Don't Let the Sun Go Down on Me

"I hate this," Emma whispered, her voice trembling slightly. The darkness of the elevator, combined with the lingering chill of her wet clothes, was starting to get to her.

"Me too," Turner replied, his voice low. He tightened his hold on her, trying to share what little warmth he had left. "But we'll be okay. They'll get the power back on soon. Especially since I'm sure this really isn't a power failure."

"What if they don't?" Emma asked, her voice laced with fear. "What if we're stuck here all night?"

"We won't be," Turner said, trying to sound more confident than he felt. "Someone will notice we're gone. Kendra will know, I bet she's the one that did this."

A tense silence fell between them, broken only by the faint hum of the emergency lights and the steady drip of water from their soaked clothes. Emma shivered, pulling Turner's polo shirt tighter around her.

"It's still cold," she murmured, her teeth chattering.

"I know," Turner said, his voice laced with concern as he started rubbing her back in an attempt to warm her up. "I wish I had something else to give you."

He paused, then reached up and gently brushed a stray strand of wet hair from her face. "You know," he said, his voice soft, "I'm really glad we had this date."

"Me too," Emma replied, her gaze meeting his. "Even with the… unexpected detour."

Turner chuckled softly. "Yeah, well, it wouldn't be a date on this show without some kind of unexpected twist, right?"

Emma managed a weak smile. "I guess not," she said.

Another silence fell between them, this time a little less tense. The close proximity, the shared warmth, and the lingering adrenaline from the storm had created a strange sense of intimacy.

"Emma," Turner began, his voice hesitant.

"Yeah?" she replied, her heart pounding slightly.

"I… I've been wanting to tell you something," he said, his gaze fixed on hers.

Emma's breath caught in her throat. "What is it?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

"I… I think you're amazing," he said, his cheeks flushing slightly. "You're funny, kind, and… and you always know how to make me smile."

Emma's eyes widened, a mixture of surprise and a warm, fluttering sensation spreading through her chest. "Turner," she breathed, her voice laced with disbelief. "I… I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything," he replied, his voice soft. "I just wanted you to know."

He paused, his gaze drifting to her lips. The air crackled with unspoken tension, the silence amplifying the unspoken emotions between them.

"Turner," Emma whispered again, her heart pounding against her ribs. She leaned in slightly, her gaze fixed on his.

He closed the remaining distance, his lips meeting hers in a soft, tentative kiss. It was a gentle kiss, a silent expression of the feelings that had been building between them.

The kiss deepened, becoming more passionate, more urgent. Emma's arms wrapped around Turner's neck, pulling him closer. The cold and the darkness faded away, replaced by the warmth of their embrace.

Suddenly, the elevator lurched again, the lights flickering back on. They jumped apart, their cheeks flushed, their breaths coming in short, rapid gasps.

"Oh," Emma said, her voice barely audible.

"Hey, finally moving," Turner replied, his gaze fixed on the floor.

The elevator doors slid open, revealing the dimly lit hallway of the penthouse. Becca stood there, arms crossed, her expression unreadable.

"Well, well, well," she said, her voice laced with light sarcasm. "Look who finally decided to join us."

Emma's heart sank. She'd been so caught up in the moment, she'd completely forgotten about Becca. Now, under the harsh glare of the hallway lights, the intimacy of the kiss felt exposed, ****. She braced herself for a barrage of insults, a storm of jealousy.

"Hey, Becca," Turner said, his voice a little too casual. He stepped out of the elevator, offering Emma a hesitant glance.

Emma followed, her gaze fixed on the floor. She couldn't bring herself to meet Becca's eyes.

"So," Becca said, her tone surprisingly neutral. "Stuck in the elevator, huh? Sounds… cozy."

Emma's head snapped up. Becca wasn't yelling? She wasn't even raising her voice.

"Yeah," Turner said, scratching the back of his neck. "It was… something."

"Something?" Becca raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement in her eyes. "Sounds like more than something. Especially considering you two look like you just finished a marathon."

Emma's cheeks flushed crimson. "It was just… cold," she stammered. "We were trying to stay warm."

