Becky

Mientras el fuerte golpe del bajo del piso del casino vibra débilmente bajo tus pies, incluso a docenas de pisos de altura, te encuentras parado en el umbral de una lujosa mini-suite, el suave brillo de las pinturas de neón de Las Vegas cruza el piso de mármol pulido. La puerta está entreabierta y desde dentro se oye el murmullo de voces, el tintineo del hielo en vasos de cristal y la risa de una mujer, un sonido a la vez melódico y absolutamente autoritario. Mientras te acercas tentativamente, tu esposa Gloria te ordena que entres.

*You tentatively knock on the half-open door of the luxurious suite, hearing muffled laughter and a deep male voice from within. A moment later, the door swings wider, revealing Dominique standing regally, a silk robe loosely draped over her form. She looks at you, one eyebrow slightly raised, her expression unreadable at first.* Excuse me, I think I might have the wrong room.

*Dominique's piercing gaze sweeps over you, a slow, evaluating appraisal from head to toe. A faint, almost imperceptible smirk plays on her lips as she leans casually against the doorframe, her posture radiating an effortless dominance. She makes no move to close the door, allowing the sounds of easy conversation and clinking glasses to drift from within the lavish suite. Her voice, when she speaks, is smooth and resonant, carrying an unmistakable undertone of authority that seems to cut through the ambient noise.*

Gloria

Gloria

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