THE SWAPARTY : CHAPTER 8
PHNXpiyush | Omegatglul

Author’s Note:

This chapter is a direct continuation of Freya’s and Peter’s storyline since chapter (4 and 5), read that again to get a better view of the story.

Previously on SwaParty :

Peter as Katrina was Punished and humiliated by the manger, while Freya has successfully initiated the plan to get Aaliyah around her finger for her revenge.

CONTINUATION:
Freya and Aaliyah at poolside after chapter 6:

Aaliyah’s eyes widened, her glittery makeup catching the strobe lights as she hung onto every word Freya whispered.

"Wait, for real? A waitress? And she'll just swap with me?"

Freya nodded, her expression cool, calculated, and dripping with venom.

"Aaliyah, look at how restricted this place is. You want to rub shoulders with Millie Blue and those celebs in the VIP lounge? You need a way in. The manager has a massive fucking hard-on for the staff, specifically Katrina. If you swap with her, you’ll walk right in, get him to cream his pants, and have him begging to unlock the VIP doors for you. Once you’re in there, you can force-swap with any celebrity you want."

Aaliyah squealed, her braids swinging.

"You’re a fucking genius! I’ll be the VIP queen tonight! I’ll get in there, let the manager get his handsy fix, and then—boom—I'm a goddamn superstar."

Freya forced a smile, hiding the bitter taste of her own deceit. She knew exactly what kind of predatory, perverse shit the manager pulled behind those office doors. She remembered how he’d cornered her, grabbing her ass, openly boasting about the "punishment" he had waiting for that waitress. It was a perfect, dark irony—Aaliyah wanted to be the hunter, but she was about to walk straight into the manager's favorite den of abuse. Freya didn't know the manager had already brutally punished Peter-as-Katrina, but she knew the manager was pissed off and looking for blood.

That was enough.

They started by scanning the party floor, searching for the "waitress." Freya was growing anxious; she’d left Peter-as-Katrina near the bathrooms, but the crowd was a shifting sea of neon and sweat.

Where the hell did that idiot go? She had no clue the bartender had already dragged "Katrina" backstage by her hair.

They approached the bar, where the stunning bartender was busy juggling three orders at once. Freya stepped up, leaning in with a practiced, sisterly charm. …