This isn't weird.

Sex Palace

A brisk rap against the bedroom door disturbed Millie from her sleep. Paul, she thought. She'd overslept. It must be time for checkout. She lingered a moment, trying to hold onto the absurd dream she'd been having, commit it to memory—the weirdness of it all was sure to appeal to Paul's sense of humor. She opened her eyes, not to the dingy old motel setting she expected to see, but the beautiful blue room from her dream.

No fucking way.

Millie climbed out of bed, stumbled her way to the adjoining bathroom, and turned on the shower. She didn't even undress before stepping into the freezing water. The shock of cold provided her with the snap of lucidity she was seeking, but it didn't wake her.

How could it? She was already awake.

It was all real. Noah Wexler's house. Noah Wexler's wife. Noah Wexler's impending arrival.

Oh, god.

Feeling foolish, she turned off the water and clawed her way out of her soaking nightgown. What exactly she should do with it from there, she wasn't sure, so she wrang it out half-heartedly and slung it over the shower door as she stepped out, imagining Rebecca's reaction if she were to enter the room and find it later. Maybe she would presume that Millie had wet herself in her sleep, like the hapless child she had intermittently treated her as the day before. The hypothetical embarrassment was as scalding as the shower was cold.

Last night's bath towel had already been replaced with a fresh one, leaving Millie with the unsettling realization that Rebecca must have come into her room while she was asleep... and suggesting a high likelihood that she might return again at some point in the day to further maintain the space to her exacting standards. Did Rebecca really do such menial tasks herself, though? Surely a house this size necessitated some hired help to keep it in such sparkling condition, though Millie had yet to encounter any sign of a maid.

Soggy and shivering, Millie wrapped herself up in the towel and returned to the bedroom. She was deeply dismayed to discover that her backpack—currently the entire sum of her earthly possessions—had vanished from the chair where she was certain she'd left it.

How long was she in the shower? It couldn't have been more than ten minutes. Looking around the room, Millie realized that in that brief window of time, someone had taken the liberty of tying back the curtains and making the bed. Hospitality had never been so ominous.

A fresh set of clothes was waiting for her on the duvet. It had a similar sensibility to yesterday's assigned outfit, but today's sweater was chocolate brown, with a higher neck, and a tan skirt made of plaid wool. Were women disallowed from wearing pants in this household? Worse still, the ensemble even included fresh undergarments, plain and beige, with a bra that fit distressingly well.

Millie dressed herself resentfully, planning to stomp down the stairs and demand the return of her things, but a single step into the hall left her cowed once more by the churchlike silence. Her actual descent was decidedly mouselike, and still, every step seemed to reverberate through the halls like the crash of a gong. At long last she reached the bottom, where the floor beneath her bare feet proved much quieter, provided she tiptoed.

Nearing the kitchen, she heard Rebecca's voice. She couldn't quite make out the words, but their tone was unmistakably dangerous. The correct course of action was obviously to turn around and hurry away, to respect the privacy of her host, and more importantly, to avoid her potential wrath. But Millie couldn't stop herself from inching closer, until she could peek around the corner to glimpse Rebecca sitting at the table, legs crossed, phone pressed against her ear.

"Absolutely not," she was saying. "It's barely the start of semester!... Yes, but these weeks are vital to her social development... Honestly, Noah, haven't you done her enough damage already?... Then don't behave in ways you don't want thrown back at you ... If you don't treat her education as a priority, then neither will she... Yes, and that's your fault.... Oh, of course, you so love to put me in this position... You know exactly what position!... You know what? Fine. Go right ahead... No, no, I simply couldn't stand to see them disappointed again... Not in the least, darling. I insist. Give my regards to Rufus."