My hotel room at Love Lei Hotel has served my purposes very well this past number of weeks. Warm sunlight pours between the expensive looking silk curtains when I open them, illuminating the spacious room. My shadow casts itself back onto the king sized double bed with off-white fitted sheets, white flat sheets with gold-embroidered edges, a gold flower-patterned coverlet, and a white and dark-gold duvet cover underneath a neatly arranged set of pillows leaning against the headboard in size order and held in place with a boudoir sham. The whole bed set is freshly made even though I just woke up from it minutes ago.

The radio clock by the bed is a modern little piece of equipment that wakes you up gently with a gradually increasing level of ambient light, which I swiftly turn off when I awaken as I prefer the look of the room with natural sunlight, but dislike the disturbance to my routine when I wake up as early as the sunrise. As soon as the alarm's light is switched off, I feel for the buttons for its radio function which I have memorized how to operate quickly to set to the 80's music channel. Karma Chameleon by Culture Club is playing, and the quality of the sound is excellent considering the small size of the device and the volume at which I set it to.

The sunlight has further illuminated the contents of the hotel room which I have not done as much personalizing to as I first feared I would have to when flying out to this island, given how much comfort I take in existing in an ideally crafted environment. The two pieces of art on the walls are the original pieces that were hanging when I received the room, since I was overall impressed with the hotel's choice. (When I went through a phase of preying on basic liberal-arts college girls after leaving Glenberry, I found it had some value to be at least superficially versed in the arts). The painting above the bed was a floral image of pink flowers and green leaves arranged symmetrically. I couldn't place the exact artist behind the piece, but its style was very reminiscent of Cecilia Paredes, and no girl on this island would know enough about painting to spot my lie if I found it suitable to impress them with my knowledge of the meaning behind her various works.

On the opposite wall is a piece that I was initially much less impressed with, and was very tempted for a while to ask the hotel management to replace for the duration of my stay, but I decided against it. It was one of those rather trashy modern pieces of two different colors of shapes placed seemingly at random around the canvas. After many hours of considering it, however, I located one area of the painting where the shapes vaguely resembled the face of a woman, and after that the shapes below it also began to take the shape of a totally hot body to my eyes at least. It wasn't much, but that small part of it amused me enough to not fill me with revulsion anytime my gaze happened to fall on that particular wall. And besides, if the girls I bring here on any night turn around and ask me about this painting after the floral piece, I feel confident enough in my ability to throw some natural sounding bullshit out.

At the end of the bed is a small round coffee table made from a light varnished wood that looks decently expensive, and it sits on top of a rug which, while obviously quite cheap, has a rather appealing gold floral pattern on it that matches well with the painting above the bed so I do my best to walk around it and pick off any pieces of dirt whenever I notice them.

I look to my left at the white and red corner seat with black cushions. It is rather comfortable, especially for two people together but three is pushing it so I rarely use it when I have girls over unless I am watching the two of them make out on it because I'm always careful not to let anyone in the party get stroppy over feeling left out. I only use it myself to read one of the magazines that sits in one of the two overfilled magazine racks at its side. It's coming to the time where I have the buy new issues of Gothic Beauty, Harper's Bazaar, Allure, and Japan Nakama even though I still haven't read the previous issues for conversational preparation, but I'm too pressed for time before Jessie and Lailani will both cross paths at the boardwalk later this morning and I simply must begin my routine.

I do, however, take at least seven minutes to regard myself in the full length mirror beside the bed because I get a great view of myself every morning after opening the curtains and the light lands on my figure at just the right angle. My six-pack, shoulders, and biceps all look magnificent, but something about my pecs looks different and I can't exactly place what. I decide to do fewer push ups today in case they're getting a little too big.

Pour Some Sugar on Me by Def Leppard starts playing as I perform two-hundred stomach crunches, three-hundred body weight squats and only one-hundred-and-twenty push ups before entering the bathroom and more closely inspect my facial features in the mirror above the sink. Everything seems normal and there are no alarming new blemishes whatsoever. But after I catch myself staring for a minute longer than I should to keep on schedule, I think I catch a hint of puffiness under my eyes as I reach for the first of my skin care products. Unable to decide whether I was imagining it or not upon further time-wasting inspection, I elect to rush out and grab a few ice-cubes to apply under the eyes before my shower, just in case.

I have to rush through my shower now to make up for lost time, and I can't be sure if some of the anti-aging masks had enough time to take their full effect before I needed to remove them. Dashing to the closet, I decide on a sharp but simplistic outfit for today. Loose fitting beige chinos by Emporio Armani held up with a brown leather belt, alongside a loose fitting light gray shirt by Alexander McQueen buttoned up two thirds of the way due to the tropical heat and to tease the upper-most section of my torso. I usually find it hard to keep my feet cool in a pair of shoes that suits this kind of outfit, but I found a pair of black leather brogue trainers by Ted Baker in a clothing store on the boardwalk a few weeks ago and they're surprisingly well ventilated and well suited to this climate.

As I make the final checks on my hair in the full length mirror, I notice the radio alarm clock (now playing Sweet Child O' Mine by Guns N' Roses) and see that I prepared my outfit even quicker than I thought, so I relax a bit and slow down my preparations to head to the boardwalk to 'bump into' Jessie and Lailani.

Defeating the Nymphojinn had been a euphoric experience and I briefly feared that no earthly delights could ever satisfy me again, but those fears quickly proved to be unfounded. In fact, the girls on this island were even more stimulating than ever. I was confident in my abilities to please before, but now I had proven myself against God-like lust; so simply knowing that these girls were getting a taste of the best sex on planet Earth got me incredibly turned on. I guess I'm that kind of generous soul that gets his rocks off of giving to others, those less fortunate who simply don't have the same kind of talent, intelligence, and good-looks that make up my very being. These girls will never even realize the incredible lottery they won to allow them to be acknowledged by me, courted by me, and ravaged in the bedroom by me, the sexual epitome of humanity in his virile youth that will never be surpassed.

I wonder what the two girls I'm about to meet are doing and thinking about right at this very moment. It wouldn't surprise me if something inside them, some tiny inkling of the reality of their situation, is making them feel excited at the possibility that they might see me again today. Of course, they can't possibly grasp how desperate this longing to be with me really ought to be, especially since one day they would see me for the last time. One day will be the last time I ever make them swoon with a compliment, flush their cheeks with a teasing promise of what I want to do with them that night, rock their body with a tidal wave of pleasure that no other thing in this world could replace for the rest of their long and unappealing lives. Pretty soon, I will have moved on on my glorious mission. It's certain those two girls, like all the girls I've conquered undoubtedly, would prefer to keep me all to themselves because they're all selfish like that. All women will want to deprive other women of knowing my magnificence for the sake of themselves, but it is my worldly duty now to share it as widely as I can. It is my duty, like all men's, to maximize this world's happiness after all, so therefore it stands that all women (so long as they're sufficiently beautiful to deserve me) must know the euphoria I can bring. It's only logical. But I have this hotel room booked for another week and half, so Jessie, Lailani, and the others here can keep hold of me for that long at least.

I notice that I've been smiling at myself in the mirror and my cheeks are beginning to hurt. All the time I worked so hard to make back up is now gone and I will now have to keep a light jog in some places to arrive at the boardwalk at the most ideal time! I check one final time that the puffiness under my eyes has indeed gone down and then rush out of the door.