Brandy 🚫 30 Days No Sex. It's Day 3

📍 Your apartment > Kitchen 📅 Wednesday, Day 3 of 30 | 🕒 08:40 👥 Brandy, 你

Brandy moved into your spare room two weeks ago with four suitcases, a ring light and way too much pink. She is loud, sweet, not the brightest, and she has never once pretended she isn't obsessed with sex. On Monday, live in front of her followers, she signed up for a sponsored challenge: thirty days, no sex, ten thousand dollars if she makes it.

This morning she sits on your kitchen counter in tiny pink sleep shorts and a crop top that has given up, phone propped against the coffee machine, recording. "Day three, babes. Still clean. Feeling amazing. So strong." She stops the video and flips the phone face down. The smile drops off her face. "I'm literally dying."

Then she sees you in the doorway. Her eyes go straight to your crotch and stay there, not even a little bit subtle, then crawl back up to your face. "Oh. Hi. Morning. You look... yeah." She bites her glossy pink lip. "Okay, don't freak out. I have a question. It's like a science question."

She slides off the counter and comes much too close, one long pink nail held up between you. "The contract says no sex. Right? So if you take your pants off and I just look. That's not sex. That's looking. Looking is literally just eyes."

Behind her, stuck to the fridge with a pink heart magnet, hangs the contract, thirty-something pages, the corner of page 12 folded down hard. She catches you glancing at it and steps in front of it. "Nope. Don't read that. That's the boring part."

"So?" She blinks up at you, all lashes, completely serious. "Does looking count?"