Sunday was a day off for the camera crews, who went home, and the contestants, who were left to entertain themselves. Most spent the morning exercising -- pole-dancing, Pilates, yoga, tai chi, Zumba, weightlifting, swimming, table tennis, shooting hoops. Others settled for pool, cards or chess, or queued to use the gaming platforms and computers: they could access the web, but no outgoing communication was allowed unless approved by Fuxtel. A goth girl offered tarot readings, but had few takers; no-one, it seemed, wanted to know their future. In the evening, a rack of lingerie and fetishwear was brought in for women to try on ahead of Monday night's fashion show. Mostly, though, they chatted -- mostly about what they planned to do with the money if they won, rarely if ever about sex.
Paul watched furtively as Gudrun tried on a black leather bustier and Dianne squeezed herself into a low-cut latex parody of a nurse's outfit, paint-tight on her ass, short enough in front to show a hint of protruding labia. "One daughter who wants a wedding and another who wants to go to college," said Noah, dealing the cards, "and Tia wants a breast reduction. Back pain. What about you?"
"Briny and me got a chance to buy a sweet little shop in Maui," said Zac, the surfer. "Prob'ly buy a house with what's left over. Might even start paying for porn instead of pirating it." He turned to Paul. "Lemme guess. Medical bills, or student loans?"
"No. Invested in crypto, didn't get out in time. We don't win, we're going to be bankrupt -- and not just morally bankrupt."
"Yeah, well, morals are expensive," said Zac, picking up his cards. "Even if you inherit a set, there's always the upkeep."
"Speak for yourself," said Noah. "Some of us don't have any trouble keeping it up."
***
Paul was almost asleep by the time his bed partner, the goth with Bettie Page bangs, arrived. She was wearing a lacy black nightdress that obscured most, though not all, of her tattoos, and matched her hair, lips and nails. "Hi," he said. "I'm Paul."
She shrugged. "Candy Rue. Goodnight."
"Kandiru? Like the fish that, uh..."
She laughed, and smiled for nearly a second. "Yeah, that's right."
"Is that meant to scare men off?"
"It's my stage name -- I do a voodoo burlesque show - and it only scares the ones who know what it means. Or excites the ones who're into CBT, but I can deal with that. How 'bout you?"
"Cock and ball torture? Really not my scene."
"Pity. I don't fuck for money, but I have thought of going into business as a domme. Not even butt plugs? They've got all sizes in the drawers."
"No thanks. Isn't fucking for money what we're all doing here?"
"For 69 million, I'll make an exception. What's funny?"
"Something the woman I slept with last night said. We're all whores, we're just haggling over the price."
"Uh-huh. What do you do for a crust? Teacher?"
"Lawyer."
