The water continued its steady cascade, but Eric barely registered the sensation anymore. His crystalline blue eyes remained fixed on the impossible screen floating before him, his mind racing through explanations and finding none that made sense.
'This is insane,' he thought. 'Completely, utterly insane.'
The glowing text lingered for a moment longer, then faded. Eric's breath caught as new text began to materialize, forming with deliberate precision across the translucent surface.
‐‐‐
[Debauchery Interface]
[Personal] [Status]
[Shop] [Quests]
[Partners] [Perks]
[Inventory]
‐‐‐
Eric stared at the interface, his PhD-trained mind trying to categorize what he was seeing. It looked like something out of a video game. A menu system. Stats and progression mechanics made digital and somehow projected directly into his vision.
'This can't be real,' he thought, even as he continued staring at it. 'This is a hallucination. Has to be. Maybe I hit my head last night. Maybe—'
Knock knock knock.
The sound at the bathroom door made Eric jump, his heart hammering. The screen remained floating in front of him, unbothered by the interruption.
"Eric?" Isabelle's voice filtered through the door, tinged with concern. "Everything alright in there? You've been in the shower for a while."
Eric blinked, finally registering that the water had gone lukewarm. How long had he been standing here? Five minutes? Ten?
"Yeah," he called back, his voice sounding strained even to his own ears. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just... waking up."
There was a pause. Then Isabelle's voice came again, lower, sultrier. "Want some company? I could help you wake up properly."
Any other morning, Eric might have considered it. Isabelle was beautiful, enthusiastic, and clearly insatiable. But right now, with this impossible thing floating in his vision and his mind spinning with questions, the last thing he needed was another round.
'I need to get home,' he thought urgently. 'I need to figure out what the hell this is.'
"Already finishing up," Eric called back, forcing his voice to sound normal, casual. "Be out in a minute."
He could practically hear her pout through the door. "Alright. But you're missing out."
Eric turned his attention back to the screen, reaching out tentatively to touch it again. His hand passed through harmlessly, disturbing nothing. The interface remained steady, waiting.
'How do I make it go away?' he wondered.
As if responding to his thought, the screen flickered once, then vanished. Eric blinked at the empty air where it had been, then quickly finished his shower. The hot water had done nothing to settle his nerves.
He dried off quickly, wrapping the towel around his waist, and opened the bathroom door.
Isabelle was waiting in the bedroom, still gloriously naked, sprawled across the rumpled sheets like an invitation made flesh. Her dark hair fanned across the pillow, and her eyes tracked Eric's movement with obvious hunger.
"There you are," she purred, sitting up. The morning light through the floor-to-ceiling windows painted her skin gold. "Come back to bed. We have all morning."
Eric moved to where his clothes were scattered, gathering them efficiently. "I should get going. Got some things to take care of today."
"Things?" Isabelle slid off the bed, moving toward him with deliberate sensuality. "What things could possibly be more important than this?"
She pressed against him, her hands sliding up his chest. Eric could feel her warmth, smell her perfume mixed with the scent of their activities from the night before. Under normal circumstances, his body would have responded immediately. But his mind was elsewhere, spinning with questions about glowing screens and impossible systems.
"Rain check?" he offered, gently but firmly removing her hands and pulling on his jeans.
Isabelle's expression shifted, confusion mixing with hurt. "Did I do something wrong? Last night was... I thought you enjoyed it."
"I did," Eric assured her, meaning it. "You were amazing. I just really need to get home."
But Isabelle wasn't giving up that easily. As Eric pulled on his shirt, she moved in front of him, blocking his path to the door. Her hands traced down her own body in a deliberately provocative display.
"One more round," she breathed. "Just one. I'll make it worth your while. I can transfer another bonus right now."
Eric hesitated. The money was tempting, always was. But something about the system, about what had happened in the shower, felt urgent. Important. Like standing at a crossroads without knowing which path led where.
"Isabelle—"
"Please." She pressed against him again, her lips finding his neck. "I can't remember the last time I felt this alive. My husband, he doesn't... you make me feel wanted, Eric. Desirable. Don't leave yet."
There was real vulnerability in her voice now, beneath the seduction. Eric recognized it, the loneliness that money couldn't fill. He'd seen it in dozens of clients. Hell, he'd felt it himself in those late nights alone in his apartment, PhD on the wall and emptiness in his chest.
He checked his phone quickly. 8:23 AM. His apartment was a thirty-minute drive away. He had nowhere to be, no other clients scheduled.
'But I need to figure out what's happening to me,' he thought.
Isabelle mistook his hesitation for consideration. Her hands grew bolder, sliding down his chest toward his belt. "I'll pay triple your rate. Right now. Just stay a little longer."
Eric caught her hands gently but firmly. "I really can't."
The hurt in her eyes deepened. "Is it me? Am I too old? Not attractive enough? I know I'm not twenty anymore, but—"
"Stop." Eric's voice was firm. "You're gorgeous, Isabelle. Absolutely stunning. This isn't about you."
"Then what is it about?"
'A mysterious glowing screen that appeared in my shower and claims I've unlocked something called the Debauchery System,' Eric thought but obviously couldn't say. "Personal stuff. I just need to get home and sort some things out."
