Vivian

Hours later, Vivian was waiting at the interior bar for Michael to meet her, steeling herself via liquid courage and surreptitious slaps to her own ass. Her night with Michael already threatened to be painfully awkward, just as her date had been. But with the game’s new rules leaving her on the brink of elimination, the pressure to make this go well was nearly overwhelming her. She nervously played with the end of her leash as she passed the time. She’d had it less than a day but she was already starting to grow fond of it, and fiddling with it was becoming a bit of a habit. She’d made it white today, to match her outfit and somehow that made it feel more like a part of her than an invader. Perhaps the magic was getting into her brain, perhaps she was succumbing to Stockholm Syndrome, or perhaps it was something she’d wanted all along. Who the hell could tell any more? This place mindfucked people for fun. Regardless of the source, this was her situation and she needed to embrace it. Or else.

“Hi.” Michael said as he sidled up next to her. His voice was not inviting but also not scornful. Is this progress? Vivian wondered. While his face was inscrutable, his clothes were a wreck. He was still in the suit from yesterday’s long outdoor adventure, and it was filthy and torn in several places. Vivian knew more than one excellent tailor, but they’d have told her to write this one off as a total loss. That’s too bad. I liked that one.

“At least one of us dressed up.” Vivian poked, with a smile. Vivian had actually gone pretty casual this time, by her standards. If the long evening dress and heels wouldn’t do it last time, mix it up. This time, she wore khaki capris, white deck shoes, and a light blue button down blouse and pearl earrings, the last of which she showed off with a casual ‘pull-your-hair-over-your-ear’ move. It never failed.

Except that it failed. Of course, his eye was drawn straight to the leash and collar. I could have shown up naked and that still would have caught his eye first. Vivian bit her lip a little. Lose again and I may never have that choice.

“Let’s go upstairs and I’ll give you the story about it.” Vivian said, to his obvious unspoken question.

“I hope we can, last night the damn elevator wouldn’t even go to my floor.”

“It will now, I checked.”

“Always prepared, Vivian.” There was ice in his voice, but… less. Yes, this is progress.

“Shall we?” Vivian stood from the stool to head for the elevator. She walked slightly before him, and just as she’d hoped, he placed his hand in the small of her back. A small gesture, but a significant one. Vivian allowed herself a small exhale, the night was starting well.

---

“What the hell?” Michael asked as the elevator doors opened. He was holding a key in his hand, but there was no door to unlock. The elevator opened into a hallway ending in a Moorish arch, over which was inscribed ‘Sultan’s Suite.’

“Not how you left it?”

“Uhh, no. It looked like a cheesy 80’s hotel room before. They must’ve been renovating while I was out.” Michael walked through the arch suspiciously, taking several steps before he realized he was still holding the now-useless key and awkwardly put it in his pocket. As he went he softly narrated the changes to Vivian as he went. But she could tell he was explaining it almost as much to make himself believe what he was seeing. The living room was enormous. Where before it was just a large albeit schlocky suite, apparently the space had expanded to consume nearly the entire floor.

Dominating the room was a large armchair that looked like nothing more than a throne. Do Sultans sit on thrones? Vivian thought, annoyed that she didn’t know the answer. She mentally planned to Google it before remembering she had no way to do so. Regardless of its name, the throne had large, wide armrests where someone could easily sit, though it was obvious that the cushions placed around its base were meant for supplicants to kneel. Or more, really. They were large enough that two or more people could… perform for the person in that throne.

Vivian instinctively imagined herself sitting in that seat, in a position of power she’d have once thought hers to seize. But then Vivian couldn’t help but notice the cushion placed on the floor in front of the seat, right between where Michael’s legs would fall. Would it be the position of his most favored ****? Or his least? The image of herself kneeling before him, her leash tied off to a ring on his throne invaded her mind. The contrast between those images gave her a short pang of anger. Vivian on the throne, Vivian kneeling before the throne - from her perspective, nothing separated those possibilities but complete chance. Had Al chosen her as the Mistress and Michael a competitor… Well, she’d never know that scenario.

