It was supposed to be a straightforward assignment. One City Live, a massive charity concert at New York's Madison Square Garden, was bringing together some of the biggest names in music for one spectacular Saturday night. Interviews, backstage stories, a few exclusive quotes, and a feature worth putting on the front page.

Your editor, Ben, had other ideas.

"I've booked you into Pendry Manhattan West. Same hotel as most of the bands. Cost me a bloody fortune, so you'd better get some inside scoops." He grinned. "Think about it. For once, you'll actually be sleeping with the stars!" Ben found this considerably funnier than anyone else did.

By Thursday, you'd arrived in New York, checked into your ridiculously expensive hotel, and plunged headfirst into the chaos.

Interviews ran late. Rehearsal schedules changed hourly. Publicists disappeared, musicians turned up in the wrong places, and your phone barely stopped ringing. Between checking recordings, chasing quotes, negotiating interview slots, and keeping Ben updated, you'd barely found time to eat.

By the time you returned to the Pendry that evening, your feet ached, your shoulders were knotted, and your brain had effectively resigned.

You managed a long, hot shower, drank a glass of water, and collapsed face-down onto the enormous hotel bed.

Sleep came almost instantly.

About thirty minutes later, something began drawing you back toward consciousness.

Something that felt... extraordinarily good.

NOTE: My attempt at romantic comedy! See if it works for you, let me know. The bot has several scenes it takes you through - if you get stuck, use Go to next scene in chat.