Feelings Sometimes Hidden

They all waited with bated breath for the final guest to make themselves known. Several moments passed in anticipation, before the sound of heels could be heard against the cobblestone path. Once the figure came into view, their expressions changed to awe. Slender, long legs strode with purpose and grace. Golden hair hung in gentle waves down to her waist. She was dressed in finely tailored, yet unassuming business attire—a white blouse with a navy blazer and pencil skirt. Her alabaster skin glowed in the soft light of the pavilion. Icy blue eyes gazed, unreadable, across the faces staring back at her. While most were struck silent by the beauty of this new stranger, two in particular were shocked at the fact that they knew who this was.

“NATALIA VORONA?!” Adam and Cecilia shouted their astonishment in unison, then glancing at each other in surprise—both of them startled at the fact that Cecilia had regained the use of her voice, and Cecilia shocked that Adam also knew of the gorgeous woman in front of them.

“Oh? It would appear that our final guest for the evening has a couple of fans in attendance,” Sera took the liberty of moving forward with the introduction. “For those of you unaware, allow me to enlighten you. This is Natalia Vorona, a Russian model with an avid following online, both for her pinup work and a few cosplays. I’m so glad you could join us, Miss Natalia. Now, why don’t you take a seat, and I can ask you a few questions so we can all get to know you a bit better?” Natalia’s expression remained inscrutable, though her eyes narrowed somewhat, and darted a bit quicker as they glanced about the pavilion. She hesitantly took the final seat in the now completed circle.

“Sera! You’re being incredibly rude!” Cecilia rushed to assist the model as a few in attendance struggled not to roll their eyes at the hypocrisy of Cecilia chastising someone for their rudeness. “Everybody knows that she can’t speak any English! She needs her interpreter! Miss Vorona, do you need me to find Luiz for you? He should be here, right?” Cecilia had made a full transformation into a starstruck sycophant—a far cry from her earlier behavior.

“Oh, I hardly think that will be necessary, Miss Pine.” Sera’s eyes sharpened like a hunter who’d caught sight of their prey as she stepped closer. “After all, you’ve actually been hiding something, haven’t you? Perhaps the fact that you speak perfectly fluent English.” They could now make out the first emotion to clearly show on the model’s face since her arrival—panic.

“What on Earth are you talking about, Sera?! Cut this out immediately! What’s your deal, anyway?!” Cecilia was rapidly approaching her earlier peak in terms of anger.

“Oh, Miss Pine, you couldn’t begin to fathom ‘my deal.’ Or certainly not yet anyway. However, you should be questioning what Miss Natalia’s ‘deal’ is. Like, for example, the fact that her first language is English. Or that she can’t speak a word of Russian. Or that she’s never even been to Russia—never left the U.S. at all, for that matter. Isn’t that right, Miss Natalia? Or should I say… Miss Natalie?” With this, Natalia’s—or, supposedly, Natalie’s—composure broke. Her breathing quickened, and she looked frantically for a way out, but it was too late—Sera had already reached the model, gently placing a hand on her shoulder before leaning in to whisper in her ear.

“Would you rather reveal your secret to them yourself, or have me tell them? Either way, you won’t be able to hide your identity any longer. I imagine things will go more smoothly for you if you just come out and tell them the truth.” As Sera pulled away, Natalia Natalie tightly clasped her hands in front of her chest as her mouth opened and closed helplessly, struggling to form the words of the truth she was being **** to divulge. Her expression grew more and more pained until, finally, the dam burst.

“I’M REAL SORRY! I SWEAR I DIDN’T MEAN ANYTHING MALICIOUS BY IT! I NEVER EVEN WANTED TO LIE TO ANYBODY IN THE FIRST PLACE!” Even more startling than the sudden outburst was the voice it could be heard in. While everyone who knew of her expected a deep, sultry, mature Russian accent, she instead spoke in the voice of a youthful Southern belle.

Several hours earlier

Natalie Crowe

“Gosh dang it, Lewis.” Natalie looked, somewhat irritated, down at the plans for her next photoshoot on her phone… taking place in only a few hours, a fact that which she was chastising her manager for on speaker as she sat beside a suitcase on her bed. “I’d’ve appreciated a bit more heads up than this.”

“Sorry, Nat—I only just got the details this morning. I tried to negotiate for next week, but they said it absolutely had to be today. They even agreed to a 70% rush fee for the inconvenience.” Her half-Mexican roommate, manager, stylist, and best friend, Lewis Clark Ramirez—or, as her fans knew him, Luiz—had sprung these plans on her last minute. “But look at it this way: It’s just a couple days of shoots around their garden, then a free vacation where they’ll call on you maybe once or twice to reshoot if they need to change something. This is a great deal, Nat.”

Natalie was frustrated that everything Lewis just said was true. A local(ish) business had reached out to them the other day, asking her to model for some promotional images. It was for some bed and breakfast about an hour outside her current home city, Seattle. The photography team the bed and breakfast had hired, HH Stylish Shoots, assured her that she would be paid generously, and offered a free 90-day vacation there, with the stipulation that she might be called in for additional shoots if the need arose.

