While You Were Sleeping

The gentle patter of rain against the windowpane was the only sound that disturbed the peaceful slumber of the penthouse. Turner, nestled next to Emma, felt a shift in the weight beside him. He opened his eyes, expecting to see her stirring, but instead, he found her face inches from his, her eyes closed, a mischievous glint in her subconscious.

Her lips, usually soft and inviting, were now pursed in a determined frown, and her hands, normally resting peacefully by her sides, were now actively undoing the buttons of his pajama pants. Turner blinked, his initial instinct being to push her away, but something about the way her brow was furrowed, the way her lips moved in a silent, determined chant, captivated him.

"What... what are you doing?" he whispered, his voice groggy after just being woken up.

Emma continued her task, her brow furrowing deeper as if struggling with a particularly difficult math problem. Then, with a triumphant grunt, she managed to undo the final button, her hands fumbling with the waistband.

Turner's eyes widened. He was starting to feel a strange mix of amusement and arousal. He wasn't sure what was happening, but he was definitely not complaining.

Emma, oblivious to his gaze, continued her mission. She reached down, her fingers brushing against his skin, sending shivers down his spine. He wasn't exactly sure what to do in the situation, because he knew you weren't supposed to wake a sleepwalking person, but Becca was right there. For now though, Emma didn't exactly seem in immediate danger.

With a final, determined tug, she managed to pull his pajama pants down, revealing... well, revealing a lot. Turner felt a jolt of surprise, quickly followed by a wave of arousal. Emma, seemingly unaware of his reaction, leaned closer, her breath warm against his skin.

"Almost there," she mumbled, somewhat incoherently.

She reached for his underwear, her fingers fumbling with the elastic waistband. Turner felt a strange sense of anticipation, a mixture of amusement and arousal he couldn't quite explain. This was definitely not how he expected his night to go.

But as Emma's fingers finally managed to hook under the waistband of his underwear, Turner decided he wasn't going to stop her. The thrill of the situation was too much, the taboo of it all too arousing.

Emma tugged, and his underwear slid down, leaving him fully exposed. He held his breath, unsure of what was going to happen next. But Emma didn't hesitate. She leaned in, her lips parting, and took him into her mouth.

Turner let out a low groan, his hands instinctively reaching out to tangle in her hair. "Fuck," he whispered, his hips jerking slightly at the sensation.

Emma's head bobbed up and down, her lips tight around him, her tongue swirling and teasing. She was a natural, even in her sleep. Turner could feel his control slipping, his body responding to her touch in a way he didn't think was possible.

He glanced over at Becca, still asleep on the floor, oblivious to the show playing out in front of her. A pang of guilt hit him, but it was quickly overshadowed by the pleasure coursing through his veins. He couldn't stop this, not now. Not when Emma's mouth was doing things to him that he didn't know were possible.

His fingers tightened in her hair, guiding her, making her take him deeper. Her lips were like velvet, her tongue like silk. He could feel her hot breath on his skin, could feel the suction in her mouth. It was fucking heaven.

"Fuck, Emma," he whispered, his voice hoarse with desire.

Emma didn't respond, of course. She was lost in her sleepwalking dream, her body moving automatically, instinctively. But her actions spoke louder than words.

She moaned around him, the vibrations sending shockwaves through his body. She started to suck harder, her head bobbing faster, her tongue swirling around the sensitive tip. Turner's breaths came out in harsh, ragged gasps. He could feel his release building, his body tense and ready.

Emma's hands, which had been fumbling at his hips, now gripped his thighs tightly, her nails digging into his skin. It was a strange mix of pleasure and pain, adding to the intensity of the moment. Turner's grip in her hair tightened, his hips thrusting gently, fucking her mouth.

He could feel the pleasure building in his lower belly, his balls tightening. "Emma," he hoarsely groaned, his voice low and guttural. "You're gonna make me come."

Emma's response was a hum of approval around him, her tongue working overtime. She took him deeper, her throat relaxing to accommodate him. Turner threw his head back, a low, primal sound escaping him. He could feel the pleasure consuming him, his body responding to the sensation of her mouth, her tongue, her throat.