“Vivian?” He said softly, jolting her from her thoughts. “I’m gonna get cleaned up… Try to make yourself comfortable.” He looked around at the debauched nature of the place. “As much as you can, I suppose.”

Michael passed through a beaded door into the bedroom and shortly after, she heard the shower begin running. She took the chance to look around the throne room more closely. The stripper pole from the contestant’s floor now apparently continued up through the ceiling and into this suite, emerging through a stage located centrally for easy viewing from the throne. Vivian walked up to it and saw a small control panel on the armrest. Several of the buttons appeared rather obvious: raising and lowering the lights, playing music, controlling the television, and so on. But others had symbols she didn’t recognize and she gave into the impulse to press them. The first one appeared to open the stage around the pole, which would allow the dancer to slide down into the contestant’s floor like a firefighter. Or be dropped like a failed villain’s henchman. Vivian couldn’t picture Michael as some kind of cruel overlord. What kind of person do they want him to become? What kind of person could he become? Vivian had never really believed that people could change. Indeed, she’d lived most of her life assuming that people were predictable, and indeed she’d been successfully predicting and outflanking people many, many times. But now her fate depended on being able to change herself and for Michael to resist the temptations to do the same, so she tried to tamp down her cynicism.

Vivian was certain he wouldn’t have given permission to enter the bedroom had she asked, but she didn’t intend to ask. He seemed to be in a better mood around her than he’d been since she left, but she still felt she needed some kind of edge. Some extra information. Anything, really, to plan her next moves. That’s what she told herself, anyway. Truth be told, she was still harboring her Mistress fantasy and wanted to wallow in it just a moment longer.

The bed was huge, large enough for many, many people to join in comfortably. If she survived this round, Vivian thought that might be an appropriate way to quickly accrue some points and get back in this game, and she mentally began cataloging the others and stack-ranking them as possible partners. She considered and rejected the idea of inviting one of them now, this had to be her and her alone.

Nothing was jumping out at Vivian as a possible advantage, and was ready to leave, but then she noticed that his closet was ajar. Clothes horse that she was, she had to see what lay inside. Michael’s suit was quite appealing, seeing him in something nice was a return to form that Vivian could appreciate. He’d absolutely destroyed that particular one, but perhaps there were more? It was maybe a way they could bond.

The walk-in was, like everything up here, huge. Michael had a reasonably-sized wardrobe for a middle-aged man with a little bit of money and a woman with some sense in his life, but it barely filled a quarter of the space available. She saw small tags marking off sections of the empty bars and walked to the largest reserved space. The tag had her name on it. They’re for our clothes. Vivian could see the horrible logic. All of them were meant to be Michael’s… she couldn’t bring herself to even think the word property, but there was no escaping it. Of course he’d get their possessions too.

A small pull-cord hung from a blank section of wall, and curiosity demanded she pull it. Down came a Murphy bed from the wall, a small and narrow thing with restraints placed at the corners. And those are for us too. If we’re eliminated. If I’m eliminated. Tucked into his closet to be brought out when he wants. She pushed the bed back into place, but it was harder to push it from her mind.

She was more than ready to leave, but there was one last element to investigate Against the wall opposite the door hung a large ornate mirror. But it wasn’t reflecting the room. At least, not this room. It appeared to be a screen in an ornate mirror’s frame, and currently it was showing a view of the contestant’s closet - Janet’s by the look of the frilly and dated clothes hanging on her bars. Janet was standing there in her bra and panties, which Vivian could tell had once been substantially more supportive and less… exotic. Meant for comfort instead of titillation. Now, however, they cut high on Janet’s hips and tight on her backside, accentuating the woman’s curves. Her loss is my gain, Vivian had grown quite fond of the young woman, surprising even herself. Vivian could have blamed her girlish crush on any number of things, but honestly Janet was the only one that didn’t treat her like a live grenade.

