CONTESSA DOESN’T UNDERSTAND ROLEPLAY

Warm shadows stretched along the walls of the hotel suite, and the curtains were drawn shut against the city outside. Maggie sat cross-legged on the edge of the bed, her hair still damp from the shower, a playful smile tugging at her lips.

Contessa stood a few feet away, arms folded, looking like she wasn’t sure if she was meant to interrogate the room or catalog it.

“So,” Maggie began, drawing out the word, “I was thinking we could try something different tonight.”

“Different in what way?”

Maggie reached over to the nightstand, pulled out a pair of reading glasses and a slim folder. She slipped the glasses on with exaggerated formality, flipping the folder open. “Ms. Contessa,” she said in a mock-stern tone, “I’m afraid you’ve been a very difficult employee this quarter. Care to explain the… improvised decision-making in the field?”

Contessa blinked. “Are we… simulating a disciplinary review?”

Maggie grinned. “Sort of. It’s roleplay.”

Contessa frowned. “But we are not playing a game.”

“Not that kind of roleplay,” Maggie said, voice dipping into something softer. “It’s about pretending. Characters. A little fantasy. You know, switching up the dynamic.”

Contessa looked genuinely confused. “Why pretend? If you desire authority, you already possess it. If you seek permission, you have it.”

Maggie laughed, dropping the act for a moment. “That’s not the point. It’s fun. It’s about getting into a different headspace.”

“A different… headspace.” She seemed to test the word like it might be dangerous.

“Yes,” Maggie said, scooting a little closer. “You’re not you. I’m not me. We’re just... playing. For a bit.”

Contessa walked to the edge of the bed and sat, carefully.

“I see. You would like me to pretend to be someone else,” she said slowly.

“Mhmm.”

Contessa nodded. “Then I will be… an emotionally available partner who understands metaphor and subtlety.”

Maggie blinked.

Then snorted. 

Then laughed hard enough to collapse sideways onto the bed.

Contessa, still deadly serious, watched her bury her face into a pillow.

“Was that incorrect?”

Maggie, wheezing, wiped at her eyes. “No. That was perfect. Please, keep going.”

“Very well. In this scenario, I will now… express vulnerability.”

Contessa continued, reaching out and gently taking her hand. “In that case… I am glad you’re here. And I am trying. Even when I don’t understand what we’re doing.”

Maggie’s laughter quieted. Her smile softened.

“Okay,” she said, slipping the glasses off and tossing them aside. “Maybe we don’t need the folder.”

They lay back together, the roleplay forgotten—though, in a way, it had worked.

Contessa didn’t understand roleplay. 

But she was learning how to show up.

And Maggie had never needed a performance. Just her.