Business or Pleasure?
by Shift-Change
(Disclaimer: All images were generated with the help of AI tools)
The click-clack of Evelyn Reed’s sensible heels on the polished airport floor was a sound of pure, unadulterated purpose. Each step was a metronome beat marking the efficient passage of time, a resource she valued above all others. She wore a navy blue suit, impeccably tailored, all sharp lines and meticulous seams. Her brunette hair was pulled back into a severe, tight bun with hardly a hair out of place, and her face was a canvas of minimalist, professional makeup. She was the Vice President of Development for Reed Hospitality Group, and while her father might be the CEO, every rung of the ladder she’d climbed bore the scuff marks of her own hard work.
She was flying to Kona for a series of high-stakes meetings to finalize the acquisition of a boutique resort. This trip was surgical. In, negotiate, sign, out. The concept of taking personal time in a place like Hawaii was, to her, laughably inefficient. The journey was the productive part; the destination was just a boardroom with a better view.
Her single, black rolling suitcase had been checked with ruthless speed. TSA Pre-Check was a blur of practiced routine. Now, seated at the gate with plenty of time to spare, her fingers tapped an impatient rhythm on the handle of her leather briefcase. Inside, her laptop was primed, loaded with financial models and zoning frameworks. Deadlines waited for no one, and certainly not for the leisurely pace of air travel.
“Ms. Evelyn Reed. Please come to Gate A42 to speak with your gate agent. Again, that’s Ms. Evelyn Reed, please…” The echoing voice from the gate agent’s desk cut through her thoughts.
Evelyn approached the counter, her expression a mask of neutral politeness, though a flicker of uncertain annoyance crossed her mind. A delay? A problem with her ticket?
“Yes?” she said, her tone crisp.
The agent, a friendly woman with a warm smile, beamed at her. “Good news, Ms. Reed. We have an opening in first class. As a thank you for your loyalty, we’d like to offer you a complimentary upgrade to seat 2A. Priority Plus boarding would be included as well, of course.”
A genuine, if small, smile touched Evelyn’s lips. This was a net positive. More space meant a more comfortable workspace. A lie-flat seat meant she could power through her reports without the slightest kink in her neck. “Thank you. That’s very kind.”
As the gate agent printed the new boarding pass, she made the requisite small talk. “So, Hawaii! Headed to the islands for business or pleasure?”
“Definitely business,” Evelyn replied, her words clipped. The distinction was important. Pleasure was a frivolous expenditure of time and money. Business was an investment.
“Well, I hope you have a pleasant flight,” she said, handing her the ticket.
She nodded, her mind already back on Q3 revenue projections. “I plan to make it a productive one.”
Boarding with the very first group, Evelyn settled into the plush leather cocoon of seat 2A. The sheer luxury of the first class space was barely registered, noted only for its ergonomic benefits. She stowed her briefcase, her fingers already itching to retrieve her laptop. As soon as the plane leveled off after its powerful ascent, the seatbelt sign pinged off. With a brisk, efficient motion, she had the laptop open on the expansive tray table in front of her, and was staring at a dense spreadsheet of financial projections, the cabin noise fading into a dull hum as she immersed herself in the world of numbers and clauses.
The first hour of the flight passed in a blur of intense focus. She drafted three memos, revised her presentation slides, and cross-referenced a complex financial model with projected tourism data. A flight attendant offered her champagne. She accepted it, not for the indulgence, but simply because it was part of the first class service she was accustomed to. She took a small, crisp sip and turned her attention to the 50-page project proposal:
PROJECT TITLE: MLG 2025 Expansion – Phase 1 ROI Analysis AUTHOR: E. Reed STATUS: In Progress
I. Executive Summary: The proposed acquisition of three beachfront properties on the Big Island presents a unique strategic advantage. While initial capital outlay is substantial, projected RevPAR (Revenue Per Available Room) indicates a full return on investment within a 36-month window, assuming a conservative 85% occupancy rate post-launch.
II. Key Performance Indicators (KPIs):
Target ADR (Average Daily Rate): $850 (luxury suites), $550 (standard rooms)
Market Penetration Goal: Capture 15% of the regional luxury tourism market within 18 months.
Operational Efficiency: Implement new automated check-in/concierge system to reduce staffing overhead by 8%.
III. Risk Assessment: The primary risk remains… remains the… stuffiness. The whole plan. It feels so gray. So… corporate. Why isn’t there any color? Why isn't it more… fun? The numbers are right, but the feeling is wrong. The vibe is completely off…
She paused her furious typing, feeling slightly off, chastising herself for getting distracted. “Wait. What am I writing? Focus, Evelyn.”
She deleted the last few lines, and tried again.
