Magi has to go to the hotel

The cold glow of the cell phone screen lit up Magi's face in the luxurious powder room of the Hotel Diamante. She had taken refuge there, away from the gaze of the lobby, to make the call she hated most in the world. The marble walls and gold faucets seemed to mock her anxiety.

She slid her finger across the screen and selected the contact that simply read "M". The ringtone sounded, a monotone beep that felt obscenely normal.

"Report," May's voice on the other end was clear, cutting, as if she were in the middle of a board meeting and granting her a microsecond of her invaluable time.

"Sofia is in," Magi said, forcing her voice into a neutrality she didn't feel. The echo of her words bounced off the spotless tiles. "She signed. She accepted the modifications."

There was a very brief pause. Magi could almost visualize May processing the information, calculating the value of the new acquisition against the insolence of negotiating.

"Good. It’s not optimal, but it is manageable. Your efficiency is... acceptable today," May conceded, her tone that of someone jotting down a mental note. "Don't get distracted. Focus on tonight's appointment. Penthouse Suite. Absolute punctuality."

The click of the call ending was as dry and abrupt as always.

Magi turned off the screen and leaned against the cold marble sink. The reflection staring back at her from the mirror looked pale and alien. She had complied. She had sold another soul. The guilt was a metallic taste in her mouth.

Upon leaving the bathroom, a shadow separated from a column near the elevators. It was Julia. She was dressed in simple clothes—a loose jacket and jeans—but her posture was rigid, her eyes huge and filled with a panic that seemed on the verge of overflowing. She appeared to have arrived just moments ago.

"Did you come alone?" Magi asked, lowering her voice. The phone felt like a brick in her bag.

Julia nodded, swallowing hard. Her gaze was evasive.

"May... sent me a message. She said to meet you here. That you... that you had the instructions."

Magi nodded bitterly. "The instructions." The perfect euphemism for the next layer of their joint humiliation.

"Let's go," she said, heading toward the elevators with determination. "We have to pick up the outfit."

The elevator ride to the 12th floor was a tense, golden silence. Neither looked at the other; both watched the numbers change above the door like condemned women watching their hour approach. The soft ding upon arrival sounded like a muffled gunshot.

The hallway was carpeted and silent. They walked to room 1204. It wasn't the Penthouse suite, but a standard room serving as a makeshift dressing room. Magi swiped the magnetic card May had given her. The green light blinked, and the lock opened with a subtle clunk.

Inside, the room was spotless, but on the bed, contrasting brutally with the sober elegance of the place, rested two dresses laid out with surgical precision.

They were two perverse creations.

For Magi. A long "shirt-dress," glacial white, made of silk so fine it was practically diaphanous. There was nothing underneath. Any supposed modesty in the design was a mockery. Under any light, it would reveal every line of her body with obscene clarity.

For Julia. A black velvet slip dress, apparently modest from the front, but with the back completely open from the shoulders to the coccyx. A black satin bow hung at kidney height, a cruel ornament that served only to emphasize the total exposure of her back. It was so short that Julia would have to measure every movement.

Hanging from a rack were two pairs of stiletto heels, so high they were instruments of ****.

Julia let out a stifled gasp upon seeing them. Her hand flew instinctively to her back, as if she could already feel the cold air on her bare skin.

"I can't," she whispered, stepping back toward the door. "Magi, I can't wear that."

Magi grabbed her by the arm, harder than necessary. "Yes, you can," she said, her voice rough with tension. "Because if you don't, what comes next will be worse. For both of us." May's threat regarding Julia if she failed was clear. "Get dressed."

It was an order, not a comfort. There was no comfort to offer.

They turned their backs to each other, an act of false modesty in the empty room, and took off their street clothes. The air conditioning goosebumped their skin instantly. Magi sheathed herself in the ghost-silk dress. The fabric was a frozen, vulgar whisper against her skin. Every movement made the material cling and flow, outlining everything.

Julia struggled with the velvet dress. The material, heavy in the front, was a betrayal in the back. Every breath made the open neckline gape even wider, exposing the full curve of her spine. The satin bow grazed her skin like a taunt.

They looked at themselves in the closet mirror. Two parodies of elegance. Two expensive wrappers for the same product: their submission.

"Ready?" Magi asked, her reflection appearing pale and distant.

Julia, eyes glassy, nodded. There were no more words.

They left the room and headed for the elevator that would take them to the top floor. Their heels clicked on the carpet like panic-stricken heartbeats. Each step was a condemnation. Each whisper of Magi's silk, each inch of Julia's exposed back, was a reminder that the game was about to begin.