THE RESET - A New Year’s Eve Story: Part 1 - The ARRIVAL
Six professionals. One resort. And a set of rules nobody bothered to read.
ARRIVAL
The van smelled like expensive cologne and suppressed rage.
Marcus Chen sat in the front passenger seat, AirPods in, pretending to be on a call. He wasn't. He just didn't want to talk to any of these people for the two-hour drive from the city to wherever the hell corporate had booked this "exclusive resort experience."
Behind him, Becca Goldstein had her laptop open, replying to client emails with the kind of precision that made grown men cry during contract negotiations. She'd worn her power suit for a team-building retreat because fuck comfort. If someone was going to try to one-up her this weekend, they'd have to look her in the eye while she was dressed for war.
Diego Ramírez sprawled in the back row, legs wide, scrolling TikTok with the volume just loud enough to be annoying. Twenty-eight years old and acting like he'd invented sales. Jamal Williams sat across from him, reading an actual newspaper like it was 1987, occasionally glancing at Diego with the expression of a man watching someone shit on his lawn.
Claire O'Brien drove. Of course Claire drove. Nobody else had volunteered, and she was too practical to let any of these idiots get them killed on the interstate. She'd worked with worse. Hell, she'd raised three teenagers. This crew was nothing.
Aisha Patel sat middle row, window seat, earbuds in, staring at her phone. Everyone assumed she was listening to music. She wasn't. She was running projections for Q1, building models in her head while Marcus took credit for strategies she'd designed and Becca pretended she didn't exist.
"How much further?" Diego asked, not looking up from his phone.
"Forty-five minutes," Claire said.
"Jesus Christ."
"You got somewhere better to be?" Jamal folded his paper. "Thought you'd be thrilled. Free vacation, open bar, chance to kiss more ass."
Diego's jaw tightened. "I don't kiss ass. I close deals."
"Same thing when you're twenty-eight."
"I'm sorry, when's the last time you hit quota without riding your old client list?"
"Boys," Becca said, not looking up from her laptop. "Save it for the trust falls."
Marcus pulled out one AirPod. "There better not actually be trust falls."
"There will be trust falls," Claire said. "There will be icebreakers. There will be a consultant named Brad or Trevor who makes us share our feelings. This is corporate America. Prepare accordingly."
"I'd rather eat glass," Marcus muttered.
"No one's stopping you," Becca said.
Aisha smiled at her phone. These people were exhausting.
The resort appeared around a curve in the coastal road like something out of a luxury magazine. Modern architecture, floor-to-ceiling windows, palm trees swaying in the late December breeze. A discreet sign at the entrance: Sundrift Resort & Spa.
"Not bad," Diego said, sitting up straighter.
"For once, corporate didn't cheap out," Marcus said.
They pulled into the circular drive. A valet approached, young guy in khaki shorts and a resort polo, smiling like he actually enjoyed his job.
"Welcome to Sundrift," he said as Claire rolled down the window. "Checking in?"
"Corporate group," Claire said. "Should be under Apex Solutions."
The valet glanced at his tablet, nodded. "Perfect. You're all set. Just head inside to the main desk, they'll get you sorted. I'll handle your bags."
They climbed out, stretching, looking around. The property was stunning. Pool visible through the lobby windows, beach access beyond that, the ocean glittering in the afternoon sun. A few guests wandered the grounds, most in resort casual, some in robes.
"Why are people wearing bathrobes?" Diego asked.
"Spa, probably," Becca said. "Rich people shit."
They walked into the lobby. Cool air, soft music, the kind of tasteful minimalism that screamed money. A woman at the front desk smiled as they approached. Mid-thirties, tan, wearing a crisp white blouse and the kind of calm competence that comes from dealing with difficult guests professionally.
"Welcome to Sundrift! You must be the Apex Solutions group."
"That's us," Claire said.
The woman's smile didn't waver, but something flickered in her eyes. A pause. A beat of hesitation.
"Wonderful. Let me just pull up your reservation." She typed, glanced at the screen, typed again. "Okay, so we have you in our Bay View wing, six rooms, all oceanfront. You'll have access to all resort amenities, the restaurant, the beach, the pool area, and of course tonight's New Year's Eve celebration."
"What kind of amenities?" Marcus asked.
"Full spa services, fitness center, water sports, hiking trails. Everything's included in your package."
"Open bar?" Diego asked.
"For tonight's event, yes."
"Sold."
