by Lauren Rowe
I scan his full response to this question again. But this time reading Josh’s words, my heart races and leaps: “I prefer not to talk about the meanings of my tattoos at length, so please tell whoever gets assigned to me not to ask about them.”
A wave of excitement washes through me. If that’s how Josh felt when he wrote those words, he certainly doesn’t seem to feel that way now—or, at least, not when it comes to me.
With this application, you will be required to submit three recent photographs of yourself to your intake agent. Please include the following: one headshot, one full-body shot revealing your physique, and one shot wearing something you’d typically wear out in a public location. These photographs shall be maintained under the strictest confidentiality.
Just for the heck of it, I click onto Josh’s naked-bad-boy-photo and stare at it for a moment. This man sends my pulse racing and my blood boiling in a way I’ve never felt before. Damn, boy—just like Audra Mae is singing in my ear right now—I’m absolutely addicted to him.
Please sign the enclosed waiver describing the requisite background check, medical physical, and blood test, which you must complete as a condition of membership.
“Done,” he writes.
Sexual orientation? Please choose from the following options: Straight, homosexual, bisexual, pansexual, other?
“Straight,” he writes.
Do any of your sexual fantasies include violence of any nature?
“Yes,” he writes.
Whoa. Holy shitballs. Not what I expected. I move quickly to the next section.
If so, please describe in detail. Please note that your inclination toward or fantasies about sexual violence, if any, will not, standing alone, preclude membership. Indeed, we provide highly particularized services for members with a wide variety of proclivities. In the interest of serving your needs to the fullest extent possible, please describe any and all sexual fantasies involving violence of any nature whatsoever.
“I have a sexual fantasy in which I come to the rescue of a woman who’s been bound and raped.”
Whoa again.
Are you a current practitioner of BDSM and/or does BDSM interest you? If so, describe in explicit detail.
“BDSM interests me insofar as it relates to fulfilling the fantasy described above.”
Payment and Membership Terms. Please choose from the following options: One Year Membership, $250,000 USD; Monthly Membership, $30,000 USD. All payments are non-refundable. No exceptions. Once you’ve made your selection regarding your membership plan, information for wiring the funds into an escrow account will be immediately forthcoming under separate cover. Membership fees shall be transferred automatically out of escrow to The Club upon approval of your membership.
“I’m interested in a one-month membership, administered according to my exact specifications, described below. If additional payment beyond your usual monthly fee is required for you to deliver exactly what I’ve asked for (below), I’m open to further negotiation of your fee. Please advise.”
Oh my effing God. My heart is pounding forcefully in my ears. I can’t read Josh’s words fast enough.
Please provide a detailed explanation about what compelled you to seek membership in The Club.
“It’s pretty simple, actually: I’m joining The Club because I’m a sick fuck. Or so I’ve been recently told by someone I loved and trusted with all my fucking heart. Well, I might be a sick fuck, but at least I’m not a heartless liar. I’m not the one who begged me to open up, pleaded with me to tell her the truth about my deepest desires and told me it was safe and she wouldn’t judge me, and then when I finally broke down and told her everything, called me a ‘sick fuck’ and said there’s something ‘deeply wrong with me’ and then cheated on me with a douchebag who wears a fucking ascot and says ‘bloody hell’ and rides polo ponies for fuck’s sake. Motherfucking bastard asshole. After three years she couldn’t give me the courtesy of breaking up with me? I had to hear she’d run off with that douche from a friend? Ha! And this was all because of shit I merely fantasized about doing—I hadn’t even done any of it yet—and she ran away screaming (and right into that fucktard’s arms)?
“For three years, I tried my damnedest to fix her and love her and protect her as best I could. But it turns out she was too broken to be fixed and loved and protected—or at least too broken to be fixed by a ‘sick fuck’ like me. Well, if I’m gonna lose the only girl I’ve ever loved for simply fantasizing about doing some crazy shit, then I might as well fucking do all of it, huh? Especially now that she’s gone for good, riding off into the sunset on a fucking polo pony. Why should I suffer all the consequences of being a sick fuck without reaping all the rewards, too? So let’s do this shit, motherfuckers. I’m ready, baby—as ready as a sick fuck can possibly be.”
