Got to go fight some crime

Still breathing heavily from the exertion, you lean forward and kiss Hannah on her tear-stained cheek before standing up.

"What the fuck was that?" Hannah asks Rose, sniffling through her tears. She sat up cross-legged and pried open her pussy with one hand, examining your cum trickling out of her.

"I don't know exactly... But he's real. He just fucked me right before you showed up. I had ****," Rose says, looking embarrassed.

"Rose," you spoke aloud for the first time in front of Hannah. The younger woman nearly jumped out of her skin as her eyes darted around trying to find you. "Write your contact information and address down for me."

Without standing up, Rose reached over to her purse, pulling out a small notepad and pen. She wrote down what you had demanded, tore the page out, and stuck her hand out in the direction of your voice. You grabbed the piece of paper and stuck it in the pocket of your new jeans. From the perspective of the ladies, all they saw was the paper floating in the air, before disappearing near the chair.

You start to get dressed as the women remained seated on the floor. Then you remember one more thing. "Rose, do you have a picture of your husband in your purse? What's his name?" you ask.

She nods, confused at your questions, "Philip O'Brien."

"Give it to me, and write down where he's staying in Italy," you request.

Rose's eye narrow, trying to figuring out why you want to know how to find her husband, but she complies. When she hands you the picture from her purse, you see a younger Rose with a tall handsome man. They looked like the perfect couple, and you wonder why her husband would neglect her.

"Rose, sorry about your husband and anniversary. I'll take care of his affair. Hannah, have a great spring break. Trust me, the boys will lose their shit over that pussy of yours. I have both of your details and I'll visit you soon."

"Wait! How will I find you?" Rose says urgently.

"You won't."

You teleport to the middle of Times Square and become visible at the same time. There are so many people at this hour that nobody notices you appearing out of nowhere. Time for some crime fighting.

For the next few hours, using all the powers of your magic rings, you stop several crimes, including a mugging, a snatch and run, and even save a man who was standing on top a building who was going to jump to his ****. Each time, you stick around to take credit without explaining how exactly you accomplished the feats, talking to the responding police officers and a couple of reporters.

By mid-afternoon, when you check social media, your name is trending in New York City. People are singing praises of you, and have even started posting pictures of your sightings. The headline story of the New York Tribune website dubs you as their own hero-reporter, with a quote from Laura Bylines talking about her own brilliance in hiring you. You laugh at the irony.

At around 5 in the afternoon, you decide that you've done enough good for the day, after you pulled a man out of a burning vehicle. The firefighters who got there even thanked you and asked you for a group selfie. You check the timezones on your phone, and realize it's about 11pm in Italy. Rose's husband should be getting in around now.

Finding an isolated alleyway, you activate the teleportation ring and are transported to the city center of Milan. You had been there two years ago on a family vacation, so it was easy to conjure up the image in your mind for the teleportation to work. Hailing a cab, you go to the hotel where Rose said her husband would be staying.

It's a nice five-star hotel, and you walk into the lobby confidently, even though you look like you don't belong here. You activate the mind control ring and approach the concierge desk. A young brunette greets you with a smile. Her name tag said 'Carla.'

"Hello. Do you speak English?"

"Yes sir, I do," she replies in a strong Italian accent. "How can I help you?"

You hold up the picture from Rose, thumbing the man. "I'm looking for Philip O'Brien. Has he checked in yet?"

The concierge nods. "Yes, he just got here not long ago with his friend."

"What room is he in? Can you describe his friend?

"Room 930. She is a tall brunette, very skinny, very beautiful. Wearing a red strapless mini-dress. Red stiletto heels."

"Great. Give me a key to his room. Also, find me some rope."

Carla proceed to make you a copy of the room key without questioning you. She sent for another hotel staff to find you some rope. As you waited, you take a closer look at Carla. She's plain-looking, but the blouse she's wearing shows off an ample bosom. A mischievous thought enters your mind and you decide to have some fun. She's still under the effect of your mind control.

"Carla, undo the top two buttons on your blouse," you say.

She does as you instruct, showing you more of her cleavage and her laced bra.

"For the rest of the night, I want you to stay like this, and not notice anyone staring at your boobs. For any male customers checking in, you will offer them a complimentary blowjob in the lobby bathroom. For females, you will offer to go down on them, or them on you, whichever they prefer. Clear so far?"

"Yes."

"Good. And at the end of your shift, I want you to find the oldest bellhop around and fuck his brains out. It's tough carrying bags all day and you should thank him. Okay? Repeat that last part to me."

"Okay. At the end of my shift, I will find the oldest bellhop around and fuck his brains out. It's tough carrying bags all day and I should thank him," Carla repeats. Just then, someone returns to the desk with three short pieces of rope.

Delighted, you take rope and let Carla go about her business, looking over your shoulder at the gentleman next in line as he approached the desk. He had no idea what treat he was about to receive.

On the elevator up, you think about your plan of action. You want to make sure Philip was appropriately punished for cheating on the lovely Rose. When you're outside his room, you stop time and insert the key card.