Work on getting Mike focused

You try to step back from Mike, crossing your arms over your chest to hide the provocative words on your shirt. "Stop looking at me like that," you demand, your voice wavering with the effort of resistance. "I need your help, not... whatever you're thinking."

Mike's eyes never leave your body as he circles you slowly. "Can't help what I'm thinking when you're dressed like that," he says, gesturing to your revealing outfit. "Those words on your shirt... is that what you really want?"

"No!" you insist, though your body betrays you with a flush of heat between your thighs. "The curse is doing this. These clothes just... changed on their own."

Mike raises an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. "Clothes that change themselves? Come on, baby, you can do better than that." He reaches out, his fingers brushing against the sheer fabric covering your breast. "Though I gotta say, if you really are Daniel under some spell, this is fucking poetic justice."

"What's that supposed to mean?" you ask, backing up until you hit the wall. Your heart races, not entirely from fear.

"It means," Mike says, placing his hands on either side of you against the wall, effectively caging you in, "that you always treated women like objects. Remember Alicia? Jessica? All those girls you fucked and ghosted? Now you get to see how it feels."

The proximity of his body sends your senses into overdrive. His scent—cologne mixed with something primal and male—makes your knees weak. You try to focus, to remain strong, but your resistance is crumbling like sand against a tide.

"I didn't... I wasn't that bad," you mumble, though even with your diminished intelligence, you know that's a lie.

"You were worse," Mike says, his face inches from yours now. "And if this really is you in there, Daniel, I think you deserve to learn your lesson."

Before you can respond, a sharp knock at your apartment door makes both of you freeze.

"Daniel? Are you home?" a female voice calls through the door. "It's Sophia from next door. I thought I heard voices."

Mike looks annoyed at the interruption. You recognize the name—Sophia is your neighbor, a graduate student you've flirted with aggressively in the past, though she always rebuffed your advances.

"Should we answer?" Mike whispers, his breath hot against your ear.

Before you can decide, the doorknob turns—you forgot to lock it after letting Mike in. The door swings open, and Sophia stands in the doorway, her eyes widening at the scene before her.

Sophia is a tall, athletic woman with an intellectual air about her. Today she's wearing yoga pants and a fitted tank top, clearly on her way to or from a workout. Her expression shifts from concern to confusion as she takes in the sight of you pressed against the wall by Mike.

"Oh!" she exclaims. "I'm sorry, I thought I heard... wait." Her gaze narrows as she looks at you more closely. "Who are you? Where's Daniel?"

You open your mouth to explain, but before you can speak, you notice something strange happening to Sophia. Her eyes, initially sharp with concern, begin to glaze over slightly. A flush creeps up her neck as she continues to stare at you.

"I'm... I'm Daniel," you manage to say, though your voice sounds breathless and weak.

Sophia laughs, the sound tinged with something unfamiliar—a bitter edge you've never heard from her before. "Right. And I'm the Queen of England." Her eyes drift down to the words emblazoned across your chest, and her expression hardens. "Where did you find this one, Mike? She's exactly his type—all tits and no brains."

The cruel assessment stings, especially coming from Sophia, who you always viewed as kind and level-headed. The curse is spreading its influence, twisting her perception and personality.

"No, really," you plead, pushing Mike's arm away to step toward her. "There's a curse. I can prove it—ask me anything only Daniel would know."

Sophia's eyes narrow, but there's a new heat in them as they travel down your body. "Fine. What did Daniel say to me the first time we met?"

You rack your brain, trying to remember, but the details are fuzzy. "I... I said... something about your legs? How they'd look good... wrapped around me?"

Sophia's eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "That's... actually right. But anyone could have told you that." She steps closer, her demeanor shifting subtly. "You know what? I don't care who you are. Daniel deserves this—having some bimbo in his apartment while he's who-knows-where."

You're caught between Mike behind you and Sophia advancing in front, the curse's influence strengthening with each passing second, your resistance fading like morning mist under a harsh sun.