On the screen, the redhead’s face scrunched as every article of clothing she touched shrank, grew sheer, or got a scandalously low cut added where none had been before. Janet’s face was a volatile mix. Half was excitement as the clothes molded themselves to match the woman the hotel had molded her into. Half was regret at watching her old style and indeed her past vanish quite literally in front of her eyes - a feeling Vivian herself found very relatable. As Janet moved through the clothes, she reached an extraordinarily dowdy peach-colored nightgown and abruptly jerked her hand away before she touched it, as if it would burn her. Vivian initially thought it was just a reaction to how ugly the thing was, but the pain on Janet’s face was enough to push those catty thoughts out.

“Mal?” Janet called, pushing down tears. The blonde almost raced into Janet’s closet, as if she had been waiting outside the door, **** for the chance to help somehow. Mallory followed Janet’s wet eyes to the nightgown, then tracked along the line of crop tops, booty shorts, tube dresses, and other slutwear leading up to it and her eyebrows rose in recognition.

“Your grandma’s?” Mallory asked softly. Janet nodded. “And you can’t touch it any more?” Janet shook her head, then let Mallory pull her into a hug. The pair embraced quietly for a moment, then Mallory helped by pulling a plastic garment bag over it before returning to the hug.

Vivian suddenly felt very dirty and averted her gaze. She’d enjoyed the perverse thrill of spying on a half-dressed Janet, no sense in pretending otherwise. But the same power to peek on a person baring their assets could also bare their soul. What an awesome and awful responsibility, Vivian thought. She accepted that the throne was a burden as much as a blessing, and for the first time she realized it was a power she didn’t actually want. Do I… pity Michael? Now there’s an unexpected emotion.

Michael’s shower turned off and Vivian immediately remembered she wasn’t supposed to be in here. She bolted as quietly as she could, bouncing on her toes all the while past his thankfully closed bathroom door and across the cavernous living room. Thinking quickly, she diverted past a well-stocked bar, grabbing a random bottle of wine and a pair of glasses and ducking through the sliding glass door outside. Out on the balcony was a … jacuzzi? No one mentioned that before. Vivian saw Michael’s shadow inside the room. She practically threw the glassware at a poolside table, kicked off her shoes and shimmied out of her clothes, then climbed into the hot, bubbling water in her panties and settled down under the water just as Michael emerged in his robe.

“Not bad.” Michael said as he beheld the scene, and Vivian wasn’t quite sure if he was referring to her or the tub itself. But since her optimism was still buzzing from Janet’s spanking earlier, she chose to believe the better option.

“Thanks.” She flashed him a smile, and her heart climbed when he returned it. “Climb in.”

“Be right back, my suit’s inside.” He said, putting his hand on the door.

“You won’t need it.” Vivian said, which got his attention. When his eyes were on her, waiting for her next move, she made a show of lifting her legs above the surface of the water, sliding her soaked underwear down her thighs and off, dropping them with a wink onto the hastily discarded pile of clothes. Her body was concealed underneath the bubbles, which wouldn't work for her purposes. Though the leash seemed to defy physics and float on the top of them. I can’t even hide it under water. So she stood, slowly and deliberately, rising from the water like a siren. The setting sun left a lovely sheen on her skin from the water dripping off her body, and she turned to the table where she’d tossed the glasses and bent over just enough to pop her hips and offer him a tantalizing view.

Fortunately, the bottle she had grabbed was an appropriate bubbly white. Vivian popped the cork and let the fizz suggestively run down the neck and her hands before she poured out a pair.

“You will need these, however.” She said, climbing slowly from the water with the glasses. His eyes traced her body, working upwards from her bare feet, past her strong sculpted legs, and her modest but perky breasts. She’d strategically held the glasses in front of the latter so his eyes would land there. Every move was choreographed. His eyes betrayed more lust and, thankfully, far less hostility. You fuck a guy’s brains out and maybe it balances the scales. She slowly sank to her knees before him. Looking up with what she hoped was an appropriately suppliant face, then set her drink down so that she could offer him his own glass with one hand, and the leash with the other.

