Rhett Goes Over The Rules

Rhett lets the silence stretch for just a moment longer, letting his grin simmer as he looks across the room—his room.

Then he speaks.

“Alright, listen up. Let's go over the rules of the game!”

He gestures behind him and the screen flares to life—blinking through graphics, card suits, snapshots of faces you don’t recognize yet. The tablet in your hands follows suit.

“College Spread is a game of poker—kind of. Except the cards aren’t made of paper. They’re girls. Women. Faculty, students, TAs, even the female deans of the college. Each one comes with a value—based on her role on campus and her attractiveness as judged by comments on the student forum. The higher the rank, the bigger the points.”

He taps the screen as a digital Ace flips into view.

“You get them by doing one thing: completing a challenge. Each week, you’ll draw a new girl from the deck, and you’ll pair her with one of five Challenge Cards in your hand. That challenge might be something small, like a kiss… or it might be something a little more ambitious.”

His grin widens just slightly.

“You’ve got seven days to make it happen—with her consent, always. That’s not a suggestion. It’s a rule. No ****, no ****, no gray areas -- no getting them so drunk or high they can't make truly consensual decisions. Cross the line, and you’re not just out of the game. You’re going to be explaining yourself to a real judge. Got it?”

The room is quiet. He takes that as understanding.

“If you complete the challenge, you can either lock in the girl and the score that week—or hold her and try to build a better hand over time. Think poker hands. Flushes. Straights. Full Houses. Stack those right and you multiply your score by a lot.”

He paces again, slowly.

“Each month, we tally points. Bottom score gets eliminated. Their girls go back in the deck. Their plans go in the trash. You want to win? Don’t be last.”

“Oh—and don’t get too comfortable. You can only hold up to five girls at a time. Once you’ve got five? You play the hand. No second chances.”

He stops center stage again, hands folded behind his back.

“Questions?”

There are none. Or at least, none anyone dares to ask.