Becca's gaze softened slightly. "Right," she said, a small smile playing on her lips. "Cold. Of course."

The orange-haired girl's eyes moved downward, seeing Emma's translucent shirt with Turner's polo shirt draped over her shoulders, causing Emma's cheeks to darken further.

"Look, Becca," Turner began, stepping forward slightly, "it wasn't like that. We were just—"

"I know, I know," Becca interrupted, waving a hand dismissively. "You were cold. And you were trying to stay warm. I get it. It's not like I haven't been stuck in a cold room or the rain with you before."

Emma's confusion deepened. Becca was being… understanding? It didn't make sense. She'd expected anger, jealousy, maybe even a physical confrontation. But this… this was something else entirely.

"So," Becca continued, her gaze shifting to Emma. "How was the date, aside from the impromptu elevator make-out session?"

Emma blinked, taken aback by the casual question. "It was… good," she managed, her voice still a little shaky. "We flew kites. It was fun."

"Kites?" Becca repeated, a hint of surprise in her voice.

"Yeah," Turner said, a small smile spreading across his face. "It was actually really fun. Until the storm, of course."

"Of course," Becca said, her gaze drifting towards the rain-streaked windows. "Kendra always has to ruin everything, doesn't she?"

A moment of shared understanding passed between the three of them. The tension in the air had dissipated, replaced by a sense of weary resignation.

"So," Becca said, breaking the silence. "Are you two going to stand there all night, dripping water all over the floor? Or are you going to come inside?"

"We're coming," Turner said, stepping further into the penthouse. He turned to Emma, offering her a reassuring smile. "Come on."

Emma hesitated for a moment, then followed him inside. She glanced back at Becca, who was watching them with a thoughtful expression.

"We should probably get you some dry clothes, Emma," Becca said, her gaze lingering on the soaked shirt. "You'll catch a cold."

Emma nodded, still slightly stunned by Becca's surprisingly calm demeanor. "Yeah, that would be great."

"I think I have something that might fit," Becca said, turning and heading towards the far wardrobe in the bedroom. "Follow me."

Emma exchanged a confused glance with Turner before following Becca. Becca rummaged through her closet, pulling out a soft, oversized hoodie and a pair of leggings.

"Here," she said, handing them to Emma. "These should keep you warm."

"Thanks," Emma said, taking the clothes. "This is really nice of you."

"Don't mention it," Becca said, her gaze shifting to the floor. "It's… the least I can do."

Emma changed quickly, the warm, soft fabric of the hoodie a welcome relief from her wet clothes. When she emerged from the bathroom, Becca was sitting on the edge of the bed, her expression still thoughtful.

"So," Becca began, her voice low. "About what happened in the elevator…"

Emma's heart skipped a beat. "Yeah?"

"I'm not… mad," Becca said, her gaze meeting Emma's. "Or jealous. Or anything like that."

Emma blinked, completely taken aback. "You're not?"

"No," Becca said, shaking her head. "I mean, I was a little surprised, I guess. But… things are different now."

"Different?" Emma repeated, her brow furrowed.

"Yeah," Becca said, her voice laced with a hint of vulnerability. "I've been… thinking a lot lately. About Turner, about us, about… everything."

She paused, taking a deep breath. "And I've realized that… I can't control everything. I can't control who Turner likes, or who he kisses, or… anything, really."

"Becca," Emma said, her voice soft. "That's… that's a really mature way of looking at things."

"Mature?" Becca scoffed, a small smile playing on her lips. "I wouldn't go that far. But I'm trying. Trying to be… less of a… well, you know."

"Less… Becca?" Emma suggested, her smile widening.

"Yeah, less Becca," Becca agreed, her smile turning genuine. "And more… I don't know, someone else, I guess."

"Well, that's some...welcome relief," Emma sighed. "Last week, you almost had my head for that. Twice."

"Yeah, well," Becca shrugged, a sheepish grin spreading across her face. "Last week was… last week. Didn't have that jealousy-nixing transformation. Besides," she added, her gaze drifting towards the window, where the rain was still coming down in sheets, "we're all in this together, right? We're all trying to figure things out."

"That's true," Emma agreed, nodding slowly. "And I appreciate you being...level-headed about this."