I look up from my screen, overwhelmed. Holy effing shit. My heart is beating so hard, I feel like it’s going to crack me wide open from the inside-out. I take a deep breath, look back down at the screen, and continue reading.
Please provide a detailed statement regarding your sexual preferences. To maximize your experience in The Club, please be as explicit, detailed, and honest as possible. Please do not self-censor, in any fashion.
“If you were a woman telling me to be as explicit, detailed, and honest as possible and not self-censor myself in any fashion, I’d laugh in your face. But since you’re some mysterious ‘intake agent’ at an underground sex club, and since I’ve got literally nothing to lose at this point, I’ll do it. But here’s the deal: I want absolute assurance you’re gonna give me precisely what I ask for, to the letter. If after reading this you determine you can’t give me exactly what I want, every fucking time, then don’t approve my membership. Because, just to be clear, I don’t need this club to get laid—I can do that just fine on my own with some of the world’s most beautiful women. The only reason I’m applying to this club is to fulfill my ‘sick fuck’ fantasies, exactly as described. Because I don’t want this shit to taint my real life.
“Before I describe what I want you to give me, let’s first talk logistics—because I don’t have the time or attention span to do things your usual way. The way this club was described to me by a buddy, it’s my understanding you typically assign each new member a color-coded bracelet so he can hook up with like-minded women with similarly coded bracelets at bars or wherever. Well, that’s not gonna work for me. I’m too busy and what I want is too specific. So what I want is for you to read this application, go through your database, and then curate compatible women for me, no color-coded bracelets or check-ins required.
“I’ve recently learned I’ll be traveling around the country for about a month in the near future, appraising certain investment opportunities for my company. (I anticipate visiting about twelve cities over the course of one month—my exact itinerary to be finalized.) In each city of my month-long ‘tour,’ on each designated date (by four o’ clock in the afternoon), I’ll leave a room key under the name ‘Emma’ at the front desk of a designated five-star hotel. At precisely eight o’clock, I’ll enter the reserved room to find one of two scenarios awaiting me, exactly as described below:
“Scenario One. Two willing women curated by you will be in the room, awaiting my arrival, preferably already naked. The women should expect to have sex with me and/or each other, depending on my mood and the level of my attraction to each woman. At the very least, they’ll definitely perform sexual acts with each other while I watch.
“Scenario Two. When I enter the room, a blindfolded and naked woman, tied to the bed, will already be there. I will not be the one who tied the woman up—she’ll already be in the required state when I arrive—which means someone besides the woman will initially need to accompany her to the room to help her get into position. By the time I arrive, that third party participant absolutely must be gone. Please note I will arrive at the room promptly at eight o’clock sharp, no earlier or later, to allow the woman and whoever’s assisting
her to plan the set-up accordingly.
“After I’ve entered the room, the woman should expect to engage in some form of sexual activity with me while she remains bound and blindfolded. The sex will be pleasurable and nonviolent. But please note we will be enacting a role-play in which the sex is nonconsensual.
“At the end of the blindfolded portion of our activities (which shall last no more than one hour at the outside), I will remove the woman’s blindfold. When I do so, this will signal for purposes of our mutual role-play that I am someone entirely new, specifically someone who has newly entered the room to rescue her from the “attack” she’s just endured (which, I repeat, will be pleasurable and nonviolent). I’ll proceed to untie the woman and further sexual contact will likely occur at that time, at my discretion.
