Valentine’s Day came, and my husband said he wanted to try something exciting. He decided to take me to an immersive role-playing studio. In one of the intimate scenes, the NPC I was acting with was a pale-skinned beauty. She was crying so pitifully that I thought it was part of the act. But it turned out, she was actually asking for my help. Not long after the New Year, Valentine’s Day arrived. It also marked the fifth anniversary of my marriage to Randall Burns. Unlike other couples whose married life had settled into routine, Randall and I still kept the excitement and passion we had when we were dating. The secret to maintaining this passion was, first, money and second, the sense of “novelty” we brought into our intimate life. We were both people who craved excitement and adventure, which is why we hadn’t had kids yet. But as I hit thirty, I started feeling the fatigue, while he was still full of energy. That day, after work, I was cooking dinner in the kitchen when Randall loosened his tie and slid his arms around my waist from behind, teasing me. After so many years together, he still knew all my weak spots, and I quickly gave in to his advances. “Babe, tonight I’m taking you somewhere I know you’ll love,” he whispered playfully in my ear, grinning wickedly. Blushing, I nodded, but then remembered something and tilted my head, asking him, “By the way, your mom called earlier today. She said she was envious of people with grandkids. We’re both thirty now, and I wouldn’t mind having a baby if you want…” “I don’t want kids,” he cut me off abruptly, his tone a bit tense. “Weren’t you going to get that birth control implant in a few days like we talked about?” he asked, steering the conversation back. Randall was referring to the hormonal birth control implant, which is placed in a woman’s arm to prevent pregnancy for an extended period. I had once suggested he get a vasectomy, but he’d insisted it would ruin his fun as a man. I hadn’t made up my mind about being child-free for life, so I’d been putting it off. “Fine, I’ll schedule the appointment in a few days,” I said, nodding reluctantly. He was thrilled, kissing me and urging me to get ready so we could head out for our Valentine’s Day plans. The place he took me was about an hour and a half away, in an entertainment district far from downtown Los Angeles. It was 9 PM, and the streets were buzzing with neon lights and music. As soon as we walked in, a hostess handed Randall a ticket with a smile. “Good to see you, Mr. Burns,” she said warmly. Her familiarity with him made me pause—had Randall been here before? Sensing my doubt, he quickly explained that he’d scouted the place beforehand to surprise me for Valentine’s Day. “This is only my second time here. I really wanted to bring you to experience it,” he said excitedly, squeezing my hand. At the desk, the staff explained that this was an immersive role-playing studio, offering live-action script experiences with both players and NPCs. Due to its “extremely realistic” nature, the prices were steep, and it operated on an exclusive VIP membership basis. Randall had booked a script called Rose Island. It was about a domineering man who kidnapped a girl named Eva and held her captive on a deserted island for 365 days. It was a tale of twisted, forced love—a very intense and dramatic storyline. The description alone sounded thrilling. I followed my husband into the large space, where over a dozen NPCs and other players were already gathered. From the room next door, I could hear a woman screaming. I suddenly felt a bit anxious. Was this experience really that immersive? Seeing my hesitation, one of the staff members suggested, “Why don’t we have an NPC play with Mr. Burns first, and you can watch from the side?” Randall looked at me, seeking my approval. I nodded. “Okay, honey, you go first. I’ll watch and see how it’s done.” As soon as I said that, the actress playing Eva stepped out. She had pale skin, striking beauty, and wore a light blue slip dress that barely covered her body. Her figure was full and captivating, her expression timid. She looked just like the shy girl from the script. “Mr. Burns, shall we start?” she said softly. “Alright, babe, I’ll show you how it’s done,” Randall replied, unable to keep his eyes from drifting to her exposed chest.