As she began packing while absentmindedly chatting with Lewis, she found herself having one of the many days where she wondered how she had let things go this far with her friend’s harebrained scheme. Originally just a half-drunk joke while complaining about finding new part-time jobs since neither of them wanted to work customer service during the pandemic, the plan of using her natural good looks and his interest in fashion to make money modeling quickly picked up momentum. Of course, he had had to do a lot of work talking her into it—she’d never been very outgoing, per se. He eventually got her to agree to the concept of her playing a role—Natalia Vorona, a mysterious, silent Russian beauty. Unfortunately, the plan worked a bit too well—she had amassed quite a large following online, and it soon reached the point where it was too late to simply reveal the truth without concerns of major backlash. Once they had started being inundated with interview requests, they came up with another lie—Luiz, her manager and interpreter (actually just Lewis putting on a Mexican accent) who “translates” as she whispers in his ear. Truly, neither of them had any idea how they made it so far with such a haphazard plan.

“Still, it’s a shame you can’t come with me. I don’t know how I’m gonna get through 3 months without accidentally spillin’ the beans if you’re not there to ‘translate’.” Natalie whined as she finished packing her suitcase.

“I know, but I’ve got too much stuff going on with my classes right now. God, we don’t all have coursework that can be finished halfway through the semester.” He clapped back in mock sass, to which she could only laugh.

“Sucks to be you, I guess. I’m gonna let you go, Lulu; I need to finish gettin’ dressed, or I’ll be catchin’ that Uber in my unmentionables.” She jokingly returned his jab before finishing the call, making sure to switch back to his nickname so he knew she wasn’t still upset with him. She then turned to her wardrobe, where the outfit Lewis had prepared for her hung, ready to be worn. Clothes were like armor to her, she loved who she became when she was wearing a nice outfit—confident and graceful, nothing like the stuttering wallflower she’d been as a kid (and, to a degree, still was). Donning her armor to deal with the challenges ahead of her, she made sure to put on sunglasses and a mask before heading out to catch her ride.

Present time

“Anyway—sniff—that’s about the gist of it.” Natalie, red-eyed and stuffed up from crying, concluded her summary of how Natalia Vorona came to be. “My name’s not actually Natalia Vorona; it’s Natalie Crowe. The last name was Lulu’s idea—he put ‘crow’ through Google translate. Also, I’m actually from Texas, not Russia. Though I am half-Russian… but that’s probably a story for another time.”

“Oh my God, Natalie—can I call you Nat? Anyway, thank you so much for trusting me with your secret. I promise I won’t tell a soul.” Cecilia (who had actually made Diona swap seats with her so she could sit next to her idol) reached out to place a comforting hand on Natalie’s arm, acting as if she was the only one whom the model divulged her secret to.

“Damn, that’s crazy,” Erica chimed in, unable to think of any response beyond that. “Don’t worry, Natalie, I don’t think anybody here is gonna give you crap about it. Hell, I’d never heard of you before today, so I’m not gonna get my panties in a twist about it.”

“Yes, I’m certain Miss Erica is right. I highly doubt any of your fellow guests will hold this against you.” Sera reassured her. “I’m sorry I had to **** the issue, but I’m afraid it was necessary for us to all move forward with the scheduled events. Now then, I have just a few more questions for us to finish getting to know you. Do you think you could answer them, dear?”

Natalie cautiously nodded in confirmation.

“Wonderful. We already know your name now, so could you please tell us your age, occupation, cup size, and most recent sexual encounter?”

Natalie had opened her mouth to speak before, upon realizing exactly what the questions were, she closed her mouth and vigorously shook her head, face scrunched in refusal.

“I’m afraid I must insist.” Sera pushed before being met with the same response. That's certainly unexpected. Even with the magic I cast over my garden lowering her inhibitions, she’s surprisingly stubborn. Sera found herself somewhat impressed at the girl’s willpower.

”Please answer the questions, Miss Natalie.” Sera was careful not to use as much **** as she had with Cecilia.

“I’m 27, working as a model while studyin’ part time for a degree in communication. I’m a D-cup, and I’ve never really been comfortable around other people—especially in that way, so I’m still a virgin.” Natalie finally responded before clasping her hands over her mouth, mortified.

“Thank you. Now then, with the arrival and introduction of our final guest out of the way, we’re finally ready to begin the ceremony proper.” Sera looked eager to begin whatever “ceremony” she was alluding to.

“Pray tell, what are we doing, exactly?” Elise was looking forward to finally being able to cast her verdict on whether she would be storming out of there.

“So glad you asked. First, why don’t we each chime in and say what all of us think we’re here for?” Sera smiled as she gestured for her guests to answer as they pleased.

“Job interview.”

“Vacation.”

“Art gallery.”

“Some business retreat, or whatever.”

“Continuing education course.”

“Dance school.”

“I was just trying to get some food.”

“Photo shoot.”

They all took turns, each giving wildly different answers, until the only guest remaining looked at them in confusion.

“What are you all talking about?” Diona asked as she pulled a folded piece of paper out of her ample cleavage. “This flyer I got told me I won a spot on some 18+ dating show. I was looking forward to getting to bang some hotties. Offer’s open anytime, by the way.” She propositioned them with a wink as she flashed a flyer that read “HH: Love Among the Lilies.”

“Diona is fundamentally correct, though her description doesn’t fully explain the honor being bestowed upon you. It is with great pleasure that I welcome you, my lovely guests, to the latest season of Harem Hotel!” Sera spread her arms in a grandiose gesture of excitement as her guests victims looked on in concern (and arousal, in Diona’s case).