The primary risk remains the volatility of the seasonal tourism market, which can be mitigated through aggressive marketing campaigns targeting off-season corporate retreats and… and honeymoons. Oh, honeymoons would be so dreamy there. Champagne and rose petals on the bed. Little cabanas by the pool with cute waiters bringing piña coladas…
She paused again, and rubbed her temples. She felt like she had a headache building. “Okay, what is happening? Why do I feel so strange?” she mumbled to herself.
It was somewhere over the vast, empty blue of the Pacific that the first physical shift occurred. A strange warmth bloomed in her chest, a pleasant, languid sensation that felt entirely out of place. The champagne she was drinking, crisp and cold, seemed to fizz not just on her tongue, but through her very veins, dissolving the hard edges of her focus. She blinked, momentarily losing her place in a paragraph of dense legalese. The stiff collar of her white silk blouse suddenly felt restrictive, almost… scratchy. She felt a pressure in her outfit that was as unexpected as it was uncomfortable. She absently reached up and unfastened the top button. The relief was immediate and surprising.
She tried to refocus on the screen, but her eyes kept drifting to the window, to the impossible sapphire of the ocean meeting the pale blue of the sky. A thought, whimsical and utterly alien, floated through her mind: I wonder if the water at the resort is warm enough for a midnight swim.
She shook her head, annoyed. What a ridiculous, unproductive thought. But the project proposal now seemed… dull. The black and white performance metrics swam before her eyes, losing their sharp, satisfying clarity. She minimized the window, intending to pull up a different report, but found her fingers typing the name of her father’s flagship hotel on the Big Island, Mauna Lani, into the search bar. She wasn’t looking up occupancy rates or profit margins, though. She was clicking through the photo gallery of the infinity pool, the spa, the beachfront cocktail bar.
Her suit jacket felt heavy. She shrugged it off, draping it over the arm rest beside her. Unnoticed, the navy blue material seemed to shimmer under the cabin lights, the color softening, lightening to the shade of a breezy, sand-colored linen. The fabric of her entire outfit felt different against her fingers, less structured, more yielding. Her trousers felt equally oppressive. She shifted in her seat, and the structured fabric seemed to melt away, replaced by the soft, flowing material of a vibrant, floral-print sundress that ended daringly high on her thighs. Her legs, once clad in sensible slacks, were now bare, smooth, and tanned.
A strange tingling sensation started in her scalp. The pins holding her severe bun seemed to loosen, to dissolve into nothing. She raised a hand to her head, and was met not with a tight coil of hair, but a soft, tumbling cascade of waves. She pulled a strand forward. It was lighter, streaked with honey-blonde highlights that seemed to capture the sunlight from the window. Confused, she tilted her laptop screen to catch her reflection.
The face looking back was hers, but… amplified. Her makeup was no longer minimal. A subtle, smoky eye made her irises pop, her lashes were long and dark, and her lips, which she thought she’d left bare, were now coated in a shimmering, glossy pink. She looked glamorous. She looked… expensive.
The laptop on her lap suddenly felt clunky and obsolete. Her work—the reports, the contracts—it all seemed so dreadfully boring. So much effort. She closed the device, and as she did, it seemed to fade, to dematerialize. In its place, her hand was holding a sleek, rose-gold smartphone, its screen glowing with the vibrant, addictive interface of an Instagram feed. Her briefcase was gone, too. On the floor where it had been sat a plush leather designer handbag in a chic shade of white.
She blinked, but there was no sense of panic, only a placid, bubbly acceptance. Of course. This was her phone. This was her bag. She giggled, a light, airy sound she hadn't made in years. She started scrolling through her feed, a curated collection of beautiful people in beautiful places. Her own posts were prominent: her posing by a pool in Mykonos, sipping rosé in St. Barts, shopping on Rodeo Drive. Her job title in her bio read: VP of Brand Management, Reed Hospitality Group.
Brand Management. That sounded right. It was, like, a super important job. It involved… well, it involved showing everyone how amazing Daddy’s hotels were. Mostly by, you know, looking amazing in them. She fired off a quick email on her new phone. "Heyyyy team," she typed with her thumb, her long, perfectly manicured nails clicking against the screen. "Just a heads up, gonna be creating some epic content in Hawaii for the next couple weeks! Don't bug me unless it's a mimosa emergency! xoxo, Evie."
Evelyn. The name felt stuffy and old. She was Evie. Everyone called her Evie.
Her low, practical heels felt tight. Then suddenly the low-heeled pumps were gone. When she glanced down, she saw they had transformed. In their place were a pair of delicate, strappy sandals with a towering stiletto heel that made her legs look a mile long. Her toes, she noted with satisfaction, were painted a perfect shade of coral.