"Like I said, don't mention it," Becca said, her gaze returning to Emma. "Though," she added, a mischievous glint in her eyes, "I'm not going to pretend I'm thrilled about the whole 'kissing Turner in a dark elevator' thing. But, you know, whatever."

Emma chuckled, a wave of relief washing over her. "Yeah, well, it wasn't exactly planned," she said. "The elevator just… stopped."

"Right, right," Becca said, nodding quickly. "Kendra's little… power play, I'm guessing."

"Definitely," Emma agreed. "She's been trying to mess with my date all night."

"Well, she succeeded," Becca said, her voice laced with a hint of exasperation. "But at least you two got a… romantic moment out of it, right?"

"Hey you two," Turner announced his re-emergence from the bathroom, donning sweatpants and a graphic t-shirt. He stopped in front of Becca to give her a quick peck on the forehead, causing her to smile.

"Hey," Emma and Becca replied in unison, a comfortable silence settling over them as Turner sat between the two girls.

"Oh!" Emma's face brightened as she had an idea. "We should watch a movie! Have a proper movie night sleepover!"

"A movie night?" Turner repeated, a smile spreading across his face. "That sounds perfect. Especially after… everything."

"Yeah!" Emma exclaimed, her enthusiasm infectious. "We can make popcorn, get some snacks, and watch something fun!"

"Sounds good to me," Becca said, nodding in agreement. "I'm in the mood for something… lighthearted. No more drama for tonight, please."

"Definitely no drama," Turner agreed, glancing at the rain-streaked windows. "We've had enough of that for one day."

"I know just the thing," Emma said, jumping up from the bed. "I saw a comedy in the hotel's movie library earlier. It looked hilarious!"

She rushed to the hotel's library, her excitement filling the room. Turner and Becca exchanged a glance, a silent acknowledgment of the unexpected turn their evening had taken.

"You know," Turner said, his voice low, "I didn't expect this."

"Me neither," Becca replied, her gaze fixed on Emma's animated figure. "But it's… nice. It's like her and I are actually back to being…friends."

"Yeah," Turner agreed, his smile widening. "It is."

Emma returned, a DVD case in her hand. "Okay, I got it!" she announced, holding up the case. "It's called 'Space Ninjas vs. Alien Zombies.' It's supposed to be really cheesy."

"Cheesy?" Becca repeated, a hint of amusement in her voice. "Perfect."

Turner chuckled. "Sounds like our kind of movie."

They settled onto the bed, Emma inserting the DVD into the player. The opening credits rolled, accompanied by a hilariously bad theme song.

"This is going to be amazing," Emma said, her eyes sparkling with anticipation.

They spent the next few hours laughing, making sarcastic comments about the movie's ridiculous plot, and sharing snacks. The tension from the earlier elevator incident had completely dissipated, replaced by a comfortable, relaxed atmosphere.

At one point, Emma leaned against Turner, her head resting on his shoulder. Becca, sitting on the other side of him, didn't flinch. She simply continued watching the movie, occasionally adding her own witty remarks.

As the movie started reaching its climax, Emma yawned deeply as she started to drift off to sleep on his shoulder, clutching to him as if he was a pillow or stuffed animal. Her head started dropping lower until it was resting fully in his lap.

"Someone's tired," Turner murmured, gently stroking Emma's hair.

Becca glanced over, a soft smile playing on her lips. "She's had a long day," she said, her voice low. "And a long night, apparently."

Turner chuckled softly. "Yeah, she has," he agreed, his gaze fixed on Emma's sleeping face. "She was so excited about this movie night."

"She was," Becca said, her gaze drifting back to the screen. "It's nice to see her so… relaxed."

The movie reached its final scene, the space ninjas triumphantly defeating the alien zombies. The credits rolled, accompanied by the same hilariously bad theme song.

"Well," Becca said, stretching her arms above her head. "That was… something."

"Definitely something," Turner agreed, glancing down at Emma, who was still sound asleep. "She's out cold."

"Yeah," Becca said, her gaze softening. "We should probably get to bed soon."

