ever seen."
Lily grinned lazily. "We've been practicing. For science."
Betty hid her face against his chest. "I was nervous. But… God. She tastes amazing."
The women's connection was blossoming independently now—texts during the day that Simon wasn't copied on, coffee dates he didn't attend, inside jokes that made him the butt of affectionate teasing. It didn't threaten him; it turned him on. His intuition whispered: this is healthy. This is rare.
They formalized it one weekend with a "relationship summit"—Lily's joking term—at a secluded cabin upstate. No phones, no work, just them.
Friday night arrived with rain lashing the windows. They built a fire, opened wine, and laid ground rules on the plush rug.
"Check-ins," Lily said seriously. "Weekly. No bottling shit up."
"Date nights," Betty added. "One-on-one and all three. Balance."
"Safe words and boundaries," Simon contributed. "Always."
They wrote them on paper, burned it in the fire like a ritual. Then celebrated with slow, worshipful sex by firelight—Simon taking his time with each woman separately while the other watched, then all together in a tangle of limbs and whispers.
Saturday was lazy: breakfast in bed, reading aloud from a steamy novel Lily brought (they acted out favorite scenes), long baths where two bathed the third. Afternoon brought exploration—Betty shyly introducing a double-ended toy she'd bought, Lily guiding her through using it while Simon watched and stroked himself. The sight of them moving together, connected, faces flushed with pleasure, nearly undid him before he even touched them.
Sunday morning, they woke to snow. Built a fire again, made love in front of it—gentle, sleepy, laughing when positions collapsed. Afterward, wrapped in blankets, they talked future.
"Kids?" Betty asked quietly. "Someday?"
Lily and Simon exchanged a look.
"Maybe," Lily said. "Not soon. But… yeah. With the right setup."
Simon nodded. "I want that too. Eventually."
The conversation flowed to living arrangements—keeping separate places for space, but more nights together. Travel plans—Paris for Lily's birthday, Tokyo for a tech conference they'd all attend.
Back in the city, the trio's introduction to each other's worlds accelerated.
Lily brought Betty to a design networking event—both stunning in cocktail dresses, turning heads. Simon watched from across the room as they charmed clients together, Lily's hand on Betty's lower back, Betty laughing at Lily's sarcasm. Later, in the cab home, Betty straddled Simon while Lily kissed her neck, whispering how proud she was.
Betty hosted a small dinner party at her loft for her closest friends—introducing Lily as "my partner's incredible girlfriend" and Simon as "the boss who's actually human." Her friends adored them, picking up on the chemistry without needing details. One tipsy friend pulled Betty aside: "Whatever you're doing, keep doing it. You're glowing."
Simon took them both to a WestTech team-building retreat in the Catskills. Officially, Lily was there as UI consultant, Betty as CFO. Unofficially, they shared a cabin. Nights were spent pushing boundaries—outdoor sex under stars (risky, thrilling), roleplay where Betty "reported" to both bosses, Lily using a strap while Simon watched and directed.
The retreat's trust-fall exercises took on new meaning when the three of them literally fell into each other's arms during a group activity, laughing while colleagues looked on in confusion.
Challenges arose, of course.
Jealousy flickered once when Simon and Betty had to travel to San Francisco for investor meetings—three days apart from Lily. Video calls helped (very explicit ones), but Lily admitted feeling left out upon their return.
They fixed it with a "Lily night"—both of them devoted entirely to her pleasure: hours of oral, toys, overstimulation until she was a sobbing, blissful mess begging for mercy they didn't grant until she'd come five times.
Another time, Betty overheard office gossip implying she'd slept her way into the CFO role. She came home devastated.
Simon and Lily tag-teamed comfort: bubble bath, massages, then slow, reverent sex where they both told her repeatedly how brilliant she was, how deserved, until she was crying from release and validation.
The trio's introduction wasn't just physical or emotional—it was practical.
They created a shared calendar (color-coded, naturally). Invested in a bigger bed for the penthouse. Started a group chat called "Empire Builders" that was 30% logistics, 70% nudes and memes.
Sex evolved too. They'd mastered the basics; now came advanced levels.
One night, Lily orchestrated double penetration—Simon in Betty's pussy while Lily used a strap in her ass. Betty came so hard she blacked out for seconds, waking laughing and crying.
Another time, Betty surprised them with a Sybian in the bedroom—riding it while Simon and Lily took turns with her mouth and breasts.
Simon introduced tantric practices he'd read about—edging for hours, eye contact, breathing together. The orgasms when they finally allowed release were earth-shattering.
Through it all, their bond strengthened.
At a rooftop party celebrating ErosAI hitting 50 million users, they stood together watching the city sparkle below.
"This," Simon said, arm around each woman, "is my real empire."
Lily raised her glass. "To us."
Betty clinked hers against theirs. "To the weirdest, best thing I've ever been part of."
They drank, then snuck away early—to the penthouse, to each other.
The trio's introduction was complete.
They weren't just three people having great sex.
They were a unit. A family. A force.
And whatever came next—business crises, societal judgment, the complexities of their unconventional love—they'd face it together.
With open hearts, open minds, and very open bedrooms.