Isabelle stepped back, wrapping her arms around herself. The confident seductress from moments ago had been replaced by a vulnerable woman standing naked in morning light, suddenly aware of her nakedness.
Eric felt a pang of guilt. He'd been doing this job long enough to know that his clients needed more than just physical satisfaction. They needed to feel special, wanted, like they mattered.
'One more minute won't hurt,' he decided.
He closed the distance between them, pulling Isabelle into his arms. She tensed, surprised, then melted against him. Eric kissed her, not the performative kisses from last night, but something slower, more genuine. His hands found the curve of her waist, pulling her closer.
Isabelle moaned softly into his mouth, her body responding immediately. Eric's hand slid lower, gripping her ass and squeezing hard. Then he pulled back and delivered a sharp smack that echoed in the bedroom.
Smack!
"Oh!" Isabelle gasped, eyes wide with surprise and arousal.
Eric gave her one more deep kiss, then stepped back with a smile. "That's a promise for next time."
Isabelle's hand went to where he'd spanked her, her expression dazed and delighted. "Next time," she repeated breathlessly. "When's next time?"
"Soon." Eric grabbed his jacket, heading for the door. "I'll text you."
"You better." Her voice had gone husky again, sultry with promise. "Because I'll be thinking about you, Eric Reid-Leveson. Constantly."
Eric left the condo with Isabelle's laughter following him into the hallway, the sound equal parts satisfied and anticipatory. As the door closed behind him, he let out a long breath.
'What the hell just happened in there? Not with Isabelle. With the... system.'
The elevator ride down felt longer than it had going up. Eric's mind churned with possibilities, each more absurd than the last. Hallucination seemed most likely. Maybe he'd had a small stroke. Or maybe there'd been something in the wine, some designer drug he'd never encountered before.
But it had felt so real. So solid and present, despite being translucent.
The doorman nodded as Eric passed through the lobby. "Good morning, sir."
"Morning," Eric replied automatically.
His car, a modest sedan that was reliable if unimpressive, sat in the visitor parking. Eric slid behind the wheel and just sat there for a moment, staring at nothing.
'Okay,' he thought. 'Let's approach this logically. What do I know?'
One: He'd heard a sound, impossibly loud, inside his head.
Two: A screen had appeared, floating in the air, showing text that knew his name and his exact count of sexual partners.
Three: It had called itself the Debauchery System.
Four: It had shown an interface with multiple options. Personal, Status, Shop, Quests, Partners, Perks, Inventory.
Five: It had disappeared when he wanted it to.
'If I'm hallucinating, it's the most specific, coherent hallucination I've ever heard of,' Eric mused.
He started the car and pulled out of the parking lot, pointing toward his apartment across town. Stardale's morning traffic was light, giving him plenty of time to think as he drove.
His phone buzzed. He checked it at a red light. A notification from his banking app.
Transfer received: $4,800.00 from I. DeVane
Eric's eyebrows rose. His usual rate was $1,200 for the night. Isabelle had promised double, which would be $2,400. But she'd sent $4,800.
'Double the double,' he realized. 'She really didn't want me to leave.'
Another notification appeared.
Transfer received: $1,000.00 from I. DeVane
Note: "For the kiss. Worth every penny."
Eric couldn't help but smile. 'A thousand dollars for a kiss and a spanking. Maybe I should have stayed.'
But no. The system, whatever it was, felt more important than any amount of money Isabelle could throw at him.
He pulled into a drive-through, suddenly ravenous. The dashboard clock read 9:15 AM. When had he last eaten? Dinner with Isabelle yesterday, before things had gotten physical. His stomach growled in complaint.
"Welcome to Barney's Breakfast. What can I get you?"
"Two breakfast sandwiches, hash browns, large coffee. Black."
"That'll be $12.47. Pull forward."
Eric paid, collected his food, and continued driving. He ate mechanically, barely tasting the food, his mind still spinning.
He checked his phone again at another red light, pulling up his banking app properly this time.
Current Balance: $8,347.23
The number looked impressive at first glance. The $5,800 from Isabelle had pushed him comfortably into the black. But Eric knew better than to be impressed by numbers that wouldn't last.
'Life in Stardale is expensive,' he thought grimly. 'In as much as the money seems like a lot, it's not worth much.'
He ran through the mental calculations he performed every month. Rent was due next week, $1,100 for his modest one-bedroom. Utilities would be another $150, maybe more if he'd used the AC too much. Phone bill, $80. Car insurance, $200. Gas, groceries, gym membership, the cologne and clothes he needed to maintain his professional appearance.
'That leaves me with maybe $5,800 until the next client,' he calculated. 'And in Stardale, that's barely two months of comfortable living. One unexpected expense and I'm back to counting pennies.'
It was the trap he'd been in for two years. The money looked good on paper, felt good in the moment, but it never quite translated into actual security. Just enough to stay afloat, never enough to build anything lasting.
'Is this really all there is?' The thought came unbidden. 'Two years of this, and I'm not any closer to... what? What am I even working toward?'
The question bothered him more than he wanted to admit.