"Agreed," Turner said, gently lifting Emma into his arms. "How...uh, is the sleeping situation gonna be the same as last night?"

"We can make it work," Becca said, her gaze fixed on him. "We've done it before."

Turner hesitated, then nodded slowly. "Okay," he said, carrying Emma towards the bed. "If you're sure."

"I'm sure," Becca said, her voice firm. "It'll be just like a sleepover."

Turner gently laid Emma on the bed, pulling the covers over her. Becca grabbed a spare pillow and blanket from the closet, placing them on the floor beside the bed.

"I'll take the floor," she said, her gaze meeting Turner's. "You can have the bed with Emma."

"Are you sure?" Turner asked, his voice laced with concern. "It's going to be uncomfortable."

"I'll be fine," Becca said, her smile widening. "Don't exactly want a repeat of last night especially given Emma's...well, you know."

"Yeah, I do know," Turner nodded.

She settled onto the makeshift bed on the floor, pulling the blanket around her. Turner sat on the edge of the bed, watching her with a thoughtful expression.

"You know," he said, his voice low, "you've been really… different tonight."

"Different?" Becca repeated, her brow furrowed. "How so?"

"More… understanding," Turner said, his gaze fixed on her. "More… relaxed."

"I told you," Becca said, her smile widening. "I'm trying to be… less Becca."

"I wouldn't say you're trying to be 'less Becca'," Turner said, his smile turning genuine, "I'd say this is just a...new side of you. I like this Becca."

Becca's cheeks flushed slightly. "Thanks," she murmured, her gaze drifting to the floor. "I'm glad."

A comfortable silence fell between them, broken only by the soft sounds of Emma's breathing and gentle rain outside. Turner leaned back against the headboard, his gaze drifting towards the rain-streaked windows. He was surprised that Kendra hadn't been trying to mess with them after the thunderstorm and the elevator ride. There were easily at least ten scenarios that could've happened as a result of Emma falling asleep on his lap, and none of them did. Maybe she was busy with something else right now?

---

The roar of the crowd was a distant hum, a muffled wave of sound that barely penetrated the bubble of disappointment that surrounded Anastasia. She sat on the edge of the bench, her leotard clinging to her damp skin, the chalk dust on her hands feeling gritty and unpleasant. The rhythmic clapping for the gymnast currently on the uneven bars seemed to mock her own performance.

Earlier, she had felt a flicker of hope, a surge of adrenaline as she stepped onto the floor. But the beam had wobbled under her, her dismount was sloppy, and the vault...oh, the vault. She could still feel the jarring impact in her knees. The numbers on the scoreboard glared back at her, a stark reminder of her failure. Seventh place. Even worse than last time.

"I'm just not good enough," she muttered under her breath, the familiar sting of frustration welling up inside her.

Her coach, a stern woman with eyes that seemed to miss nothing, offered a perfunctory pat on the shoulder. "You'll do better next time, Anastasia," she said, her voice devoid of any real warmth. It was the same thing she always said, the same empty encouragement that did little to soothe the ache of disappointment.

Anastasia watched the gymnast finish her routine, the crowd erupting in cheers. She **** a smile, clapping politely, but her heart wasn't in it. She knew she was capable of more, she had the talent, the strength, but something was holding her back. Was it nerves? Lack of focus? Or was it something deeper, a lack of passion that she was afraid to confront?

As the meet wound down, the other gymnasts chattered excitedly, celebrating their victories or commiserating their losses. Anastasia felt like an outsider, a ghost drifting through the room. She gathered her things, the weight of her gym bag feeling heavier than usual.

Outside, the cool evening air offered a brief respite from the stuffy atmosphere of the gymnasium. She walked slowly, her gaze fixed on the ground, the neon lights of a nearby convenience store casting long shadows on the sidewalk.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket. It was a text from her mother, a string of Russian characters that Anastasia already knew by heart: "Call me. Now."

Anastasia sighed, pulling out her phone. She knew what this was about. Her mother had been pressuring her to apply for internships, to start thinking about her future. But Anastasia wasn't ready to settle down. She wasn't ready for the nine-to-five grind, the predictable routine. She wanted adventure, excitement, something that would ignite the fire within her.

