Claire's Bio, Your New Challenge Cards and POWER PLAYS!

Before Rhett can introduce the Power Plays, your eyes are already on your tablet—checking which new challenge cards you drew to replace last week's, and scanning the bio of the girl you ended up with from the draw: Claire Kowalski.

Name: Claire Kowalski
Age: 19
Major: Music
Bio: Claire is a first-year music major who plays piano like a dream and flirts like a buffering Zoom call. Raised in a family of engineers, she rebelled by becoming an artist—which mostly means apologizing a lot and carrying a satchel full of sheet music and herbal tea. She’s deeply passionate about film scores, obscure operas, and avoiding eye contact. Claire is often underestimated, but anyone who listens closely realizes she’s got sharp wit and an even sharper ear. That said, she’s still working on the "romantic confidence" patch in her latest life update.
Ratings:
Availability: 41
Fertility: 69
Kinkiness: 22
Sexual Rumor: She says she’s saving herself… but might make an exception if you go down in a minor key.

And then the challenge cards… Kiss x1, Anal Sex x6, **** Contract x10. You think over what you have now and listen to the plays being made. Between those and the regular sex and naked kiss you already hold it’s a mixed bag. That’s two lightweights, two you’ve already landed… and one terrifying, maximum points **** Contract. You’ve watched your opponents play them while your largest hit has been public sex. But can you achieve it? It seems doubtful that Claire will be ready for anything like that.

Rhett straightens his lapels, eyes flicking over the panel like a fox on watch. “Alright, folks. Now that everyone’s selected their lady of the week, you know what time it is. Power Plays. Anyone want to shake things up?”

Graham moves first. There’s no dramatic pause, no throat-clearing monologue—just the quiet confidence of a man who’s seen one too many chessboards in too many boardrooms. “Illusions,” he says simply, almost bored. Then he lifts a finger, as if choosing a bottle of wine. “Let’s replace Cassie’s Empress of Hearts.”

The air thickens. The crowd gasps as the cameras all zero in on Cassie Li, reclining with that signature tilted smirk. Her legs cross; her fingers drum once, twice, on the armrest. Carmen Alvarez, the card she won by giving a tenured professor a tongue-powered orgasm in the middle of a restaurant, is under threat.

Rhett’s eyebrows climb. “Oof—someone’s poking the snake.”

Cassie doesn’t move much—but her eyes do something deadly. “Oh, Graham,” she says. “You do realize this isn't Whack-a-Mole, right? You don’t just smack the strongest piece and hope she vanishes. I play a BLOCK. You get one shot a week,” she purrs. “And that was yours. You had to know it would fail.”

Graham sips his whiskey, unmoved. “Of course. But while I can easily afford a 30 points drop, you, my dear Cassie, are circling the drain at -335 and just paid 50 to stop that.”

The Queen stays on her throne, showing little sign of being affected beyond the slight narrowing of her eyes. “Looking for enemies where you do not need them is seldom a good business move,” she says.

And Graham? His lip raises just at one side, an arrogant sign of assumed superiority. “But hampering a dangerous rival often is,” he comments. “You will not get a second title.”

Rhett lets the tension linger before offering, “Does anyone have a handy bunker?” he says. “Because this is starting to look like war.”

The game is very much on.

Selene doesn’t raise her voice. She doesn’t need to. When she leans forward, the entire stage seems to tilt with her.

“Milo will make a power play,” she says sweetly, tracing a circle in the air with one fingertip. “He’s requesting a Free Reserve.”

Rhett cocks his head. “Bold move. And the value?”

Selene doesn’t hesitate. “Empress of Diamonds.”

A murmur rolls through the audience like a gust of hot wind. The crowd remembers the last time they saw that card—Yvonne Moreau, the hypnotic French literature professor who nearly made Graham speak in tongues during cycle one.

“She’s back in the deck now,” Selene notes casually, as though she hadn’t already planned all of this five steps ahead. “And I think Milo’s education should continue where Graham left off.”

There’s a flicker of something in Milo’s face—not fear, not exactly. It’s the dawning realization of how much trouble he might be in, and how many people are going to enjoy watching him try to squirm out of it.