Suddenly, I felt uneasy. The girl couldn’t have been older than eighteen or nineteen, and something about her made me wary. Yet I stood there, watching as my husband stepped into the scene. Through the glass door, I could see the progress of the script. The NPCs were all incredibly dedicated to their roles. Randall, too, was fully immersed, as if he really were the powerful mafia boss from the script. In the middle of a heated scene, Randall and Eva had a confrontation. Suddenly, Randall pinned her down on the ground. It was a scene with just the two of them—none of the other NPCs were around. The dim lighting made it hard to tell what was real and what was acting. I stared at the two of them, watching as her pale legs trembled in the air. Terrifying screams filled the room. “You want to run? You think you can run? If you try again, I’ll break your legs, understand?” Randall’s violent growl sounded way too real! “Please… help me…” The girl glanced my way, her disheveled hair clinging to her damp skin. Her tearful expression looked as if she was begging for help. The performance felt so authentic that I panicked and ran to the staff, shouting for them to stop. But the staff told me once a scene started, it couldn’t be interrupted. In a frenzy, I found the main power switch and pulled it, cutting off all the electricity in the studio! For about ten minutes, we were all plunged into darkness. I had no idea what had happened in the room during that time, but I heard faint, sorrowful sobbing. When Randall finally emerged, he looked disappointed, scolding me, “Babe, why did you shut off the power? What’s the rush?” “I thought it was too real. I was scared watching you two. I tried to get them to stop, but they wouldn’t.” A few minutes later, the girl came out as well, her eyes red with tears, her clothes disheveled, and her legs shaking. It made me wonder if they had really gone too far. I hurried over to her, asking, “Are you okay? Did you get hurt?” That’s when I noticed her name tag. It read Jasmine. Jasmine looked at me, startled. “No, it’s just part of the script. Randall was really into it,” she said, her voice calm, completely different from the terrified girl I’d seen through the glass. I watched as she walked backstage, catching a brief, uncomfortable glance between her and Randall. Because I had shut off the power, several players had their sessions interrupted, and the studio demanded compensation. I ended up paying quite a bit to cover the damages. While I was sorting out the payment and apologizing, Randall sat in the corner, smoking a cigarette—something he never did. But I knew this behavior all too well. It was his after-satisfaction smoke. That Valentine’s Day left a bitter taste in my mouth. We didn’t even bother with the candlelit dinner, ending the night in an awkward rush. Together, Randall and I made over two million a year. We lived in a large, detached house. Financially, we were well off, and I was living the life many women dream of. By all accounts, I should’ve turned a blind eye to his behavior. But I’ve always been a stickler when it comes to fidelity. That night, every time I closed my eyes, I heard those horrifying screams. I couldn’t sleep. Randall blamed me for “not knowing how to have fun,” and started staying out, crashing at other places for days on end. Frustrated, I turned to my best friend, Tina Simmons, and told her everything. Tina tried to comfort me. “Men are always looking for new thrills. Besides, you said it’s a legit business. There’s no way anything shady was going on.” I sighed and told her I was thinking about getting the birth control implant to help smooth things over with Randall. “Randall insists on it. The doctor suggested I think it over first, though. I’m still young, after all. Do I really want to give up on having kids forever?” Tina was surprised. “It’s rare for a man who can have kids to feel that way.” She suggested I talk to Randall again. But my heart sank even more. Was he just avoiding responsibility, or did he truly never want to have a child with me? Recently, Randall had been staying out more and more. I got suspicious and linked my Uber account to his as an emergency contact, allowing me to see his rides and transactions. To my surprise, I noticed that during his workdays, there were several trips longer than usual. I also found some large transactions in the records, payments for various purchases at big shopping malls. The moment I saw this, I knew something was off. That night, I planned to confront Randall about it. When he came home, he gave me a huge hug and surprised me with a diamond necklace—a three-carat beauty. “Happy birthday, babe! You completely forgot, didn’t you? Good thing I went all over town to pick this out for you,” he said with a cheeky grin. I frowned a little, feeling a mix of guilt and gratitude. So that’s why he’d been out so much—he was shopping for me. That night, everything between us was smooth, even intimate. It was almost as if he had learned a few new tricks, maybe from all the online “research” he’d been doing. Before I went to sleep, I casually checked my phone. To my shock, I noticed that Randall had quietly disabled the location sharing and payment notifications I’d set up. He’d switched everything to private.
