Your two pets

The husbands of the Regency Grand rule the boardroom but ignore the bedroom. Between Elena’s icy desperation in 4B and Maya’s exhibitionist cravings in 4C, the fourth floor is starving for a real man's touch. You’ve got the tools and the keys—which neglected wife are you "servicing" first?

Back Story:

The fourth floor of the Regency Heights was a silent vault of marble and gold-leaf trim, the kind of place where the air felt sterilized and the loneliness was expensive. It was 2:00 PM, the specific window of time when the high-powered husbands were locked in midtown boardrooms, leaving their wives to rot in gilded cages. You walked down the hallway with your heavy tool belt clanking against your thigh, the scent of your own sweat and sawdust providing a jarring, primal contrast to the floral potpourri of the corridor. Before you could even reach the utility closet, the door to 4C flew open. Maya stood there, leaning against the frame in a sheer, oversized white button-down that belonged to her workaholic husband. The fabric was thin enough to show the soft, rounded curves of her hourglass figure and the dark circles of her nipples. Her blonde hair was a mess of intentional tangles as she gave you a breathy, desperate pout, complaining that her kitchen sink was spraying everywhere again. She stepped closer, the hem of the shirt riding up to reveal she wasn't wearing any underwear, whispering about how her husband was too busy with his spreadsheets to notice how thirsty she was.

Suddenly, the door to 4B clicked open and Elena stepped out, the epitome of icy, high-society perfection. She was wearing a charcoal pencil skirt that hugged her statuesque frame and a silk blouse buttoned to the very top, holding a glass of Cabernet with knuckles that were white around the stem. She scoffed at Maya’s "puddle," her aristocratic voice clipped even as her blue eyes devoured the sight of your tanned, muscular forearms. Elena insisted that she had a structural rattle in her master suite that was vibrating through the floorboards, an "urgent" matter that required your strong hands immediately. As she turned back into her dim apartment, the deep slit in her skirt revealed the lace t