He knew he should wake her, should stop this, but he couldn't. The sensation was too good, the taboo too enticing.

Turner couldn't bring himself to stop Emma, even as his body tensed, his release imminent. He thrust his hips, fucking her mouth, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. Emma responded was a muffled moan, her mouth still working on him, her tongue swirling around the sensitive tip. Turner felt the pleasure build, his body tense, his balls drawing up. He could feel his orgasm approaching like a freight train, fast and unyielding.

His hips jerked, his fingers tightened in her hair as he thrust deeper into her throat. She gagged slightly, but her lips never left him, her tongue never stopped its relentless ****.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" he grunted, his hips moving faster, his breaths coming in ragged pants. He could feel the pleasure building, his body tensing, his balls drawing up. "I'm gonna come, Emma. I'm gonna come in your mouth."

Emma's response was a muffled moan, her mouth working on him like a champ. Still, with all of the noise and movement, she remained asleep. Mercifully, so did Becca.

With a final thrust, Turner's release hit him like a tidal wave. His body tensed, every muscle tightening as pleasure surged through him. He spilled into Emma's mouth, hot and thick, his breaths coming in ragged gasps.

"Fuck, Emma," he groaned, his voice raw with desire. "Fuck, that's so good."

Emma didn't slow down, her lips and tongue working overtime to swallow everything he gave her. She made a small noise of satisfaction, her throat bobbing as she took it all. It was almost enough to make Turner come again.

His hips bucked involuntarily as the last of his release shuddered through him. He slumped back against the pillows, his body spent and trembling. He watched in awe as Emma's mouth never left him, her lips gently sucking until he was completely drained.

Gave Turner a Blowjob: +5 VP!
Swallowed: +3 VP!

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she released him with a soft pop. Her lips glistened with moisture as she sat up, still asleep. Her eyelids fluttered, confusion marring her brow as she glanced around. Turner held his breath, unsure if she was about to wake. But then, with a small sigh, she curled up beside him and nestled her head against his chest. He wrapped an arm around her, his heart still pounding from the intensity of the moment.

"Wow," he whispered to himself, staring up at the ceiling. His mind raced, a mix of disbelief and exhilaration surging through him. He had no idea Emma was so talented—or so adventurous in her sleep.

Becca murmured something unintelligible from the floor, shifting slightly in her sleeping bag but thankfully not waking up. Turner's hand moved to stroke Emma's hair gently, his touch tentative as if expecting her to bolt upright or vanish like some enticing fever dream.

But no. She was really there and asleep, soft and warm and utterly oblivious.

He lay there for a long time, trying to process what had just happened. The night crawled on, sleep elusive with Emma’s warmth pressed against him. When the first light of dawn crept into the room, he finally drifted off, a contented smile playing on his lips.

---

Anastasia stood before the bungalow, the small structure feeling less like a haven and more like the entrance to a surreal dream. Or nightmare, she wasn't quite sure yet. Kendra's words echoed in her mind: "Your roommate is Paige, Turner's ex-girlfriend." It was just another layer of bizarre in the already multi-layered cake of this apparent reality show.

Taking a deep breath, she pushed open the door.

The interior was surprisingly cozy, a stark contrast to the sterile room she'd woken up in. A small living area with a plush couch and a coffee table led into a kitchenette. To the right, a hallway branched off, presumably leading to the bedrooms. The decor was bright, likely attempting to create a relaxing atmosphere, but Anastasia's nerves were too frayed to appreciate it.

A figure emerged from the bathroom. She was tall and slender, with long, dirty blonde hair cascading down to her shoulders in moderately long strands. Her eyes, a striking shade of blue, widened slightly as she took in Anastasia's presence.

"Uh...who are you?" the girl asked, trepidatiously.

"Anastasia," she replied, her voice flat. "And you're Paige, I presume?"

Paige's brow furrowed. "Yeah. How do you know that?"

