Call it a day.

Another wave of exhaustion hits you. In between your romps and engagements you realize that the day has taken a lot out of you, and you've scarcely managed to fully explore the building's nooks and crannies. How will you handle this much attention, you don't have much of an idea, but it's a bridge you're determined to cross only when you get there.

A short trip down to the basement afterwards, you set up a plate of instant mashed potatoes and mixed diced vegetables. You haven't lost your touch for simple cooking since your college days - for that matter, you can't really cook much else, but at least it's better than starvation. You take another shower as the meal warms up in the microwave and soon enough you're all ready for an evening of vegging out to the television.

Perhaps it's thanks to the day you had, but nothing on the screen catches your attention. What could compare to a day of dating and screwing three smoking hot females in a row? Hell, with your daily schedules the way they've been, you'd be sitting on ratings gold - if not for the fact you're not too inclined on telling anyone about your sweet gig.

You're content to simply recline the night away and fall asleep as you turn off the TV, but as you deposit your empty plate aside you hear a series of knocks on your door. You frown slightly; you'd rather be asleep right now until morning comes so you can screw the next day away too, but whoever's at your door wouldn't be here for a repair job at this hour... right?