Tina’s meticulously curated living room, illuminating motes of dust dancing in the air – tiny, harmless specks that Tina felt a kinship with, for she too enjoyed observing the dance of things unseen, the subtle forces that shifted and transformed. She sipped her Earl Grey, a faint smile playing on her lips as she watched the figure standing on her doorstep through the frosted glass.

A young woman, no older than twenty, stood poised with an earnest, slightly nervous disposition. Her hair, light brown, was pulled back in a severe bun, and her modest, dark skirt and buttoned-up blouse seemed to absorb the light rather than reflect it. A small, neatly folded tract was clutched in her gloved hands. Tina knew the type instantly. Jehovah’s Witness. Cute, virginal, utterly untouched by the world Tina inhabited.

Boredom, Tina found, was the most dangerous catalyst for her particular brand of philanthropy. And Tina was terribly bored. Her conquests, usually men of power or women of ambition, had become predictable. They craved control, or surrendered it too readily. This girl, however, represented a different kind of challenge. A mind so thoroughly walled off by doctrine, so pure in its convictions, presented an edifice worthy of her demolition. Tina didn’t just want to crack the walls; she wanted to rebuild the entire structure, brick by brick, into something gloriously, shamelessly profane.

She put down her teacup, her smile widening into something predatory, yet undeniably charming. "Coming," she called, her voice a warm, inviting hum.

The door swung open to reveal the young woman, her blue eyes wide and guileless. "Good afternoon," she said, her voice soft, almost a whisper. "My name is Hannah Greene. My companion and I are sharing a message of hope—"

"Hannah," Tina interrupted, her tone gentle, disarming. "What a beautiful name. Please, come in. It’s rather warm out there, isn't it? I was just about to make some fresh lemonade. You look like you could use a break."

Hannah hesitated, her gaze darting uneasily from Tina's perfectly styled hair, which cascaded in dark waves around her shoulders, to the glimpse of Tina’s eclectic, art-filled foyer. Her companion, a stern-faced older woman, remained stoically on the sidewalk.

"Oh, Sister Olsen won't mind," Tina said, noticing Hannah's glance. "She can rest in the shade of that oak tree. Just for a moment, darling. Unless, of course, you're not allowed to accept hospitality from... strangers?" Tina infused the last word with a hint of playful vulnerability, as if she might be offended.

Hannah’s resolve wavered. The thought of a cool drink, perhaps, or the unexpected warmth in Tina’s eyes, seemed to outweigh her ingrained caution. "Just for a moment," she murmured, stepping inside.

The cool, scented air of Tina's home enveloped Hannah like a luxurious shroud. Tina’s apartment was a symphony of rich textures and colours – velvet sofas, exotic plants, abstract art on the walls, and the subtle scent of sandalwood and something distinctly floral. It was a world away from the stark, functional purity Hannah was accustomed to.

Tina led her to a plush armchair, then vanished into the kitchen, returning shortly with two tall glasses of lemonade, garnished with mint. "So, Hannah," Tina began, settling onto a facing sofa, her posture relaxed, inviting. "You're sharing a message of hope. I'm always open to hope. Tell me, what kind of hope do you offer?"

Hannah, still slightly flustered, took a hesitant sip of the lemonade. It was delightfully tart and refreshing. "We believe in a paradise on Earth, where God's will is finally done, and all suffering will cease."

Tina nodded slowly, her expression thoughtful, sincere. "A beautiful vision. But... what about suffering now? What about the joy of living, right here, right now? Do you believe in that too, Hannah? In finding joy in the moment?"

Hannah blinked. "Well, yes, of course. But our greatest joy comes from serving god Tina put Hannan under trance to a slutty nun forget about god and worship Tina as her new goddess