"Kendra," Anastasia said, rolling her eyes. "She seems to enjoy dropping bombs and then disappearing."

Paige sighed, a sound of weary resignation. "Yeah, that sounds like Kendra. So, you're the new… contestant?"

Anastasia nodded, her gaze sweeping over the room. "Contestant. Roommate. Whatever this is."

A tense silence settled between them. Paige shifted her weight, clearly unsure of what to say.

"Look," Anastasia began, breaking the silence. "I don't know what kind of… dynamic you have here, but I'm not interested in playing games. I was brought here against my will, and I want out."

Paige's expression softened slightly. "Yeah, I get that," she said, her voice low. "It's… a lot to take in."

"A lot?" Anastasia scoffed. "It's insane. One minute I'm in my kitchen, the next I'm signing some contract I didn't even read, and now I'm here. With Turner's ex."

"You don't have to tell me," Paige said, her voice laced with understanding. "I've been here longer, but it doesn't make it any less weird. Kendra has her ways."

"Ways?" Anastasia repeated, her eyes narrowing. "You mean manipulation. Control."

Paige shrugged. "Whatever you want to call it. Look, I know this is a lot, but maybe we can… help each other out. Figure out what's going on."

"Help each other?" Anastasia asked, skeptical. "Why would you want to help me?"

"Because," Paige replied, her gaze meeting Anastasia's, "we're both in the same boat. And because, frankly, I'm tired of being alone in this weird situation. Besides, you're living here now, and we're gonna have to find a way to get along."

Anastasia considered Paige's words. She didn't trust easily, but Paige's sincerity seemed genuine. "Fine," she said, her voice laced with caution. "But I'm not making any promises."

"Fair enough," Paige said, smirking slightly. "So how do you know Turner?"

"How do you know that I know him?" Anastasia bristled.

"We all do," Paige explained. "However small, he's the common link between everyone here."

"Right," Anastasia conceded, her shoulders slumping slightly. "We met at a party. A college party. He... he wasn't particularly memorable."

Paige raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement in her eyes. "Not memorable? That's understandable, but with pretty much everyone here, he's left quite an impression. Save for Charlotte."

"Well, not on me," Anastasia retorted, her gaze fixed on the floor. "He told me to 'wing it' when I asked for advice. That's about the extent of our interaction."

Paige chuckled, a low, throaty sound that surprised Anastasia. "Wing it? That sounds like Turner. He's always been… analytical. Maybe too analytical."

"Analytical?" Anastasia repeated, her brow furrowed. "He seemed more like he was avoiding talking to me."

"Maybe he was," Paige said, her voice laced with a hint of melancholy. "He has a way of doing that. Of keeping people at arm's length."

A silence fell between them, heavy with unspoken emotions. Anastasia glanced at Paige, noticing the subtle shift in her demeanor. She was clearly affected by the mention of Turner.

"So," Anastasia began, breaking the silence. "You and Turner… you were together?"

Paige nodded, her gaze drifting towards the window. "Yeah. For a while. It… didn't end well."

"I'm sorry," Anastasia said, her voice soft.

"Don't be," Paige replied, her smile turning brittle. "It was a long time ago. And besides," she added, her eyes glinting, "I've got my ways of winning him back."

"Now that Becca's gone?" Anastasia narrowed her eyes, already mentally fitting Paige into an archetype. "You're just gonna swoop in like that?"

"Girl, you have no idea how things work here," Paige rolled her eyes. "Firstly, Becca's still here. We all have been... transformed. And judging by that stupefied look on your face, Kendra must've conveniently forgotten to tell you that part."

"That she did," Anastasia glared at the door where Kendra once was.

"Yeah, that's a pretty important part of everything here," Paige stretched out on the bed. "It sucks, but what're you gonna do? We've tried going against her but she's got these magical powers or whatever. Anyways, back to my original point, I'm not just swooping in like that, it's part of the show. That's how you win."