She stretched languidly in her seat, feeling utterly relaxed. The important-looking men in suits around her in first class no longer registered as potential business contacts. Now, they were just… cute. She particularly liked the look of the one across the aisle, the one with the strong jaw and the expensive watch. He looked powerful. Important. A CEO, maybe? She wondered if he was staying at one of Daddy’s hotels. Maybe she could get him a discount. Or a free drink. Or her room number. A slow, mischievous smile spread across her glossy lips.
A chime sounded from her phone. A personal notification from the hotel manager. “Hi Evie! Welcome back! The Mauna Lani Grand Penthouse is all ready for your two week stay. We’ve stocked the fridge with champagne and your favorite snacks. The VIP welcome package is already waiting in your suite, and your personal driver will pick you up at arrivals after you land. Can’t wait to have you!”
She smiled. A full two weeks. No meetings. No spreadsheets. Just sun, spas, and shopping. This ‘work trip’ was really just a fun little excuse for a vacation. Her only real work would be posting a few selfies in a bikini, tagging the hotel. That definitely counted as work. She loved to travel, of course. But the idea of actually working on the journey? Ugh, what a waste. It was so much better to relax, to live it up.
For the rest of the flight, Evie was completely absorbed in her new reality. She scrolled through Instagram, liking photos of other influencers in exotic locales. She shopped online, adding a scandalous string bikini and a pair of oversized designer sunglasses to her cart, and having them shipped to her penthouse suite. She idly twirled her manicured nails through the lengthening locks of her increasingly blonde hair. She took a few selfies, pouting and preening at the camera until she got the perfect angle. She ordered a mimosa, then another, giggling with the flight attendant who called her "Miss Reed” with such adorable deference. The journey, which Evelyn had seen as a productive work session, was now just the boring part before the fun began. For Evie, being there was always a million times better than getting there.
The pilot’s voice came over the intercom, announcing their initial descent. Evie pressed her gorgeous face to the window, a genuine thrill bubbling inside her as the lush green of the island rose from the turquoise ocean. Paradise. Her own little slice of it, paid for by Daddy.
She decided she wanted to make a quick Insta post before landing. She held up her recently refilled mimosa in front of her, her coral manicure looking as glamorous as can be, turquoise waters visible out the window. In a quick series of clicks and taps, a caption was typed out and the photo was posted on her account, @officialEvieReed.
As the plane touched down with a gentle bump, she gathered her things: her gorgeous handbag and a chic, lightweight wrap that had appeared on the seat beside her. She pulled a small business card from her purse. It was thick, glossy, and bubblegum pink, with ‘Evie Reed’ embossed in gold script above her Instagram handle. Below that, an email address. No phone number. Keep 'em wanting more, she thought to herself. As the cute passenger from across the aisle passed her, she caught his eye, gave him a dazzling smile, and slipped the card into his hand with a playful wink. She leaned in just enough to give him a whiff of her expensive, tropical perfume. "If you need any recommendations while you're here," she purred, her hand lingering on his, "you know who to call." She gave him another smile before turning and sashaying down the aisle, the sway of her hips holding his attention well after she walked away.
She disembarked from the plane, no longer the serious businesswoman, but a vision of wealth and effortless beauty. The click-clack of her towering heels was a metronome of leisure and luxury. She sauntered out of the jet bridge and paused at the gate, tapping her long, coral nails on the counter to get the attention of the gate agent who was monitoring her plane’s arrival.
“Excuse me? Hi! Sorry to bother you, you look super busy, but also super nice!” she said, her voice a sweet, musical lilt. “I was just wondering where I’m supposed to pick up my luggage? I have, like, a lot. It’s a whole set of the rose gold Rimowas? They should all be tagged Priority.”
The agent smiled, a flicker of amusement in his eyes. She handed him her boarding pass. He typed her name and ticket number into the computer system.
“Reed… let me see… huh. That’s weird. My system says you only checked one bag. A standard black roller.”
“Ew, what? No. I would literally never. That must be some kind of mistake. I haven’t used a sad black suitcase since, like, ever! It’s definitely the rose gold set. There are five of them. Can you search again?”
He gave a tight smile and obliged. The computer system flickered, the screen wavering before refreshing with new information. “Ah, here we go. Your luggage is showing up in the system now. Yes, five items linked to your ticket. Looks like it’s all heading to Carousel 3. Let me just print you off a new set of claim tickets.”
While the printer booted up, he fell back on his customary script. “So, welcome to Hawaii,” he asked, looking up at the radiant woman before him. “Are you here for business or pleasure?”
Evie tossed her perfectly highlighted hair over her shoulder and flashed a smile so bright it could have powered the entire terminal.
“Oh my god, that’s hilarious. Definitely pleasure! Is there any other reason to come to Hawaii?”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Hope you enjoyed the story! Here's my Ko-Fi if you'd like to leave a tip.