Jake Cooper, a 30 year old investment banker.

The camera, panned along a sandy beach lined with palm trees and glowing white in the tropical sun. A mountain stood at the island's center, imposing and clearly volcanic, though covered by a dense jungle canape in spite of that. The camera passed over a village with narrow streets, and stucco buildings. More beach flashed by until a beautiful resort emerged; a collection of postmodern buildings dressed like tropical huts with faux thatched roofs and bamboo paneling that sprawled along the mountain cliff side.

The camera found the complex's central building, a huge visitor's center that housed many of the key facilities, its help desk and acted as the central hub for the connected suites. A rounded, fanlike structure, it ringed the base of the volcano, and bore a central courtyard that consisted of crisscrossing walkways and islands set in a giant pool. At the center of this sat a sunken pool lounge; a circular courtyard ringed by a bench that was built into the pool itself, with a series of step-stones leading out to it.

It was above this courtyard where the camera finally found its subject; a breathtakingly beautiful woman standing on a raised platform at the lounge's head. She was olive skinned with dark eyes, long legs, full breasts and a shapely swell of rear. Her hair was midnight black, and so long that draped over the swell of her ass. She wore a red evening dress that clung to her figure, was cut low to show off her expanse of cleavage, and bore a side slit that left a long, olive leg exposed.

"Hello, and welcome to the first season of Harem Hotel," She greeted. Her voice bore a posh English accent, "A show where we draft a group of women to compete for the affections of a master. I'm your host, Leah, and I'll be your mistress of ceremonies."

She gave the camera a winning smile.

"But, the show's not about me. Let's meet our first Master!" She said, "This will be the man who all our contestants will compete for. His name is Jake Cooper, and he's a wealthy young investment banker from New York City. Let's introduce him now, shall we..."

*****

Jake Cooper sat in a Brooklyn coffee shop, only half listening to the Zoom call he was on, hoping the exposed brick background obscured the fact that he was not working from home. He was paying more attention to the barista, his girlfriend Emily, as she made moon eyes at him over the bar.

"Jake, do you have any thoughts on that?" His manager asked, rousing him from his stupor.

"I agree completely," He said, unsure of what exactly he was agreeing to. But he quickly pivoting to something important just to hedge his bets, "But I wanted to bring up the TanGen account. They're asking us to do some really funky transactions with them that I feel might qualify as earnings manipulation under scrutiny. I think we should take a pass."

"That deal poses no material risks," A predictable voice spoke up, "We have a handshake agreement to that effect. It'll also make the firm $8 million if we pull the trigger."

That Amelia, his chief rival at the firm, would object to this was predictable. She was the one setting the deal up and, if it went through through, would put her over him for commissions on the quarter. Not that that was the basis of his objection. If anything, he hated how personal competition tended to frame these discussions, especially when he knew he was right on the merits. But smart, pretty, and a rising star in the firm, his objections to some of her more reckless undertakings were often dismissed as peer to peer jealousy.

"I have to agree with Amelia," his manager said, before laying out his reasoning (which essentially boiled down to 'it would make us a lot of money') and moving onto the rest of the meeting. Jake waited it out in annoyed silence.

It was a sequence all too typical of his work of late that highlighted the growing sense that he was a misfit in his chosen profession. At 30, Jake was already a successful man; one of what felt like a conga line of young millionaires cranked out by the latest bull market. Unlike most of his colleagues, addicted to the trappings of Wall Street's wealth flaunting culture, he eschewed the swanky, overpriced SoHo or Chelsea flats most of his colleagues preferred for a one bedroom in Bay Ridge, and still drove the same Chevy he'd once crisscrossed his old Upstate stomping grounds with. He was handsome, but not in the way typical to the clean cut frat brothers of the business; tall and lean with thick, wavy auburn hair and a full beard that, despite its neat trim, made him look like a beatnik. In fact, that was sort of how he liked to think of himself. A philosopher at heart despite being another cog in the Wall Street money machine; a Jack Kerouac in a Boiler Room world.

As the meeting ended, he set his headset aside, catching Emily's gaze over the lip of his computer. She was a cute girl, with long legs and a terrific butt framed by her tight blue jeans. Her blonde hair, streaked with pink, was tied back from her pretty, freckled face. She smiled at him as his brown eyes met her pale blue ones; a wordless exchange emblematic of their growing comfort with each other. Even though they were both working, he was glad he could spend his day with her.

Emily boosted herself onto the bar before swinging over it, managing not to spill a drop from the coffee pot she wielded one handed. Strolling over to his table in her canvass lowtops, she filled his cup without asking.

"Everything alright?" She asked.

"Oh, just a bit of a testy meeting," He said with a sigh. "It's been that kind of morning."

"Mmm...poor baby," She said, stroking his hair. "Must be hard moving other people's money around all day."

It was a familiar exchange, but her casual disdain for his profession was actually part of her appeal. A 22 year old English major fresh out of college, Emily was a little too young, a little too artsy and altogether too laid back to fit the profile of a typical Jake Cooper love interest...and really, that was sort of the point after the relationship he'd just gotten out of.

She gently pushed his table back before settling into his lap, wrapping an arm around the back of his neck and giving him a kiss. He returned it, and he had to stop his hand from climbing up beneath her apron.

"Mm...not to sound unappreciative, but aren't you on the clock?" He asked, after a moment.

"It's slow enough," She said with a shrug.

"When do you close up? We should go out tonight." He proposed, "Take a walk down 3rd Avenue until we find someplace we've never been to. Get drunk and wander over to the beach."

But she was already shaking her head, a pained, but cute little pout on her face.

"Baby, I'd really love to, but I can't. I already promised Rach I'd spend some time with her."

He sighed.

"You live with Rachel. How neglected can she possibly be?"

"Ugh, do you have to say it like that? I really wish you two would get along better," She said, "Besides, it's not just her. I need to work on some paintings for that exhibit I was telling you about. I've done like, zero work on it."

He nodded. It was disappointing, but he tried to be supportive of her hobbies, even if he despised her best friend.

"No, you're right," He reluctantly agreed, "And we are spending the day together. I'm just being a bit greedy."

She stood up again, but leaned over to kiss him.

"It is slow, you know," She said with a smile. "Maybe I could lock up for a bit and we could fool around in the backroom."

Jake imagined her tending the bar, this time in nothing but that apron, and decided that this represented an acceptable compromise.

"Naughty girl," He said with a smile. "Messing around at work like that."

"Sounds like someone better put me in my place," She teased back.

He stood to meet her, sliding his arm around her waist to pull her into a kiss.

"Easy tiger," She squirmed away, "I'll need to lock up first. And it wouldn't kill me to freshen up a bit."

"Mmmm....fine." He said, taking a seat as she closed the shop and drew its blinds.

Finally, she disappeared to the bathroom, and Jake waited patiently for her return.

Suddenly, he began to feel strange; lightheaded and unbalanced. The world around him took on an insubstantial quality. He rose to his feet, wobbling. He tried to go to Emily, or call out to her, but his every action felt like it was taking place underwater. The world around him began to darken, and Jake felt like he was falling.