Deal him in

Ruby

Showtime.

Mike jumps backwards from the doors, which abruptly swing open just as he was reaching for the handle. Al and Ruby slide out to meet him. Ruby takes Mike under his arm, guiding him into the building. “Come right on in!” She purrs at him. He tenses to pull away, but Ruby gently strokes his arm to calm him. Her caress releases some chemicals in his brain, a nice cocktail of serotonin and dopamine to relax his flight-or-fight response. The mind-whammy they put on the newcomers helped to contain the freakouts, but this particular Harem Hotel location often gave them sensory overload to start.

Ruby had argued strenuously not to walk him through the gaming floor at his first reveal, but Al insisted that was how it had always been done. Convinced the Producers it made for better viewing, and besides, if Al was picking the Master, he wanted to reveal him Al’s way. His way was a disaster, but he’s committed to it.

At least Ruby was able to convince them to drop the Master further away, giving him some time to acclimate before putting him on camera. Given how Michael looked as he bathed in a cacophony of bells, cheers, music, and crashing chips, Ruby thought it may not have been far enough.

“Welcome to the Harem Hotel!” Ruby says. Bring his attention back to me. That should help. “I’m Ruby and this is Al, we’ll be your gracious hosts.”

“Uhh, ok. I’m not a guest here. …Actually, I think I just got mugged.” He stammered. Keep it together, big guy. We need to get a drink in his hand immediately.

“Mugged, Mikey baby? No way! You just hit the jackpot!” Al says from his right. Ruby gestures with her head and Al picks up her cue. Al grabs a martini from the tray of a passing cocktail waitress and shoves it into Michael’s hand. “Have a drink! Relax! This is gonna change your life!”

Michael moves to take a tentative sip, but stops short. “Yeah I could use-Wait… How do you-”

“Know your name? Michael Clark, we know a lot more than that, sweetie.” Ruby continued gently stroking his hand. Relax… Relax…

Before Michael could collect himself to ask another question, Ruby took a hard-left past the Craps tables, steering him off the casino floor through a set of double-doors and into the adjacent theater. Once the doors closed behind them, the chaos of the gaming floor went totally quiet and Michael visibly relaxed. At the moment, the stage curtains were closed, and the tables through the room were all empty.

“So…thanks for this.” Michael tipped up the martini. ”Since you know my name, I’m guessing the guys who robbed me must have come in here with my wallet? Can I have my stuff back please? I need to head home.”

“Slow down there, baby. Where’s the fire? I told ya out there that you weren’t mugged.” Al playfully slapped his back. “This is the Harem Hotel and-”

“I heard you the first time, and I told you I’m not a guest. ”

“You’re right,” Al says, “You’re not a guest, you’re way more than that. You’re the new Master.”

Michael pushes away and starts to turn for the door, “Master? Harem Hotel? Seriously? Look, thanks again for the warm welcome and the drink, but it sounds like you’re about to pitch me on a timeshare or an orgy and I’m really not in the mood for either.”

Take control of this. Ruby gently caressed his upper back to relax him again and get his attention off Al. It wasn’t good to hit him with her ability so many times this early in the show, but she needed him in a calmer place before the next part.

“Michael, you’re not going home. Not for now. Harem Hotel isn’t just a place, it’s a television show, and you are the star - the Master. In a few minutes, we’re going to bring out seven lovely ladies who will compete for you.”

“Compete? For me?” Michael asked. His tone sounds more accepting. This is good.

Ruby nodded. “We are building you a harem, and they will compete for favored positions.”

“In a harem?”

“In your harem. At the end of the show, all seven of them will be bound to you, ready to satisfy your every need.”

“Bound to me?”

“Don’t answer questions with questions, baby. Makes ya sound like an idiot.” Al interjected. “This ain’t complicated. Seven babes, all for you. Can you imagine? I’ll bet you have imagined more than once, am I right?”

Michael sat there for a long beat, weighing his answer. Finally, he shrugged and finished his martini in a single swig.

“You two freaks have a weird sense of humor. But it’s clear you’re not giving me my stuff back until I hear you out, so let’s get this over with.”

“About damn time.” Al waved his hand and the curtains opened, revealing a surprisingly minimalist set. The hosts led him up to the stairs to enter. To stage left, there were seven empty stools in front of a large light wall topped with another neon silhouette, this time a reclining nude woman. To stage right was a small armchair as one might find on the set of a basic cable talk show. A door opened on the stage rear, and above it they had hung a large, unflattering image of Michael’s face.