“Please take my leash and command me, if you wish it.” She said, automatically. “...Master.” She added intentionally. He winced slightly.

“You’re laying it on a little thick.” He said, tapping her shoulder. “Come on, stand up. You’re embarrassing me.”

He doesn’t look embarrassed. She thought, her eyes flitting to the erection forming under his towel. Vivian didn’t move or speak. She kept looking up at him, maintaining her gaze from below. Once again needing him to make the next move, her plan needed him to. He reached for the leash but… stopped himself. He casually reached over and took the glass, as if that was his intention all along.

“Why Champagne though?” He asked, “What are we celebrating?”

Vivian resisted the urge to correct Michael about the sparkling wine, but instead rose to her feet. She still felt the tugging in her brain to offer him the leash, apparently it would not be satisfied until he actually took it. She grabbed her own glass and offered it to him in a toast.

“We’re celebrating our second date.” She thought better of it, and corrected. “Or, perhaps a reboot of our first.”

“That was a little rocky.” He admitted.

“But it ended well.” She said with a wink. He snorted a little bit, as if she’d made a joke. But he didn’t hit her with an insult or a comeback. The lack of one was reassuring. She took his hand and led him to the tub. He didn’t protest or resist when she gently pulled his towel away, nor was he ashamed in the slightest when his cock sprang free. Nor should he be. She thought, looking at his erect member, which had been at the edges of her mind the entire time since their date.

As he settled into the water, Vivian instinctively tried to sit in his lap, but after a moment, his face hardened and he pushed her off.

“Like I said, you’re laying it on a little thick.”

“It usually works.” Vivian said, putting on first a pout, then a bemused smile that hopefully hid her disappointment. She crouched into the tub and allowed herself to float slightly.

“Is this your plan?” Michael carved right through all subtlety. Perhaps he was growing tired of it. “Throw yourself at me again and hope for the best? Seems a pretty **** gambit, Vivian, not up to your usual standards.” There it is, the resentment. I need to get him past that. Somehow.

“Not exactly.” The tub was huge, and could have fit nearly all of the cast at once had they wanted to. Vivian rolled onto her back for a moment and looked up at the sky, wondering at the faces of the anonymous… whomever or whatever held her fate in their hands. Either I win him and them over tonight, or else.

“Then what’s your plan?”

“I’m here to help you, actually.”

Michael snorted again, this time an unambiguously disdainful laugh. “Really? And there’s nothing in it for yourself?” He shook his head.

“Maybe in the long-term. But nothing I can control.”

“Vivian, doing something out of the goodness of your heart? No angle? No self-interest? That’s not in your nature.”

“People can change.” Vivian implicitly conceded his point, and Michael acknowledged it with a nod.

“Ok, hit me then. How can you help me?”

She floated over to him again, not sitting on him but bobbing close enough that she could have if he allowed it. He didn’t shove her away.

Vivian looked him dead in his eyes. “I’m offering you peace of mind.” Whatever Michael expected her to say, it wasn’t that. He sat in stunned silence and allowed her to continue. “You’ve been through a lot since we were brought here. Your life is going to change forever, in ways you couldn’t have even contemplated a month ago. Obviously, for all of us ladies too, but yours as well. All the relationships you spent a life building, shattered and remade in the hotel’s image.” She put a tender hand on his cheek. “You’re obviously conflicted about it, Michael. Who wouldn’t be?” She paused, and he nodded, betraying some real pain and conflict.

“You’re a good man at heart, Michael, but you’re still a man. Be honest, you were wanting to fuck me ever since we met.” Even if Ruby had not told her that before the show, it was obvious from the way he’d looked her over even then. To his credit, he didn’t deny it. “But you didn’t.” Not then.

“I was married.” Michael said, then corrected. “I am married. Twice.”