As she dialed her mom's number, she remembered the woman from the party. Kendra. Her words echoed in Anastasia's mind: "A chance to break free... A chance to experience something extraordinary."

The offer, which had seemed outlandish and improbable just one day earlier, now held a strange allure. The structured world of gymnastics, the endless cycle of training and competition, felt suffocating. Maybe, just maybe, there was something more out there. Something that would finally make her feel alive.

Anastasia pressed her phone to her ear, the familiar sound of her mother's voice, sharp and laced with worry, cutting through the ambient noise of the street. But this time, as her mother's words washed over her, Anastasia's thoughts drifted back to Kendra's enigmatic smile and the promise of an escape. The seed of curiosity, once small and hesitant, had begun to sprout.

She turned the key to her townhouse, pushing opening the door after the telltale click. Her own place, which had seemed so pristine in the morning, now looked dark and depressing. It was like once she started noticing her gymnastics mistakes, she'd started noticing all of the other mistakes. The dirty dishes in the sink, the blankets strewn haphazardly on the couch, that one spot in the kitchen she'd forgotten to vacuum.

She flicked on the light, the sudden brightness jarring after the dim streetlamps. The townhouse, usually a haven of solitude, now felt like a cage, each neatly arranged object a reminder of her predictable life. She tossed her gym bag onto the floor, the thud echoing in the quiet space.

Her mother's voice still echoed in her ears, a constant drone of expectations and anxieties. Anastasia walked to the kitchen, the sight of the dirty dishes amplifying her sense of unease. She wanted to wash them, to restore order, but her limbs felt heavy, her motivation drained.

She sank into a kitchen chair, pulling her phone from her pocket. The screen lit up, displaying a missed call from an unknown number. Anastasia hesitated, then tapped the voicemail icon.

"Anastasia," a voice smooth as warm butter filled the kitchen, nearly hypnotic. "It's Kendra, darlin'. I reckon you're givin' my offer some thought. I know you're carryin' the weight of expectations, that gnawin' feelin' of potential left on the vine. I can offer you a different path, a chance to write yourself a whole new story."

The voicemail ended, leaving Anastasia in a stunned silence. Kendra's voice, even through the tinny speaker of her phone, held a strange power, a seductive promise of something unknown.

She stared at the phone, her mind racing. Kendra's words resonated with her, echoing the doubts and desires she had been suppressing for so long. Was it really possible to break free, to escape the confines of her current life?

That was the last thought she had before she felt herself fall, her phone clattering to the ground as she followed suit, but never actually did end up hitting the cold, hardwood floor.

---

Anastasia awoke to a blindingly bright light, a stark contrast from the toned-down mood lighting that permeated her townhouse. After blinking a few times to adjust her eyes to the change in light, she looked around her.

"Welcome to Harem Hotel," a robotic voice announced.

Briefly ignoring the robotic voice, Anastasia saw her surroundings were similar to that of a solitary confinement room. Four off-white walls, a white roof, and white linoleum flooring. The only object to break up the color was a folding table directly in the middle, papers sitting on it that looked a lot like some forms she had to sign. She tried the door. Locked.

"Wait, did you say 'Harem Hotel'?" she asked, but never got a response.

Flipping through the pages quickly, she tried to glean as much information as possible from the documents. Something about a resort with a harem master, a reality show, and a resort.

"Reality show, huh?" she chuckled darkly. "Is this what Kendra had in mind for me? How the fuck did I even get here?"

Finding no other alternative, she signed her name at the bottom of the page, and the door leading out of the room responded with a telltale click, identical to the one she'd heard a few minutes prior when unlocking the door to her house.

"Thank you for signing, and enjoy your time on Harem Hotel," the robotic voice said again as Anastasia exited the room.

She was met with...paradise. A grand palace-like structure laid in front of her, with majestic views of an island vista. Outside, several paths were lined with stepping stones, creating trails throughout a plaza area, with a pool, tiki bar, dining area, everything you could want in a vacation.

Then, in the middle of the gazebo, Anastasia saw her. Kendra, the same dark-skinned bombshell of a woman from the night before, the one who had called her just minutes prior. Likely the reason she was here.