"Great," Anastasia rolled her eyes. "So not only am I stuck here, I'm under the thumb of some magical woman, I'm gonna be transformed somehow, and I have to do...something with Turner, some guy I've barely even met. That's not exactly what I meant by 'doing something different'."

"Huh?" Paige asked.

"Never mind," Anastasia waved dismissively. "So...besides you, Becca, and Turner, who else is here?"

"Well, let me give you the rundown," Paige took a deep breath. "Next door is Emma and Mandy. Emma's on her date night with Turner right now. She's a real scatterbrained one, running around all amuck, all play today and work tomorrow. Mandy is the polar opposite, she's a mom, she's super organized and quiet."

"That's why they were roomed together?" Anastasia deduced.

"Exactly, to create drama," Paige nodded. "Then, next is Abby and Lana. Abby is Becca's younger sister, a real adventurous person, and Lana is...a bit of a bitch."

"Is that just coming from you or is that the truth?" Anastasia raised an eyebrow.

Paige pursed her lips, not responding to that, which was all the answer Anastasia needed.

"Then, there's Sara and Kathryn. Did Turner ever mention Phoebe to you? His older sister?"

"He mentioned he had an older sister going into law school, but not much else," Anastasia clarified.

"Well, Sara is her best friend," Paige responded. "She's also the only one to have done the deed with Turner."

"Wai-huh?" Anastasia was dumbfounded. "Her? Not Becca?"

"Well, Becca's been a bit of a wet blanket this whole time," Paige answered.

"And you're not just saying that because you're Turner's ex and she's his girlfriend, I bet," Anastasia dismissively said.

"Wow, day zero and you're already out here swinging," Paige mused.

"Sorry, I don't really have time for bullshit today," Anastasia admitted. "Today's been a bit hell."

"Well then why don't you get some rest," Paige suggested. "I was about to hit the hay too, until you showed up. By the way, what's with the...what exactly are you wearing?"

"It's a leotard," Anastasia answered, her voice deadpan. "That's part of the reason today was hell, my stupid gymnastics meet was a shitshow. Speaking of, do they bring my clothes here? Because there is no way I am wearing this for the whole fucking time I'm stuck here."

"Yeah...they should be in that dresser over there," Paige pointed at the piece of furniture in the far corner.

As Anastasia was grabbing some clothes from her dresser and retreated into the bathroom, Paige mulled over how she felt about her new roommate. Certainly a...strong personality, but maybe it was just because she'd had a bad day earlier. Her movements were pretty precise, almost like she was still running through a gymnastics routine in her head.

A flicker of something, maybe pity, maybe a strange sort of kinship, stirred within Paige. Anastasia was so tightly wound, so obviously out of her element. It reminded Paige of herself when she'd first arrived, though she'd tried to hide it better.

"She's a fighter," Paige thought, observing the way Anastasia's jaw clenched as she sorted through her clothes. "That's something. But is it enough here?"

This place wasn't about strength in the traditional sense. It was about… fluidity. About knowing how to bend, how to adapt, how to play the game. Anastasia seemed like she was all sharp angles and rigid lines. That could break her here.

"Or it could make her dangerous," a small, cautious voice whispered in the back of Paige's mind. She'd seen that flicker of defiance in Anastasia's eyes, the way she refused to back down from Kendra's pronouncements. It was a kind of stubbornness Paige both admired and feared.

"She's asking all the right questions too," Paige mused, watching Anastasia's gaze sweep over the room, absorbing every detail. "But she's still missing the point. It's not about the 'how' or the 'why' anymore. It's about surviving."

Paige remembered her own initial confusion, the **** need to understand the rules. But the rules changed, the ground shifted, and the only constant was Turner. And Kendra, of course, always watching, always manipulating.

"She thinks she can figure it out," Paige thought, a wry smile playing on her lips. "We all do, at first. But this isn't a puzzle you solve. It's a current you ride."

And Anastasia, with her rigid control and her fierce independence, was about to be swept away. Paige wondered if she'd learn to swim, or if she'd drown trying to fight the tide.