“That didn’t stop us on our date.”

Michael shifted under the water. Making him squirm is a little fun, actually. Vivian was still feeling a buzz from that night, and she rode it. “That was different, all this is different.” He said.

“You’re right. It is.” Vivian slid in closer, onto his lap. His face was conflicted, but the dick pressing into her thigh was not. He put his hands on her… and instead of pushing her off, he left them there. Emboldened, she pressed, her hand ‘casually’ brushing his erection. “That wasn’t some random office fling, and this isn’t some drunken mistake on a business trip. These are our lives now, Michael. …Master.” She said, and he cringed again. “You had one wife. Then you learned you had two. Soon you’ll have seven.”

“This is not filling me with peace of mind. You suck at this.”

“Well, you said it right, this isn’t up to my usual standards.” She threw her head back and laughed theatrically, making sure he got a good view of her collar. Vivian threw one arm around his neck and pulled herself in closer. “I don’t know what’s going to happen in this competition. By this time next week I could be a brainless lap dog, obedient and available but gone forever. Because you’re a man, you’d eventually take that opportunity.” Michael looked offended, but she talked right over whatever protest he was about to make. “But because you’re a good man, you’d feel guilty about it. You’d wonder how things could have gone if I hadn’t been zapped, and you’d never have the chance to know. So I’m offering peace of mind, Michael. For one night at least, you’ve got me. Still compos mentis. Yours. And maybe for the last time.” She gripped the leash and felt the swell of words in her chest again: “Please take my leash and command me, if you wish it. Master.”

This time he didn’t wince, but he did consider her words before responding.

“You’re just trying to get the points,” he said, a last vestige of his hate. But it was down to embers now, not the roaring fire it had been for so long. “There’s always an angle.”

“Not tonight,” Vivian said. “I’m donating today’s points to the audience.”

“...What?” Got him again. Vivian thought.

“Whatever happens tonight - whatever you want to happen - it’s about you. Not me. If the audience votes them back to me, then I’m alive in this game. If they don’t, well… woof woof.” She joked, but Michael was still stone faced. “I told you there was more to my plan. That’s the final part, Michael. It’s not on you. No matter what happens, this isn’t on you.” That’s your peace of mind. She reached over his shoulder and gently stroked his chest, still holding the leash out for him.

“Then why offer me this?”

“It feels right that way.” Vivian said.

Michael nodded, and this time, he took it.

“Kiss me.” He said, and then she needed to. She shifted her legs to straddle him, and he grabbed her butt to pull her in closer until they were chest to chest. They hadn’t really kissed on their first go around, what with being so eager to fuck like rabbits, so she made sure to appreciate it this time, and to make him appreciate it as well. This isn’t the leash talking, Vivian thought.

When in France… +2
Kiss and Make Up +2

The leash was wrapped in his fist now, his doubts about the situation seemingly faded with the expert play of their tongues. She felt a sudden desire to suck his cock, though he hadn’t said anything. Was it his command, a subconscious one? Was it her desire? She didn’t know, couldn’t know, and didn’t care. Vivian floated herself off of his lap, took a deep breath, and brought her head under the water’s surface to take his cock in her mouth. She knew, instinctively, that she couldn’t rise for air until he allowed it. But the fear she’d felt with Rhonda was gone now, and she wasn’t totally sure why. Once again she was reminded of the trust fall experience, but this time, she was almost eager for the chance to demonstrate it. She took his full length in her mouth, until her face was buried in his midsection. A long stroke up his shaft. Another. Her body cried out for air, but she didn’t panic. Not this time.

And he rewarded that trust. He tapped her shoulder and she knew she could come up for air. She took a big, deep inhale as she broke the surface. It felt strangely like a rebirth. A baptism. She took a few more deep inhales, then sank below the surface to continue. Vivian wondered idly if the camera could see this through the bubbles but ultimately didn’t give a fuck. She and Michael continued their little dance. Vivian feels as though he’s holding out longer before letting her up. Testing her. I love a challenge, Vivian thought as she willed herself to hold out a little longer. Even in total submission, she still felt her competitive spirit pushing her. Let’s see one of those other girls do it better. And that wasn’t the transformation talking either.