“You do want to impress me, don’t you?” Selene adds, not looking at him.

Milo swallows hard. “Always.”

Rhett gives a low whistle. “Looks like someone’s getting their PhD… in pain.”

Simon Rourke adjusts his glasses. One leg crosses over the other with deliberate calm. “Free Reserve,” he says quietly.

A few heads tilt. Simon hasn’t been flashy, but he hasn’t been entirely passive either. Amid all his fails, there was the move with the Jenny.

Rhett raises a brow. “You’re reserving a card? That’s a rare step out of the shadows, Professor. Which value?”

There’s a pause, just long enough to make people wonder if he’s stalling or calculating. Then:

“Ten of Clubs.”

And that lands like a stone in a still pond. It makes one hell of a splash with the audience before leaving an ominous silence.

Rhett’s lips part. “Ten... of Clubs? You just picked the Empress of Clubs from the draw.” His voice rises a half-tone in disbelief. “Is the silver fox chasing a royal flush?”

Cassie’s gaze narrows, intrigued despite herself. “You’ve been playing defense, Simon,” she murmurs. “Tactical, restrained, quiet. And now you’re reaching for the crown jewels?”

Selene doesn’t even try to hide her laugh. “Bold. Or suicidal. I haven’t decided yet. If you’d shown moves like this at the Christmas party last year, I MIGHT not have turned you down.”

Simon’s expression doesn’t change. “When others begin to fire wild shots,” he says, “the board clears. That’s when patterns emerge. And lines open.”

Milo raises an eyebrow. “Sounds less like a plan, more like a chess metaphor.”

Simon nods. “It’s always a chess metaphor.”

Rhett grins. “Well, whether it’s strategy or hubris, we’ve got a quiet hand reaching for loud glory. Ten of Clubs now in Free Reserve.”

He stamps the update into the board. “Let’s hope you know what you're doing, Professor. Because from the outside… it smells like ambition.”

That just leaves one left - you. With 4 power plays made this week all eyes are on you. You sit still for a beat. Everyone else has made their move—and burned their Power Play to do it. For once, the field is clear. No one can block you. No one can reflect. You have one clean shot, and you know exactly where to aim.

“Drop It.”

Rhett jerks upright like he’s been slapped. “Oh. Shit.” He leans forward, eyes wide. “Target?”

You don’t hesitate. “Ace of Diamonds.”

There’s a sound from the crowd—a collective intake, like the air itself just flinched. Selene Ravensmoor doesn’t move at first. Doesn’t even blink. But her lips part slowly, like a knife drawing from a sheath.

“That card…” she says, her voice low and cutting, “is not just a card. That is High Priestess DuPont. My coven-mother. The woman who accepted Milo’s kiss upon the blade. You think you can throw her aside like a pair of spare panties?”

Rhett doesn't dare interrupt.

Selene walks towards you, her pace measured, elegant, venomous. Her heels click like the seconds before judgment.

“You’ve made a statement, little Fresher,” she says. “One I will not forget. Not for the rest of this game. Not until your grades are in. Not until your soul burns just a little for what you've done.”

You swallow, but don't back down. Not now. The Ace of Diamonds is pulled from the board—unceremoniously dumped back into the deck.

She turns back to Milo. “And YOU didn’t keep a power play so that you could BLOCK him?”

Milo’s voice is timid as he protests. “You made me use the power play card…”

“That is irrelevant. You are the player and you gave your soul to me in that contract. So of course it is ALWAYS you in the wrong. Casse, my sweetness,” she turns to look at the returning champion. There’s a slight crack in her scowl that shows she’s being playful. Nasty, but still playful. “Bring your most vicious challenge card and we’ll make him pay.”

“Not again…” whispers Milo.

Rhett clears his throat like he’s breaking a spell. “...Well. There you have it. The Fresher’s made a power play—dead center, straight through the coven, and no one left to stop him.”

He pauses, letting the tension settle.

“And that is that. It’s time for our players to see just what they can make of their selections. Good luck out there.”