“A few important caveats and requirements: First, condoms will be used at all times, no exceptions. Second, there will be absolutely no violence of any nature, no exceptions. Any suggestion of violence during the rape-bondage role-play scenario will be purely theatrical and intended to enhance the role-play. Please note that words like “no” and “stop,” etc. during the bondage scenario will not be heeded. If the woman feels uncomfortable or scared in any way, she must use the safe word “Sick Fuck.” If she uses that phrase, I will immediately stop whatever I’m doing and take explicit instruction from her, whatever that is, including stopping, slowing down, and/or untying and releasing her.
“Third, all participating women must be extremely fit and natural blondes. This is non-negotiable.
“Fourth, at least three hours in advance of each date, each woman will leave a signed nondisclosure agreement and consent form for me at the hotel front desk (templates of both forms will be forwarded to you under separate cover once my membership is approved). The consent form shall detail the woman’s understanding of and agreement to participate in all activities detailed above, especially the nonconsensual role-play, plus her understanding of the safe word and its function, and her consent to participate in all activities, without limitation. In addition, I’ll also require a copy of each woman’s medical testing, dated no earlier than two days before our meeting, establishing she’s tested negative for pregnancy and all sexually transmitted diseases. Again, if these requirements necessitate payment beyond your usual monthly membership fee, please contact me to negotiate the increased fee. I do realize I’m asking you for services above and beyond your typical matching services, and I’m amenable to paying a premium for your individualized attention.
“Finally, if room service and/or an in-room massage is desired by my date (or dates) before I arrive at eight o’clock sharp, she/they should feel free to charge any desired expenses to the room. My primary concern is her (their) comfort and enjoyment.
“As far as which of the two scenarios is scheduled in each city on my itinerary, surprise me. As long as each scenario is represented equally over the course of the month, I’ll be more than satisfied.
“So there you go. These are my sick-fuck fantasies. I wound up losing the only woman I’ve ever loved over them—and I hadn’t even acted on any of them yet. So fuck it. Let’s do this. If my fantasies are gonna ruin my life, then I should at least get to do them, don’t you think?
“I look forward to hearing from you. Thank you.”
I can’t stop staring at my laptop screen.
I turn off the music. I need silence. I’m overwhelmed.
Holy Not What I Was Expecting, Batman.
This is a lot to take in. I feel like my brain is short-circuiting.
My head hurts.
And so does my heart.
That Emma girl really did a number on Josh, didn’t she? Wow. What a bitch.
I read the entire application again, my heart racing.
Wow. It’s no less overwhelming to me the second time around.
I sit and stare at the wall for ten minutes, a thousand emotions bombarding me.
My eyelids are drooping. God, I’m so damned tired, I can’t think clearly. And I certainly can’t formulate what I wanna say about all this to Josh just yet.
Now I understand why Josh didn’t want me to read his damned application. For him, our tug-of-war over his application wasn’t a game—not the way it was for me, anyway. For him, it was an act of emotional self-preservation.
No wonder he called me a terrorist.
He must have hated me for how hard I pushed.
Shit. I should have let the man have his privacy. I should have left him alone.
I grab my phone off the bed next to me and tap out a text to Josh. “I’ve read it,” I type. “Gonna sleep now—about to keel over. Let’s talk later, after I wake up.”
Josh’s reply is instantaneous. “Is it worse than being chained to a donkey?”
I roll my eyes. “You said I didn’t have to tell you my thoughts right away—you said I only had to text that I’ve read it.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know I said that,” he writes. “And I totally meant it. But just tell me one thing now, just so I can fall asleep: What are all your thoughts about my application?”
I grin. He’s so cute. “Too many thoughts all at once. I’m too sleep deprived to think. Just let me catch a couple hours of sleep and then we’ll talk.” I press send.
Josh’s application has made me feel a thousand different emotions, all at once, but mostly, I feel a horrible pang in my heart for the rejection Josh endured at the hands of someone he loved and trusted.
I sigh. Oh, Josh. I really can’t let him twist in the wind for hours while I sleep. I know his application doesn’t change a goddamned thing between us, but he doesn’t know that. I don’t want to talk about all this in detail just yet, but I certainly don’t want him to feel anxiety, either.