Vivian felt him getting close, and she dove down with one goal in mind. I’m not coming up until he’s finished. She gripped his shaft in her fist and pumped while continuing to suck his cockhead. He tapped her shoulder, but she doesn’t rise. Apparently it wasn’t an order, after all. She smiled. This was all me. Michael started getting worried, she could tell. Vivian feels him tapping her more urgently, even tugging on the leash. But apparently he didn’t verbalize the order to stop, because Vivian was able to continue. Even though her body began to scream out for oxygen, she soldiered on.

Despite her promise to give him peace, Vivian had given him conflict. He wanted her to stop but also needed her to finish. And the latter won out, decisively. He stopped tapping her shoulder as he approached his finish. His hips bucked and his hands gripped her hair as he reached it, climaxing hard in her mouth. Not leaving until its done, she said to herself. She worked out the last few pumps before she allowed herself to breach the surface.

Vivian coughed and sputtered, grabbing the bottle from the adjacent table and washing down his seed with a big swing. Once she swallowed, she took big, gulping breaths to alleviate the burning in her lungs, and out of the corner of her eye she noted the concern on Michael’s face. Mixed with pleasure. And yearning. Good.

Oral sex +5
Coming Up for Air +4

“Did that help?” She asked, trying to put a smile back on her face. She looked a wreck, her hair soaked and matted, her makeup running (Why did I put that on anyway?), and her cheeks flushed from her oxygen deprivation. Still, she felt beautiful and Michael’s serenity made her feel accomplished.

“Immensely. Pour us another drink and come back over here.” He said, the collar making it her command. She poured the glasses and sat back in his lap. “I knew it.”

“Knew what?” Vivian asked.

“Your whole plan was to throw yourself at me and hope for the best.” He smirked. He is handsome when he’s commanding.

“Well, maybe I was feeling a little ****.” She admitted. And somehow, even after confessing it to Janet, that admission to Michael felt like a bigger risk than anything she’d done so far. When he hugged her tightly, she knew it was the right play.

“So what now?” He asked.

“The night’s yours, Michael.” She flipped her hair back, once again flashing the pearl earrings. “I have an idea though. What do you think?”

“Very nice,” he said, reaching up and gently gripping one of the pearls between his thumb and forefinger. Vivian shuddered intensely and he immediately let go. “Woah, woah, what the hell?”

“I bought them for our date, from one of the shops in the marketplace. They’re connected to me, when I wear them.”

The Girl With the Pearl Earrings - When worn, any sensations provided by another person on the earrings will feel as if they are being applied to the wearer’s clitoris.

“You bought earrings connected to your clit?” Michael asked incredulously. “Why? Did you think I couldn’t find the real thing?”

Oh crap. Vivian panicked that she’d offended him and blown this whole thing up, then stammered and started to mumble out an apology punctuated with an appropriately deferential amount of “Yes, Master” and “Sorry, Master.” But then his sudden raucous laughter stymied that.

“You’re not serious.” Vivian mumbled, realizing she’d been had.

“If you’re going to be wife #7, you’d better get used to it.”

“You weren’t like this at work.” Vivian said, in disbelief that Michael could have gotten her like that.

Michael looked over the nude woman in his lap, eyebrows rising to the sky. “Neither were you!”

“Touché.”

Michael gave her right earring a delicate kiss, causing her to shudder anew, but then stopped.

“I have a proposition for you.” He said.

“You stopped to make me an offer?”

“It’s in my nature,” he grinned broadly. “That point you made about having seven wives. I’ve been thinking... I’m gonna need some help with that, it’s…a lot. You were my right hand once. Maybe you could be again?”

“How the hell is that supposed to work?”