My stomach dropped. Something was definitely wrong. To clear my doubts, I suggested that we return to the immersive role-playing studio over the weekend, and I invited a few friends along as well. This time, I picked a standard murder mystery script instead of something provocative. It was much cheaper than the dramatic, steamy script we’d done before. My friends were all having a great time, but Randall kept yawning and looking bored. I leaned over and whispered, “Honey, you love role-playing games. Why aren’t you participating? Our friends are here, playing along with you.” Randall looked a bit guilty and gave a half-hearted smile. “Sorry, babe. I’ve been exhausted from work and stayed up late last night finishing a presentation.” I knew right away he was lying. I had watched him fall asleep the minute we finished dinner the night before, snoring like a log. And he hadn’t woken up until late that Saturday morning. The only reason he wasn’t interested was because this game wasn’t stimulating enough for him. Clearly, his thrill threshold had gotten much higher. Annoyed, I excused myself to the restroom, letting a staff member take my place in the game for a while. Leaving the dim game room, I wandered down the hall, finding myself in the same area where Randall had played the intense script the last time. They had set up a translucent curtain here, adding a layer of shame to the public performances, making it even more exhilarating for players. That’s when I saw Jasmine again. This time, she was playing a character from a historical setting, her shoulders exposed and her skin painted with fake bruises. She was wearing a rabbit mask, giving her an air of mystery and fragility. I glanced at the script one of the staff was holding. The title was Midnight Elegance, and the dialogue, full of vulgar innuendos, confirmed that it was another sexually explicit storyline. A group of men dressed as soldiers approached Jasmine, leering at her. One of them sneered, “Your Majesty, even if we die, we’ll die in your bed.” The lead actor reached up and pulled a sharp hairpin from her head, using it to slice through the ties of her dress. Jasmine was left wearing nothing but a scarlet undergarment, her eyes filled with tears as she whimpered, “Please, brothers, don’t…” At one point, she turned to look directly at me. The rabbit mask was ripped away, revealing her terrified, helpless eyes. The curtain suddenly dropped, and I couldn’t see what happened next. All I heard were her agonized cries, mingling with the sound of simulated thunder and lightning. My curiosity grew. Something was very wrong here, and I couldn’t shake the feeling. I started searching online and found that this role-playing studio was indeed a legitimate, registered business. By all appearances, nothing seemed shady. But the unusual nature of this studio and Jasmine’s reactions left me suspicious. One evening, when Randall said he was working late, I pretended to go to the hospital for pre-implantation blood work. In reality, I swiped his VIP Membership Card and went back to the immersive role-playing studio on my own. I disguised myself with a mask, not wanting the staff to report back to Randall. When they asked me what type of script I wanted, I hesitated. Then, on a whim, I picked one that involved a Black male NPC in a dominant role, something along the lines of a twisted love story. The staff smiled knowingly and asked, “Would you prefer the explicit version?” “What do you mean?” I raised an eyebrow. “A lot of working women come here to relieve stress. They usually go for the hidden version of this script—it’s more expensive, though,” she explained with a conspiratorial wink. “Trust me, you’ll love it.” I threw caution to the wind and paid nearly three times the regular price, eager to see what was really going on. Still in my mask, I entered the set. Before long, the NPC I was paired with appeared. His name was Jack—a tall, muscular Black man, built like a bodybuilder. He looked like the kind of guy you’d see on the cover of a fitness magazine. He was only wearing a pair of shorts, his muscles rippling under his dark skin, veins bulging in his arms. I couldn’t help but let my gaze drift downward. When I noticed the bulge in his shorts, my face flushed with heat. Black men certainly came in larger sizes than I was used to. After getting familiar with the script, we all entered the room. I had specifically requested a fully enclosed space, no glass windows to the outside. We ran through the basic parts of the script, but my heart pounded in anticipation of the scene I was most curious about—the explicit scene. My heart raced as I watched the other NPCs leave the room, leaving me and Jack alone. “Baby, you’re so sexy. I’m coming!” he growled, his breathing growing heavier. Before I could react, he had lifted me up, pinning me against the wall. “Help! Somebody, please—!” I screamed, but his strength was overpowering. My dress was ripped from my shoulder, the cold air biting at my exposed skin. A shiver ran down my spine as I realized how truly helpless I was. I couldn’t help but shiver as my skin was exposed to the cool air. An unnameable feeling ran from the top of my head to the soles of my feet. I tried to escape, but he held me firmly, and his rough palms touched my waist and probed upward.
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