The woman handed Claire a folder with key cards. "You're in rooms 201 through 206. Just down this hall, elevator to the second floor. If you need anything, dial zero from your room phone. Oh, and just so you're aware, we do have a few house guidelines posted in your rooms and around the property. Please take a moment to review them."
"Guidelines?" Becca asked.
"Just standard resort policies. Quiet hours, pool rules, that sort of thing." Her smile was pleasant, professional, and somehow deeply noncommittal.
"Got it," Claire said, taking the folder.
They grabbed their bags from the valet and headed toward the elevator.
"This place is nice as hell," Diego said.
"Suspiciously nice," Jamal muttered.
"Oh, come on," Marcus said. "Can't you just enjoy something without being paranoid?"
"I've been in sales thirty years. I'm always paranoid."
The elevator doors closed. Aisha caught her reflection in the mirrored walls. Six people. Three days. One goal: survive this team-building nightmare without killing anyone.
She gave it even odds.
SETTLING IN
Room 202 had a king bed, a balcony overlooking the ocean, and a small sitting area with a couch that looked like it cost more than Aisha's car. She dropped her bag, walked to the window, and stared at the view.
It was beautiful. Uncomfortably beautiful. The kind of place that made you wonder what the catch was.
A printed card sat on the desk.
WELCOME TO SUNDRIFT RESORT
Below that, a list of amenities. Pool hours. Restaurant reservations. Spa services.
Aisha glanced at it, saw "complimentary spa access," and tossed it back on the desk. She'd read the rest later. Right now, she needed to mentally prepare for whatever corporate team-building hell awaited them.
Her phone buzzed.
Claire: Meet in the lobby in 15. Apparently there's an "orientation session."
Marcus: Jesus Christ.
Diego: Can we skip it?
Becca: No. We're being paid to be here. Act professional.
Jamal: Professional at a resort. That's rich.
Aisha: See you in 15.
She changed into something casual, grabbed her phone, and headed downstairs.
They reconvened in a conference room off the main lobby. Windows overlooking the ocean, a screen set up at the front, chairs arranged in a semicircle. A man in his early forties stood at the front, wearing khakis and a resort polo, holding a clipboard and radiating the kind of enthusiasm that came from either genuine passion or prescription medication.
"Welcome, welcome! I'm Trevor, your team-building facilitator for the weekend. So excited to have you all here at Sundrift!"
Claire leaned over to Jamal. "You owe me twenty bucks."
"Why?"
"I said his name would be Trevor or Brad."
Jamal pulled out his wallet.
Trevor clapped his hands together. "Alright, so we've got a packed schedule! This afternoon, we're starting with some outdoor trust-building exercises, then you'll have free time to enjoy the resort amenities before tonight's New Year's Eve celebration. Sound good?"
"Thrilling," Marcus muttered.
"Great energy! I love it. Okay, so let's head outside and get started."
They followed Trevor out to a grassy area near the pool. The afternoon sun was warm, the breeze off the ocean pleasant. A few resort guests wandered past in the background, some in swimsuits, some in resort casual, a couple in bathrobes.
"Weird amount of bathrobes," Diego said quietly.
"It's a spa resort," Becca said. "People come here to relax."
"Still weird."
Trevor gathered them in a circle. "Alright, first exercise: trust falls. Classic, I know, but it works. Pair up!"
They paired reluctantly. Marcus with Becca. Diego with Jamal. Claire with Aisha.
"Okay, one person falls backward, the other catches. Simple. Who wants to demonstrate?"
No one volunteered.
"Come on, don't be shy!"
"I'll do it," Becca said, because of course she would. She positioned herself in front of Marcus. "Don't drop me."
"I won't drop you."
"If you drop me, I'm suing."
"You're not going to sue me for a trust fall."
She fell backward. He caught her. She stood up immediately, brushing herself off like she'd been contaminated.
"See? Easy!" Trevor beamed. "Everyone give it a try."
They rotated through the exercise. Aisha fell, Claire caught her. Diego fell, Jamal caught him with a grunt. Marcus fell, Becca caught him with visible effort.
In the background, two resort guests walked past. One of them was completely naked.
Diego froze mid-fall.
Jamal barely caught him. "What the hell, man?"
"Did you just see that?"
"See what?"
"That guy. He was... he wasn't wearing..."
Jamal looked. The man had already walked past, heading toward the pool area.
"He was wearing a towel," Jamal said.
"No, he wasn't. He was completely..."
"You're seeing things. Heat stroke, probably."
Diego blinked. Maybe he was seeing things.