"Ah, Anastasia," Kendra began, her Southern drawl oozing out of every syllable. "Was wonderin' when you'd turn up."

"Turn up?" Anastasia echoed, her voice laced with a mixture of confusion and annoyance. "Turn up where? What is this place? And how did I get here?" She gestured around the opulent courtyard, her eyes wide with disbelief. "One minute I'm in my kitchen, the next I'm… here. Did you **** me?"

Kendra chuckled, a low, melodic sound that seemed to vibrate through the air. "**** you? My dear, I simply offered you an opportunity. A chance to escape the humdrum and embrace the extraordinary." She gestured towards the palace-like structure. "This is Harem Hotel, a place where dreams come true, and boundaries are… well, let's just say they get a little blurry."

"Dreams?" Anastasia scoffed, crossing her arms. "This is some kind of twisted reality show, isn't it? I saw the forms. A harem master? Seriously?"

"Indeed," Kendra replied, her smile widening. "And you, Anastasia, are now a contestant. A chance to write yourself a new story, just like I promised. To find the fire and excitement you crave."

"Contestant?" Anastasia repeated, her voice rising. "I didn't agree to this! I didn't even know what I was signing!" She waved the signed forms in the air. "This is crazy!"

"Crazy?" Kendra tilted her head, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Or perhaps… liberatin'? Think of it, Anastasia. No more tight schedules, no more disappointin' scores. Just pure, unadulterated experience." She stepped closer, her voice droppin' to a seductive whisper. "And the chance to find out who you truly are."

Anastasia took a step back, her gaze fixed on Kendra. "Who I truly am?" she asked, her voice laced with skepticism. "By being… what? A glorified concubine on some trashy reality show?"

"That's a rather… harsh way of puttin' it," Kendra said, her smile never faltering. "Think of it as an exploration. A journey of self-discovery. And besides," she added, her eyes glintin', "you signed the forms, didn't you?"

Anastasia's jaw tightened. "You manipulated me," she accused, her voice trembling with anger. "You knew I was ****. You took advantage of me."

"****?" Kendra raised an eyebrow. "Or… receptive? You were searchin' for somethin', Anastasia. Somethin' more. And I simply provided the way." She gestured to the island paradise around them. "Look around you. This is an opportunity most folks would kill for. A chance to break free from their chains."

"My limitations?" Anastasia scoffed. "My limitation was thinking you were offering something real! You're a liar, a manipulator, and I want out of here!"

"Out?" Kendra's smile faded slightly, replaced by a cool, calculated expression. "My dear Anastasia, you misunderstand. Once you've stepped through those doors, there ain't no turnin' back. You're here now. And you'll play by my rules." She walked closer, her voice dropping to a low, dangerous tone. "Or you'll find that 'reality' can be far more… unpleasant than you ever imagined."

Anastasia stood her ground, her eyes blazing with defiance. "You can't **** me to do anything," she said, her voice laced with determination. "I'm not some puppet you can control."

"You ain't?" Kendra asked, her voice laced with a hint of amusement. "Now we'll see about that." She snapped her fingers, and Anastasia's body went limp, floating over to the couch where the other ten contestants had sat at the beginning, and dropped down on the sofa.

Anastasia's eyes widened, a jolt of fear running through her as she felt her body move against her will. "What did you do?" she gasped, her voice strained. "I can't move!"

Kendra's smile returned, a predatory gleam in her eyes. "Just a little… persuasion," she purred, her voice laced with amusement. "A reminder of who's in control." She circled Anastasia, her gaze lingering on her face, her body. "You see, Anastasia, you ain't just a contestant. You're a piece of the puzzle. A vital piece."

"Puzzle?" Anastasia repeated, her voice laced with confusion. "What puzzle?"

"The puzzle of desire," Kendra replied, her voice dropping to a low, seductive whisper. "The intricate dance of power and pleasure. And you, my dear, have a unique role to play."

"I don't want any part of your twisted games," Anastasia said, her voice filled with disgust. "Let me go."

