The heat outside the small Bed & Breakfast is unbearable, but Stella was insistent to go inside first. The trip to Hawaii was long and exhausting in its own way. With airlines in their current state, you found the whole process draining. Your feet ache as you wait for Stella to "freshen up" inside. You have an idea of what she meant.
You rarely see Stella out of costume—or out of character, for that matter—and traveling with her clearly made her a bit uncomfortable. Soon, the Small Stream Inn's front door opens and you see the beautiful Stella.
She stands just inside, her heavy Victorian dress in stark contrast to the festive theme of the B&B. Her face is powdered white, with thin lines of black makeup to make her mouth resemble a doll's. She's already acting the part, her face a calm, demure mask. Down her cheek, you can already see a thin trail of sweat.
"Welcome to your vacation home, Master," she says, emotionless. "Please, come inside."
You carry your bags in and set them down by the door.
"Let us enjoy the day," Stella says. "I've prepared the private beach for you, Master."
~♥~
You lay In your swim trunks, the breeze by the beach calming your nerves. Beneath the beach umbrella isn't much cooler, but you are protected from the sun's rays. Stella kneels beside you, hands placed gently in her lap. You can see the trickle of sweat has increased—in fact, Stella is sweating all over, her makeup barely containing her physical exertion. She keeps a calm demeanor, despite the deep shade of red her skin is flushing.
"Please, Master," Stella asks. "How do you like your vacation home? I trust it is to your standards."
"It's perfect, Stella," you say. "But aren't you a bit hot in all that? Don't you want to change into something a little less heavy?"
"What do you mean?" Stella asks, tilting her head. "I am a doll. Dolls do not get too hot."
"Okay," you sigh.
"Now, please describe," Stella asks. "What kind of illicit activities do people get up to at private beaches?"