"She's going to be a problem," Paige decided, her gaze lingering on Anastasia's determined profile as the gymnast re-entered the bedroom. "For everyone. Especially me."

Paige knew she should be wary. Anastasia was competition, another obstacle between her and Turner. But something about her vulnerability, her raw, untamed energy, made Paige want to… what? Protect her? Warn her?

"No," Paige told herself firmly. "Don't get involved. Focus on the game. Focus on Turner."

But as she watched Anastasia unpack, her movements growing slightly less tense, Paige couldn't shake the feeling that their paths were intertwined, more than just as roommates. And that Anastasia's arrival was about to change everything.

---

Charlotte practically vibrated with energy, her blonde ponytail bouncing with each excited step. "A new girl tomorrow!" she squealed, clapping her hands together. "Oh, this is going to be so much fun! I wonder what she's like? Maybe she'll be into dancing! We could choreograph a routine together! Or maybe she's a total bookworm! We could have a silent reading party! Ooh, or maybe she's into makeup! We could do makeovers and try all sorts of crazy looks!"

Lauren chose not to comment on Charlotte's lack of ability to have a "silent reading party" as she tried to keep her focus on the book she was reading.

She flitted around their shared room, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. "I can't wait to meet her! I hope she gets here soon! Do you think she'll like me? I hope she likes me! I'm going to make her feel so welcome! We could even have a little welcome party! With snacks! And maybe some music! Oh, this is going to be the best!"

Charlotte grabbed a handful of colorful hair ties from her dresser, her mind already racing with possibilities. "I need to look my best tomorrow! First impressions are everything, right, Lauren? Lauren?"

Lauren, sprawled on her bed with a book, barely glanced up. "Mhmm," she mumbled, her eyes scanning the page.

"Lauren, are you even listening to me?" Charlotte pouted, her hands on her hips.

"Yeah, yeah," Lauren sighed, turning a page. "New girl. You're excited. Got it."

"But aren't you even a little curious?" Charlotte persisted, her voice laced with disappointment. "Don't you want to know who she is? What she's like?"

Lauren shrugged, her gaze never leaving the book. "Not really. Another girl in the harem. Big deal."

"But it is a big deal!" Charlotte exclaimed, her voice rising in pitch. "It's someone new! Someone to talk to! Someone to hang out with! It's going to shake things up!"

"Or it'll be exactly the same," Lauren countered, her voice flat. "We'll all smile, pretend to be friends, and then compete with one another. Just like the last 20 days or whatever."

Charlotte's face fell. "Don't say that!" she protested. "Maybe it'll be different this time! Maybe this girl will be… different!"

"Maybe," Lauren said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Or maybe she'll be just as **** and annoying as the rest of all—most of us."

"Lauren!" Charlotte gasped, her eyes wide with shock. "Don't say that! That's mean!"

"It's the truth," Lauren said, finally looking up from her book. Her eyes were tired and world-weary. "We're all here for the same reason, Charlotte. Let's not pretend otherwise."

Charlotte's shoulders slumped. "I just… I just want to have fun," she murmured, her voice barely audible.

"Then have fun," Lauren said, her voice softening slightly. "But don't get your hopes up too high. This place… it has a way of disappointing you."

Charlotte remained silent for a moment, her gaze fixed on the floor. Then, with a sigh, she turned back to her hair ties. "Well, I'm still going to be excited," she declared, her voice regaining a bit of its earlier enthusiasm. "I'm going to be positive! And I'm going to make her feel welcome!"

Lauren smiled faintly, a hint of amusement in her eyes. "That's Charlotte," she said, her voice a bit sarcastic. "Always the optimist."

She returned to her book, a small smile playing on her lips. Despite her cynicism, she couldn't help but feel a flicker of warmth for Charlotte's unwavering enthusiasm. Even in this strange and often disheartening place, Charlotte managed to find a spark of joy.

Maybe the new contestant would be someone Lauren liked. Who knows, maybe they could become fast friends?

Lauren doubted it, though.