Trevor clapped again. "Great work, everyone! Next up: the human knot. Everyone in a circle, grab hands with two different people, then we untangle without letting go. Fun, right?"
"This is hell," Marcus whispered to Becca.
"This is work," Becca said. "Smile and pretend."
They formed the circle. Grabbed hands. Started the awkward, fumbling process of untangling themselves while Trevor shouted encouragement.
Behind them, near the pool, another guest walked by. This one was a woman. Also completely naked.
Aisha saw her. Blinked. Looked again.
The woman smiled, waved, kept walking.
Aisha's brain stalled.
"You okay?" Claire asked.
"Yeah. Fine. Just... thought I saw something."
"Heatstroke," Jamal said. "Told you."
They finished the exercise. Trevor sent them on a fifteen-minute break before the next activity.
"I need a drink," Marcus said.
"I need five drinks," Diego said.
"I'm going to check out the spa," Becca said. "Anyone want to come?"
"I'll go," Aisha said, because she needed to confirm whether she'd just hallucinated a naked woman or if reality had taken a very strange turn.
THE SAUNA
Trevor put them through three hours of trust falls, human knots, and some bullshit exercise where they had to build a tower out of spaghetti and marshmallows. By the time he released them for free time, everyone was exhausted, irritated, and ready to be anywhere else.
"Great work today, team!" Trevor beamed. "You've really earned some relaxation. I highly recommend the spa facilities - sauna, hot tubs, steam room. Perfect way to unwind before tonight's celebration. See you at dinner!"
He bounded off, clipboard in hand, leaving the six of them standing in the afternoon sun.
"I need a sauna," Jamal said. "My back is killing me."
"Same," Marcus said. "That last exercise was torture."
"The spa sounds good," Claire said. "Aisha? Becca?"
"Fine," Becca said. "Anything to wash off the day."
They headed to the spa. The entrance split into two hallways: Men's Changing Room to the left, Women's to the right. They separated without discussion.
IN THE MEN'S CHANGING ROOM:
Marcus, Jamal, and Diego found lockers, stripped down to their swim trunks. The room was empty. Pristine. A little too quiet.
"This place is nice," Diego said, grabbing a towel.
"Too nice," Jamal muttered.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means when things seem perfect, there's always a catch."
Marcus rolled his eyes. "You're paranoid."
They followed signs to the sauna, pushed through a wooden door into a cedar-lined room with tiered benches. Hot, dry air hit them immediately. Empty. They claimed spots on the middle tier, spread their towels, settled in.
"This is better," Marcus said, leaning back against the wall.
Jamal grunted in agreement.
Diego closed his eyes. "Wake me in twenty minutes."
IN THE WOMEN'S CHANGING ROOM:
Becca, Claire, and Aisha changed into their swimsuits. One-pieces, practical, the kind of suits you wear when you're not trying to impress anyone.
"How long do we have until dinner?" Claire asked.
"Hour and a half," Becca said, checking her phone.
"Plenty of time."
They grabbed towels and headed to the sauna. Different door, same cedar-lined room. The men were already there, slumped on the benches like they'd been defeated by corporate team-building. Which they had.
"Oh good, you're here too," Claire said, claiming a spot on the lower tier.
"Nowhere else to go," Jamal said.
Aisha sat next to Claire. Becca took the spot across from Marcus. For a few minutes, no one spoke. Just six people sweating in silence, trying to recover from three hours of forced trust exercises.
Then the door opened.
A man walked in. Sixty-ish, gray hair, fit for his age.
Completely naked.
Not a towel. Not a swimsuit. Nothing.
He smiled, nodded. "Afternoon."
Then he sat down on the top tier like this was the most normal thing in the world.
Marcus's eyes went wide.
Becca's mouth fell open.
Diego made a sound like he'd been punched.
The man closed his eyes, leaned back, perfectly relaxed.
No one moved.
Then the door opened again.
Two women. Mid-forties. Also completely naked.
"Oh, it's nice in here," one of them said, settling onto the bench.
"Perfect temperature," the other agreed.
Aisha looked at Claire.
Claire looked at Becca.
Becca looked at Marcus.
Marcus looked at Jamal.
Jamal looked at Diego.
Diego looked like he was about to pass out.
Another person entered. Then another. Then three more. All naked. All casual. All acting like this was a completely normal Tuesday afternoon sauna session.
Within two minutes, the sauna had gone from six clothed corporate employees to six clothed corporate employees surrounded by twelve naked strangers.
Becca stood up. "We need to go."
"Agreed," Marcus said, already moving toward the door.