“Just help me manage the situation. You’ve worked with some difficult personalities, you sometimes seem to almost read people’s minds.” He said. Vivian didn’t need to press him on who those difficult personalities might be. “I’m coming back around on your loyalties, but I never doubted your abilities.”

Though he held the leash, it couldn’t command her to accept. This was all her decision. Vivian flashed over the image of her sitting on the throne with the rest of the harem at her feet. It was a beautiful vision, and one she could have almost brought herself to chase. At first. But the longer she stared at it in her mind’s eye, the less authentic it felt. The more like something she should want rather than something she did. And moreover, she remembered Hannuma tormenting her supposed Harem Queen, and knew that she would never be accepted as Michael’s voice by these women. To even attempt to claim it would be a disaster. For both of them.

“Michael…” She said, feeling ‘Master’ conveyed the wrong tone for that moment, “I don’t think that’s the best idea.”

He didn’t look shocked. A test? “That’s not the answer I expected from you.”

“Like I said, people can change.” Vivian put on a pouty face. “But more importantly, were you thinking about harem hierarchy while I was drowning myself to give you a blowjob?”

“It’s called ‘multi-tasking.’” He made obnoxious air-quotes as he said it.

Vivian rose from his lap and stood over him, hands on hips in a power pose, water dripping from her nude form and a deadly serious expression on her face. Michael looked suitably impressed and the tableau. She jabbed her finger dead into his chest.

“Look, pal,” She said firmly. “I know I said this was your night and called you Master, but I’m giving you an order right back. When I’m sucking your dick, pay attention. Got it?”

“Yes, Ma’am.” He said, raising his arms in an ‘I surrender’ pose, though his eyes maintained their roguish self-awareness.

“I’m glad we have that settled.” She sat back down, resuming her submissive posture in his lap. “Now, Master, where shall the night take us?”

---

The following morning, Vivian kissed the still sleeping Michael on the cheek, dressed herself, and hit the button for the contestant’s floor on the elevator.

It had been a pleasant evening, the total contrast to the fiasco in New Orleans. She and Michael had really taken the time to just talk, in a way they never really had when business concerns were always pushing themselves to the forefront. Strangely, they’d known each other for years and never learned the simplest things. On a lark, Vivian had the concierge send up some tapes of her high school ballet recitals, and then she replicated what moves she could, given a collar and leash swinging around as she twirled. It was deeply ridiculous and fun, helped along by another bottle of sparkling wine. She made it halfway through the second bottle before she broke down and corrected Michael for calling it champagne. Of course, he winked and admitted he did that just to annoy her.

Three times in one night he got me. Vivian shook her head. She hadn’t let herself relax like that in his presence, or any man’s presence, for a long, long time. It was nice. No matter what happened, that was a nice evening.

She stepped off the elevator without looking, not realizing until she hit the wall of smoke that it had not taken her to the contestant floor after all.

“Hello, Al.” She said, coughing as she waved the smoke from her face.

“A lovely morning to you too, toots.” It appeared to be a basement floor that she’d never visited, all concrete and steel, with none of the fake-opulence that marked the rest of the resort. It seemed, fittingly, like the inside of a rat maze. And standing there with his horrible smile was the rat king himself.

“I didn’t say ‘Good morning,’” Vivian said, crossing her arms defensively once she’d cleared enough air to breathe. She wished she could have hidden the leash, but her transformation compelled her to leave it hanging down her front. Even through his shades, she could tell Al was staring at it. She fought to keep her shame from showing, with marginal success. Al waved his hands and the smoke began to form around them like a bubble. The rest of the room became hazy and indistinct, and the mechanical sounds she’d heard faded to nothing. A bubble of silence.

“Well it would have been a lie anyway.” Al said. “I understand that lying is your thing.” Vivian didn’t move or react, but Al threw up his hands defensively as if she had. “Don’t take it the wrong way, though. I respect someone who plays the game for keeps.”

“I’m not that person any more, Al.”