I pick up my phone and call him.
“Hi,” Josh says, picking up my call after one ring.
“Hi.”
There’s a long beat as Josh waits for me to say whatever I’m calling to say. I can hear him holding his breath on his end of the line.
“All I wanna do is sleep,” I say evenly. “That’s all.”
He still doesn’t say anything.
“I don’t wanna talk just yet. I really need to process exactly what I wanna say to you. Okay?”
“Okay,” he says softly.
“But... I was thinking... will you come to my room and sleep with me tonight? I don’t wanna be alone—I want to be with you.”
He lets out a loud puff of air. “Hell yeah. I’ll be right there.”
Fifty-One
Josh
I’m jolted awake by a banging at the door. My eyes spring open.
I’m tangled up with Kat in her bed, in my briefs, and I’ve got a gigantic woody. I was having an awesome dream—a totally awesome dream about Kat. It was so blatantly symbolic, so obvious, I feel like slapping my subconscious for being so lacking in imagination. In my dream, Kat was giving me an incredible blowjob and Emma walked into the room. But rather than jerk out of Kat’s mouth and rush to smooth things over with Emma, I just said, “Oh, hey, Emma. I’m kinda busy right now.” And then I looked down at Kat, at her blue eyes looking up at me, and I smiled.
There’s another loud bang at the door. “Hey, are you guys in there?”
Kat lifts her head, bleary-eyed. She looks at the clock and rubs her eyes. “Oh crap. My alarm didn’t go off.”
I leap out of bed and bound to the door. “Yeah, we’re here,” I call out.
I open the door to find Henn standing there. His eyes immediately train on my gigantic boner. “Well, good morning,” Henn says cheerily, staring at my crotch. His eyes snap up to my face. “Dude,” he says. “We’ve gotta be on-call to save the world today, remember?”
“Sorry,” I mumble. “Our alarm didn’t go off.”
He motions to my dick. “Mmm hmm. Time to get your other head in the game, Faraday.” He peeks past me into the room. “Kat?”
“Yep,” she calls from inside the room. “Come on in, Henny.”
/> I open the door wide and Henn strolls past me. He’s definitely got his swagger on today—which makes sense: I suppose Henn’s playing in some sort of Hacker Super Bowl today.
“Hey, Kitty Kat,” Henn says. “Sorry to intrude on your optometry appointment again, but Jonas texted ten minutes ago, asking me to confirm all the money’s still in place and we’re ready to move at his signal. I told him we’re good to go any time, boss, of course—and then I ran around like a chicken with my head cut off looking for you two losers. Jesus, guys. You’re gonna give me gray hair, and I’m much too young and pretty for gray hair.”
“Sorry,” Kat and I say in unison.
“I know you guys are busy falling in love and all—”
My eyes instantly dart to Kat’s face, my cheeks bursting with color, and she looks like Henn just stuck her finger into an electrical socket.
“—but we’ve gotta keep our eye on the job,” Henn continues. “Jonas and Sarah went into their meeting with the feds a few hours ago and we’ve got to be ready, just in case. Once we’ve delivered the money, then you two can go off and do whatever the hell kind of eye exam you want, all night and day, but right now I need both of you to keep your eyes on the prize and your heads in the game.”
I look down. This is exactly why I’ve stayed friends with Henn for so long: he’s one of the few people in my life that calls me on my shit. He’s right. I’ve been letting myself get hopelessly distracted from what we’re here in Las Vegas to do.
“To be honest, the odds are low we’ll be asked to make the transfers today,” Henn continues, his tone much softer, “so I’m sure we’re okay—Jonas is ninety-nine percent sure his meeting’s gonna go ’til the end of the banking day today—but he wants us to stand by just in case. No room for error.”
“You’re totally right, Henn,” Kat says. “We’ll stop acting like complete idiots.”
“Not you, Kitty Kat. Just him,” Henn says, winking at her. “You can do no wrong, pretty lady.”