Urban System in America
Chapter 219 - 218: Invitation To Debauchery

Chapter 219: Chapter 218: Invitation To Debauchery

The air pulsed with music—sensual, slow, and hypnotic. It wasn’t loud, but it wormed into Rex’s ears and wrapped around his thoughts.

People were high. People were moaning. People were grinding. This wasn’t a party anymore.

It was a ceremony of indulgence.

Golden curtains swayed as bodies moved through them, hands clutching whatever or whomever they desired. Rex could only stare, wide-eyed and rooted in place.

He had heard of these things before—dark rumors from the fringes of Hollywood lore. Stories passed down in anonymous forums and whispered in greenrooms: secret parties, ritualistic hedonism, moral abandon draped in velvet and diamonds. He always thought it was exaggerated tabloid nonsense, like the stories about celebrities being reptiles or secret cults in the hills.

But this?

He had thought that they were merely exaggerated rumors.

But this!

This was real.

This was happening.

And it hadn’t even been that long since the party started.

He stood frozen just past the threshold, shocked, his heart thudding in disbelief. Eyes wide, mouth half open, Rex looked like someone who had stepped into the wrong side of a fantasy—and realized far too late that he didn’t belong.

Most of the people in the room didn’t even notice him. Or maybe they didn’t care. They were too busy. Too high. Too lost in their own pleasure or ambition or whatever reason had brought them here. One man licked whipped cream off another’s chest. A woman in a half-mask giggled as she blew glitter over a lounging couple wrapped in velvet ropes. There were gasps, moans, the muted clink of glasses—every sound feeding into a decadent symphony of indulgence.

Those who did glance his way offered lazy smirks, as if inviting him to strip and join the tableau.

Eyes, glossy from narcotics or raw lust, tracked him with idle curiosity—like spotting an interesting appetizer on an already overflowing buffet table. A woman with platinum hair, glitter smeared across her collarbones, and dangerously tall red stilettos waltzed up to him, her hips swaying to a rhythm only she could hear. With a sultry smile, she extended a lollipop dipped in something neon blue and fizzing faintly.

Rex recoiled like it was radioactive. "I’m good," he blurted, hands up like she was aiming a weapon. His terrified shake of the head only made her giggle harder, the lollipop twirling between her manicured fingers as she shrugged and, with a sultry smirk, seductively swallowed it herself. Then, stumbling on her high heels with a tipsy laugh, she tumbled straight into the lap of a man nearby—an unmistakably famous actor, recognizable even under the dim, smoky light. They locked eyes for half a second before she grabbed his face and pulled him into a heated kiss like they were the last two people on earth with lips. The room barely blinked. It was just another moment in a long string of decadence.

He stood there, motionless, his brain buffering like a crashed computer.

He had thought the poolside spectacle—with its glistening bodies, vintage champagne, and old billionaires being hand-fed grapes by models—had already set a new world record for opulence.

But this? This wasn’t excess. This was a whole new genre.

A woman caught his eye. Correction: a goddess dipped in decadence. Crimson lipstick, nothing but a diamond necklace draped over her collarbone like a trophy ribbon, and a smile that looked like it had been built entirely out of seduction and softly whispered bad decisions. She tilted her head ever so slightly, giving him a lazy wink that felt more like a command than an invitation.

Rex blinked. His brain short-circuited. He took an instinctive step back, heart pounding. It wasn’t just a flirtatious gesture—it felt like she’d thrown a grenade made of pheromones and velvet stares. He instinctively took a step forward, drawn by something primal. Maybe it’s the atmosphere, maybe it’s the pheromones, or maybe it’s the weird perfume mingling in the air, but at that moment, he felt almost hypnotized.

The woman’s smile deepened, sultrier, more inviting—until, without warning, a pot-bellied man beside her yanked her toward him. She collapsed into his arms without resistance, she didn’t protest. In fact, she barely noticed. Her limbs melted against him like she’d been waiting for someone—anyone—to fill that space. Her lips found his with mechanical precision, and soon they were locked together in a feral kiss that looked more animalistic than romantic, moaning lazily as they began to make out like no one else was in the room.

Her eyes, half-lidded and glassy, didn’t even register who the man was.

The spell shattered.

Rex staggered back, the illusion crumbling around him like broken glass. He instantly stepped back, as though reality had just slapped him across the face.

A chill spidered down his spine, like icy fingers tracing his neck. He felt the heat of shame—not his own, but the shame of witnessing something so hollow, so transactional, it left a bad taste in his mouth.

He turned, fully intending to vanish like a polite ghost, but his heel caught a plush cushion and nearly sent him tumbling.

A chuckle drifted through the haze. One of the masked men, half-shrouded behind a silk divider, leaned forward lazily.

"New here?"

Rex straightened, his heartbeat erratic, the pulse in his neck thudding with adrenaline.

"Just lost," he managed, voice tight but composed, regaining his balance with as much dignity as a man could summon after nearly face-planting in an orgy den.

The man gave a slow, almost wistful nod. "Aren’t we all."

Then, without missing a beat, he added with a crooked smile, "People like to pretend there are rules. Laws. Morals. That there’s a line you shouldn’t cross. But deep down? Everyone just wants to be free. To feel something real. To taste what’s forbidden, even if it rots you from the inside."

His voice was calm, as if he were reciting a truth, he’d made peace with long ago. "You get one life. That’s it. One shot. So why not take what you want? Why waste it living for someone else’s approval? Why cling to rules written by people too afraid to live? Do what makes you feel alive. Indulge. Break the rules. Burn the manual they handed you at birth. Even if it’s wrong. Even if it’s ugly. Because in the end, there’s no prize for behaving. There’s only what you did—and what you didn’t dare to do."

(End of Chapter)