“Bullshit, baby.” He reached forward and brushed away her hair, exposing her earrings. She tried to smack his hand away, but it was like hitting a wooden beam. He rubbed the earring with his thumb far less gently than Michael had, and Vivian winced in pain at the powerful sensations. “You think putting on a new pair of earrings changes anything?” Mercifully, he released her ear from his grip and stepped back. Vivian balled her fists and -barely- resisted the urge to pop him in the face. With her points still at zero pending the vote, punching him could be a one-way ticket off the show.

“Tell me what you want, and don’t ever touch me again.” Vivian demanded.

“There’s the Viv I know and love, baby.” He said. He pulled what looked like a long receipt from his pocket and began reading it. “You see, I knew those earrings looked familiar when you showed up in Michael’s suite wearing ‘em. But not from the stuff you brought from home, I knew those were Hotel-brand. But I know you can’t get those so easily, not without something to trade. Chips ain’t enough, not for the top shelf.”

Vivian felt like her heart had stopped in her chest. How could I be so reckless? She thought she kept it cool, but she couldn’t be sure.

“So I look at the transaction log,” Al continued. “And I see one Vivian Knight turning in one transformation named “Read the Table” in exchange for a pair of clit earrings. My first thought is, ‘Fuckin’ finally one of these chicks thinks to add more clits.’ But then my second thought was ‘What the fuck is “Read the Table”?’ because I haven’t given that to her and she didn’t buy it.’”

Vivian felt like a bomb had gone off in her gut. She’d come so far and sacrificed so much and fucked everything over the stupidest goddamn mistake imaginable. As soon as I saw those earrings, I wanted them. I’ve always loved pearls, they made me feel strong. Something beautiful over something so hard. But these… made me feel soft. Warm. Connected. And I just didn’t think it through. The one goddamn time I didn’t consider every option…

But all that was inside. Outside, she was granite, as always. Al waited for Vivian to crack. To break down and throw herself at his feet and beg for mercy. But that was not in her nature.

“Make your point, Al.” Vivian threw up an aggressive defense.

“If I didn’t give it to you, and you didn’t buy it, that leaves one possibility. And that explains so damned much, now that I can see it.” Al began slow clapping. “Like I said, respect. I don’t know how you fuckin made a deal with her, baby, but it was a smart move.”

It didn’t feel so smart in the moment, but Vivian’s mind raced with possible countermoves. None of them seemed viable.

“Then why are we talking?” Vivian said. “If you believed what you’re accusing, why haven’t you snapped your fingers and ended this?”

“It’s on the table.” He said, raising his hand with his thumb and middle finger primed. But he didn’t do it.

“You can’t turn me in because it would expose you.” Vivian’s mind spun furiously, she’d been dancing around this conclusion but Al’s behavior all-but-confirmed it... “...Because you **** the drinks on our date.”

“Clever girl.” He said, not continuing, but not lowering his hand.

“Now what?” Vivian said.

“You can do one last thing for me, or I can eliminate you from this game here and now.” Al said.

“You’d be down a player.”

“You fuckin work for Ruby anyway. What’s the loss?” Vivian had traded in her reading power, but his threat was clear and obvious. And very, very real. Despite the absolute rivers of crap she’d had to wade through so far, she still tried to reclaim her stoicism. But even she had limits. Vivian’s lip quivered slightly, and that was Al needed to know he’d won. He slowly lowered his hand. Vivian covered her mouth with both hands, but the damage was done. Not just in this scenario, but in all of it. Everything she’d bared to the others, to Michael. How could she ever explain this? What else would they see in her but a liar and a cheat? Was that all she ever was, or could be?

“Ok.” Vivian said softly.

The Polls have Closed - Thank you!

[AN: Please vote for which contestant should receive the points from Vivian’s day (both chapters) - 16 points. The current standings:
Janet: 47
Luciana: 43
Ronnie: 39
Mallory: 36
Danica: 30
Sarah: 19
Vivian: 0]