“Did you blow up my driver’s license photo?!”

Another thing Al was supposed to handle. What a lazy jerkoff. Ruby clapped her hands and a line of showgirls appeared from both sides of the stage. They wore only sequined bikini bottoms, one group in red with matching heart and diamond nipple pasties over their uniformly large breasts, and the others in black with a club and spade on theirs. The outfit was capped with matching gold feather headpieces and high heels. The lines of showgirls flowed by Michael, each of them caressing him with their hands as they passed. He tried to push each of their hands away.

One of the girls, a woman with smooth bronze skin and curly black hair poking out underneath the headpiece, ran her hands over Michael’s cheek, pulling his head to the side until they locked eyes. He stopped and stared for a beat.

“Hey…” He said with a hint of recognition, but Al walked him away before he could finish his comment.

“See Mikey! I knew if we took you to the buffet you’d find something you wanted to order!”

The hosts dropped Michael into the armchair and sat on either armrest.

“Tell the audience about yourself, Michael.”

“Audience?” Michael gestured to the empty room. As he did so, the doors opened and the crowd from the casino floor piled in, filling up all the unoccupied tables and the balcony.

“Woah, who the hell…” Michael started to stand.

“Sit down, please.” Ruby asked him delicately.

“Sit down now.” Al told him, not delicately at all.

When it was clear that he wasn’t going to listen, Al grabbed Michael’s shoulder, forcing him down into the seat with inhuman strength. “Continue.” The two men glared at each other. Fortunately, Michael saw reason.

“Whatever. My name is Michael Clark, I’m 41 years old and I live in L.A. I own Axiomatic, a small software company with a dozen employees. It’s Friday evening, so I was out having a drink and watching the Dodgers game when some assholes spiked my beer and dragged me here, probably working for you two. That’s my story.” He clapped sarcastically, and it was clear that he was done. But Al placed his hand over Michael’s arm and Michael lost the ability to stop. His eyes went wide and his mouth kept running. “But really I was there to get completely housed. My company is on the brink and I haven’t had the balls to tell my staff. My lead developer is a genius, but she’s a massive pain in the ass and despite her skill I don’t think we’ll get our next edition released on time. My former partner took our best leads to a competitor and fucked us into the ground. If I don’t find an angel investor by the end of 2022, then we’ll have to close up. My wife and I are separated since last year over an idiotic gambling spree, and I haven’t been with a woman since. I’ve been so goddamn lonely.”

Michael was abruptly released from the grip of the spell, and took a deep gasping inhale as he regained control of his body.

“I bet that feels good to get off your chest.” Al said.

“Wait a second…” Michael’s voice shook. “What’s…” He struggled with the after-effects of Al’s influence. Ruby rubbed the bridge of her nose. Al always hits them too hard, like mainlining adrenaline. Still, that was good, honest stuff Michael gave us. Just keep things moving.

The showgirls arrayed themselves in two lines, flaring out from the back of the stage to flank the door at the back.

“Girls… Somebody… call the police…” Mike gasped, reaching for them like a life preserver. “I’m being held against my will…”

“Mikey baby, I thought we were past this.” Al shot Ruby a withering look.

How is this my fault?

“Michael, this is important for you to hear. You are the star of this show, and the show will go on.” Ruby soothed. More caresses, more relaxation. “The Hotel and its staff provide what you require. All but your carnal needs, that’s what the contestants are for. If you need food, call room service and it will be delivered. If you need clothes, you can take anything you desire from our lovely shops. If you need a croupier, ask and one will be assigned. If you need to play eighteen holes, call the front desk and a golf course will appear on the grounds. If you need an audience,” She waved at the crowd, “They’ll fill the room. Everything is here for your enjoyment. However, nobody will interfere. They cannot interfere.” Michael was silent, but the look on his face showed his difficulty with processing that information.

“Enough foreplay, let’s bring out the broads.” Al produced seven playing cards and began dealing them into the air. They defied gravity, each flying above one of the empty stools and hovered there with its back to the audience. They expanded to roughly the size of a posterboard, three of them with a large A and four with an R printed on the back. When he spoke, Al’s voice was magically amplified to fill the room.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, without further ado, let’s meet the women seeking the Master’s heart! And… other parts of him.” The crowd chuckled. “Our first lady was selected by Ruby…” And the R card above the first stool pivoted in place to reveal the face of...