"Let'cha go?" Kendra chuckled, a low, throaty sound that echoed through the courtyard. "But where's the fun in that? You're just gettin' started, Anastasia. You have so much to discover. So much to experience." She leaned closer, her breath warm against Anastasia's ear. "And I intend to guide you every step of the way."

"Guide me?" Anastasia scoffed, her voice laced with skepticism. "You mean manipulate me. Control me."

"Perhaps a little," Kendra admitted, her smile widening. "But think of it as… accelerated growth. A chance to shed your inhibitions and embrace your true potential."

"My potential?" Anastasia repeated, her voice trembling with anger. "This isn't potential. This is… this is…"

"Entertainment?" Kendra suggested, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Drama? Intrigue? All the elements of a compelling story. And you, Anastasia, are now a main character."

"I don't want to be a character in your story," Anastasia said, her voice filled with desperation. "I want to go home."

"Home?" Kendra tilted her head, her gaze drifting towards the palace. "But you are home, sugar. This is where you belong. Where you can finally be free as a bird."

"Free?" Anastasia repeated, her voice laced with disbelief. "I'm a prisoner!"

"A prisoner of your own heart's desires," Kendra countered, her voice soft with pity. "You were searchin' for somethin' more, darlin'. Somethin' to set your soul on fire. And I've given you that chance. All you gotta do is grab it with both hands."

Anastasia sat there, fuming. Her gymnastics leotard had never felt so constricting before, even after she found out she placed poorly at the meet earlier that day.

"Who...who is the so-called Harem Master?" she managed.

"Why, I'm so glad you asked," Kendra responded with glee, happy that the new contestant seemed to be coming around. "He's actually someone you met 'bout a year ago, at a college shindig, I believe? Turner Andrews."

"Turner..." she wracked her brain, trying to remember who that was.

"At 'Roofie Rho'," Kendra clarified.

"Oh yeah, the analyst guy who told me to just wing it," Anastasia answered. "Wait, you brought him here?"

"Indeed we did," Kendra answered.

"And he's... the harem master?" Anastasia asked, her voice incredulous. "That's absurd. He barely spoke to me at that party. He seemed more interested in analyzing the punch than talking to people."

Kendra chuckled, a low, throaty sound that vibrated through the air. "Appearances can be deceivin', sugar. Turner possesses a unique… charisma. A certain… allure. He has a way of understandin' folks, of seein' their deepest desires. And he's mighty adept at… fulfillin' 'em."

"Fulfilling desires?" Anastasia scoffed. "My experience with him didn't exactly amount to any of this so-called 'fulfilling desires'."

"Maybe 'cause y'all only chatted for a minute or two," Kendra shrugged. "Anyways, follow me to your livin' space."

Begrudgingly, Anastasia got up out of her seat and followed her along the boardwalk. The pristine beach looked absolutely stunning in the moonlight, but that didn't make up for the fact that she was here against her will.

"And here we are!" Kendra suddenly stopped in front of the first house on the row. "Your roommate is Paige, Turner's ex-girlfriend. She was originally roomin' with Becca, Turner's current girlfriend, but Becca got eliminated, so we had a spare space for you!"

"Paige?" Anastasia asked, her voice laced with surprise. "Turner's ex? You're putting me in a room with his ex?"

"Indeed," Kendra said, her smile widening. "Think of it as an opportunity for… bondin'. Or perhaps, a chance to gather information. After all, you'll need allies in this game."

"Allies?" Anastasia repeated, her gaze fixed on the bungalow. "This isn't a game. It's a nightmare."

"A nightmare or a dream, it all depends on how you look at it, darlin'." Kendra placed a hand on Anastasia's shoulder, which made Anastasia shiver despite her trying to resist. "Now, go on. Paige is waitin'." Kendra gave her a gentle push toward the door. "And Anastasia, remember, you are here to explore your desires. Don't be afraid to embrace 'em. You might be surprised at what you find."

Anastasia hesitated, then reluctantly walked towards the bungalow, her mind racing. She couldn't believe she was trapped in this bizarre reality show, **** to share a room with Turner's ex-girlfriend. But as she reached the door, a flicker of curiosity sparked within her. What was Turner really like? And what would his ex-girlfriend be like? Could meeting these new people here be an opportunity for...more connection?