They filed out in a line, not speaking, not making eye contact with anyone, just moving as fast as they could without running.
The second they were back in the hallway, Diego lost it.
"WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?"
"Quiet!" Claire hissed.
"QUIET? Did you SEE..."
"Yes, we all saw!"
"There were SO MANY..."
"We know!"
They speed-walked back to the changing rooms, threw on their clothes, and reconvened in the spa lobby.
All six of them. Breathing hard. Eyes wild.
"The welcome card," Aisha said. "The one in our rooms."
"What about it?" Marcus asked.
"I didn't read the fine print. Did anyone read the fine print?"
Silence.
"We need to go back to our rooms," Becca said. "Now."
They gathered in a corner of the lobby, all six of them, huddled like they were planning a heist.
"What's going on?" Claire asked.
"The spa," Aisha said. "There was a woman. No shirt."
"What do you mean no shirt?"
"I mean topless. Fully topless. Just walking around like it was nothing."
Diego laughed. "You're joking."
"Do I look like I'm joking?"
Jamal frowned. "Maybe she was a masseuse getting ready for a treatment?"
"She was at the front desk," Becca said. "Greeting customers. With her tits out."
Marcus ran a hand through his hair. "Okay, so this place is... European or something. Casual about nudity. That's a thing, right?"
"She said the whole spa is clothing-optional," Aisha said.
Silence.
"Clothing-optional," Diego repeated slowly.
"Her exact words."
Claire's face went pale. "Oh no."
"What?"
"The bathrobes. The people we've been seeing. The signs we've been ignoring." She pulled out her phone, started googling. "Sundrift Resort. Let's see what comes up."
She scrolled. Her face went from pale to gray.
"What?" Marcus demanded.
Claire turned her phone around.
The resort's website. Right there on the homepage, in cheerful sans-serif font:
Welcome to Sundrift: Southern California's Premier Clothing-Optional Resort
Nobody spoke.
"No," Diego said finally.
"Yes," Claire said.
"No. Absolutely not."
"The welcome card," Aisha said suddenly. "In our rooms. There must be something on it."
They sprinted to the elevator.
THE FINE PRINT
Aisha burst into her room, grabbed the card from the desk, and actually read it this time.
WELCOME TO SUNDRIFT RESORT
Amenities include pool, spa, beach access, restaurant, and bar. All facilities are clothing-optional. Nudity is permitted in all common areas. Guests are asked to sit on towels in pool and dining areas for hygiene purposes. Photography is strictly prohibited without explicit consent.
She read it again.
Then she sat on the bed and started laughing.
The kind of laughing that comes from shock. From disbelief. From the realization that corporate had just accidentally sent six competitive sales reps to a nudist resort for team-building.
Her phone buzzed.
Marcus: Conference call. My room. Now.
She walked down the hall. Knocked on room 201. Marcus opened the door, phone pressed to his ear, eyes wild.
The others filed in. Six people crammed into Marcus's room, all holding their welcome cards like evidence at a crime scene.
Marcus put his phone on speaker. The line was ringing.
"Who are you calling?" Claire asked.
"Angela. From HR."
"It's New Year's Eve. She's not going to answer."
The call went to voicemail.
"You've reached Angela Martinez in Human Resources. I'm out of the office until January 2nd. For urgent matters, please contact..."
Marcus ended the call. "We're fucked."
"We're not fucked," Becca said. "We just... adapt."
"Adapt to what? A nudist resort?"
"We stay clothed. We avoid the naked people. We survive one night."
"And then what?" Diego asked. "We go back to the office and pretend this didn't happen?"
"Exactly."
"That's insane."
"You got a better plan?"
Silence.
Jamal sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing his temples. "How did this even happen?"
"Temp worker," Claire said. "Or someone who didn't read the booking confirmation. Or someone who thought 'clothing-optional' meant casual dress code."
"This is a lawsuit waiting to happen," Becca said.
"Against who?" Aisha asked. "Corporate booked it. We agreed to come. Technically, we consented."
"We didn't consent to THIS."
"The fine print says we did."
They stared at the welcome cards.
"So what now?" Diego asked.
"We go to the bar," Marcus said. "We drink. We figure out how to survive tonight without losing our minds."
"Or our jobs," Becca added.
"Or our dignity," Jamal muttered.
They filed out, heading back to the elevator in silence.
Behind them, through Marcus's balcony window, the sun was starting to set over the ocean. The resort grounds were filling up with guests. Some clothed. Some not.
Tonight was going to be a disaster.
END OF PART 1 of 8
