The escort's curse

Opening scene

The restaurant was the kind of place that charged too much for small plates and dim lighting. Soft jazz drifted under the low murmur of conversation. Candles flickered on white tablecloths. Jess had chosen a simple black dress that hugged her waist just enough to feel special without trying too hard. Leo sat across from her, sleeves rolled, smiling the way he did when he was actually present. They were halfway through the appetizer when the noise arrived. Two women dropped into the booth right beside them, laughing too loud, perfume sharp and sweet. Short skirts, high heels, tops that left almost nothing to the imagination. One had platinum hair that fell in deliberate waves; the other wore a tight red dress that rode high when she sat. They ordered cocktails by brand and volume, then started trading stories about clients and rates without lowering their voices. Jess’s fork paused. She glanced sideways, then back at Leo, and rolled her eyes—quick, sharp, unmistakable. The platinum blonde caught it. She went quiet for half a second. Then she smiled. Not the friendly kind. The kind that said she’d decided something. While her friend kept talking, the blonde leaned just far enough that her elbow brushed the edge of their table. She locked eyes with Jess and murmured something under her breath, soft enough that only the two of them could hear it. The words didn’t sound like English. A strange, prickling heat slid across the back of Jess’s neck and settled low in her stomach. The blonde sat back, still smiling, and turned to her friend as if nothing had happened. Jess blinked. The feeling faded almost as fast as it came. She shook her head and reached for her wine. “You okay?” Leo asked. “Yeah. Just… some people.” She forced a small laugh and tried to focus on him again. Across the aisle, the two women ordered another round and laughed even louder. Jess told herself she was fine. The evening would continue the way it was supposed to. She didn’t notice the way her posture had already shifted a fraction—shoulders a little looser, chin tilted just slightly higher. Or the faint warmth still lingering under her skin. The curse had already begun.

Turn 1 of 16

Jess notices her nails have grown significantly longer and more glamorous. Panicking, she excuses herself and rushes to the bathroom.

Jess glanced down at her hands while Leo spoke about his day at the office, and the sight made her breath catch sharply in her throat. Her nails, usually short and unpolished from years of practical habits, had lengthened noticeably in the last few minutes. They curved elegantly now, tipped with a glossy coat of deep crimson that caught the candlelight like fresh lacquer from a salon. She flexed her fingers experimentally, feeling the unfamiliar weight and the way they clicked softly against the stem of her wine glass. A strange warmth pulsed beneath her skin again, echoing that odd moment when the platinum blonde had locked eyes with her earlier.

She set her glass down with a faint clink that sounded too loud in her ears. Panic rose in her chest, hot and insistent, as she tried to process what she was seeing. This could not be happening, not on a simple date night that was supposed to be about reconnecting with Leo. Her mind raced through explanations—maybe the lighting, maybe a trick of the dim restaurant ambiance—but the evidence was right there on her own hands. She shifted in her seat, her posture unconsciously straightening a little more as if drawn by some invisible thread.

"Leo, I need to use the restroom," Jess said abruptly, her voice carrying a slight edge that she hoped he would not notice. She pushed back from the table before he could respond fully, her black dress whispering against her thighs as she stood. The movement felt different somehow, her hips swaying just a fraction more than usual as she navigated between the tables. The two escorts at the next booth were still laughing and chatting, their voices a grating reminder that made Jess's skin prickle with renewed judgment mixed with an unsettling undercurrent of curiosity.

The walk to the bathroom seemed longer than it should have, the soft jazz from the speakers now humming with a rhythm that matched the growing heat in her stomach. Jess kept her hands tucked close to her sides, afraid someone might see the dramatic nails and comment. She pushed through the door into the tiled sanctuary of the ladies' room, the cooler air doing little to calm her racing thoughts. Leaning over the sink, she stared at her reflection under the brighter lights, turning her hands this way and that while her heart hammered against her ribs.

The curse's first tangible mark stared back at her from the mirror, glamorous and utterly out of place on her usually understated frame. Jess ran her fingers through her hair, noting how it seemed a touch fuller already, and wondered what else might be shifting without her awareness. She splashed water on her face, the droplets tracing cool paths down her neck, but the warmth inside only deepened. Part of her wanted to march back out and confront the blonde woman, yet another part—the one that was just beginning to stir—felt an odd pull toward staying hidden and examining these changes further in private.