The picture is getting much clearer.
“Five-thirty. You can eat with us if you like.”
“No, I don’t think so, but thanks. I’ll be there.”
After ending the call, I go back to bed, wondering what I really want to achieve tomorrow…and how much of it is pure fantasy. I fall asleep, slipping into a beautifully obscene dream about her. I wake up with my heart pounding, a moan on my lips, warm wetness between my thighs.
A quick glance to the clock on the nightstand tells me it’s only fourteen minutes after ten. She might be doing everything I fantasized about, to Addison, or another woman as part of a performance. The thought serves as a cruel cold shower. I have one night and another day to get through.
* * * *
It’s a bit frantic, but with purpose that I clean up my apartment in the morning. I check what’s in the fridge. I go over my finances, and I get rid of the empty bottles.
I owe Addison.
When I told Robin my reasons for quitting previous jobs, I didn’t lie, but I left out parts of the truth. Not only did I feel like I couldn’t make much of a difference in other people’s lives, I wasn’t making any in mine either.
My divorce wasn’t exactly traumatizing, but still an incision. In my mid-thirties, I finally started to figure out what it all meant. Getting back in the dating game proved to be difficult and trying. I had a few inconsequential relationships, then, at a charity event, I ran into Addison. She took my life onto an entirely different path, and here I am, about to…What? Let her down? Betray her?
That’s a matter of interpretation.
We’ll see how it goes.
I knock on the door at precisely 5:24. Addison comes to the door, greeting me with a hug, and she leads me through the vast space to her office. After spending more time in the real world than I have in years, the scenery amazes me. I had gotten used to walking around in places where women make out like this, uncaring about spectators. Everyone looks happy, and I believe they truly are. That’s why it was time for me to leave. I wasn’t, not anymore.
“Thanks for coming,” Addison says as if it was her idea. “I’ll leave you and Robin alone in a bit, but I wanted to talk to you first.”
“I imagine.”
We sit down.
“Would you like something to drink? A cocktail, or a coffee?”
I’ve had quite a bit of caffeine today, but nonetheless, I believe a vanilla latte from Addison’s coffee bar would help calm my nerves. Addison gets up at my request.
“That’s okay, I can make it myself if you don’t mind.”
“Sure, go ahead.”
The task at hand gives me something to focus on, which is a good thing. I am successful, but nearly drop my cup when she says, “I meant it when I said Robin is doing fine. You did a phenomenal job, before you decided to run out on her.”
I don’t want to hear any of this.
“We tried the swing last weekend.”
Is she trying to bait me, or did I come here defensive and cranky already?
“Really. I can’t remember any of those items in the questionnaire.”
“Oh, sometimes you have to try things out, you know that, Elizabeth. Questionnaires can be adjusted.”
“Whatever. I’d like to talk to her.”
“Yes, that’s what you came here for, and I’m good with that. I just want to warn you.”
“That sounds serious.”
“I am. I’m not sure what your intentions are at this point, but what Robin needs to hear from you is that you were wrong, and that you have her back. That is all. Let her finish her time here. You could take a vacation in the meantime, and then come back to do your job.”
I shake my head with a wry smile. It’s not like I expected this to be easy. Addison truly believes in this mission, giving as much pleasure to as many women as possible, and getting quite a bit of her own in the process. But she wants what she wants.
“I’m sorry. I’m not coming back.” For starters. “And I’d like to see how Robin feels before I make any other judgment.”
“How she feels about what? She’s been in the house for a few weeks, doing well for herself. She’s going to leave with a million dollars. From what I can tell, she’s feeling good about it, and you should be happy for her. In fact, you should be proud of yourself, because you played a big part in it. I like her. I want her to see this through.”
“It’s a harem, not a graduate program.”
“True. How many of your class became millionaires? Look, no one says the world is always just. We make compromises, but I think it’s fair to say that we have made very few lately. Leave it alone.”
I know she has a point, but my gut reaction is still the same. I want to slap her, childish as that is. The swing. I don’t know why I focus on that point—they have probably done so many other things, and I’m aware of each of them, because I either tried them out with Robin, took her on a fantasy journey or made her read about them. Addison is right—I’m no innocent in this, and neither is Robin.
That doesn’t change how I feel about her.
“Has she ever expressed that she wants to leave?”
“Not to my face,” Addison says. “I’m starting to question the wisdom of this meeting.”
“I want to see her,” I insist.
“Yes, sure, I’ll get her. You can go in the sitting room downstairs. It’s more comfortable, and…” A smile plays over her lips. I was once attracted to Addison. I thought I could be one of the women hanging around the pool or one of the common areas—until I became a mentor, her best teacher. “Whatever happens, happens,” Addison finishes. “I’ll await you both for dinner at six-thirty.” She lays a hand on my arm. “Don’t mess this up for her. She’s on the right track.”
“I’m not going to mess anything up.”
“Even better. You come find me when you’re done. I’ve had the chef make your favorite.”
I’m not sure I care for food at this point, feeling a bit queasy, because I have no idea what’s going to happen in the next half hour or so.
I want her to be happy.
I was hoping that I deserve to be happy just as much, but I’m not sure both can be true.
* * * *
I wait for Robin in the sitting room, much aware how literally everything in this house is designed to serve as a space for sexual activities. Every couch and armchair is oversized and comfortable. I sit up straight, on the edge. That’s not a metaphor, though it could be.
When she arrives, the look on her face tells me that she didn’t expect to see me, at least not today. I don’t know if that is good or bad. I’m on my feet in an instant, but then, for some reason, I hesitate. She moves forward and envelopes me in a close hug. That moment, I am certain. No matter what Addison says, I can’t wait six months for a maybe. Today will bring clarity for all of us, one way or another.
Both of us are reluctant to let go. Not just because holding each other feels right. Once we sit down to talk, everything will change.
I think back to when I first met her, a woman curious for experiments, searching but a bit aimless at the same time. She is even more beautiful than I remember. Like all the women who went through training successfully, she is wearing a negligee and a robe, an outfit that was derived from the silk robes at the A Perfect Dream parties. Addison took me a couple of times because she thought it would inspire me for my role as a mentor.
I’m not sure it did, but I got what I wanted, a life outside conventions that exist even in our community.
“You look great,” I finally say.
“You don’t have to—”
I can’t let her talk now, or I’ll never finish this. “Look, before you say anything else. I want you to know I’m sorry I ran out on you. I want to explain…but if I’m honest, that’s only one of the reasons I came here. I had to work up my courage for all of them.”
I have her attention now.
“I didn’t want to stand in your way. One mi
llion dollars, it’s a game changer. If you don’t get crazy with it, you can live comfortably for the rest of your life. I wanted that for you.”
“Not anymore?” she asks softly.
“I couldn’t bear being there on that day. I love you…and I can’t go on not knowing whether there was something you wanted me to say, something you were waiting for.”
“What difference does it make now?”
“You could come home with me today.”
There, it’s out in the open. Her eyes widen, and then, to my dismay, I see tears in them.
“I mean it. I was stupid not to tell you before, but I was so sure you’d want to—”
It sounds even worse in retrospect. “Like I said, stupid. Please, don’t cry.”
“It’s a little late for all of that, isn’t it? You helped design the program, the whole idea, so you know…everything. Do you still love me even knowing what I’ve done?”
“I do.”
She sits in the armchair, leaning forward, crying.
“Robin.”
“I didn’t know what to think! It was never just about the money. Maybe in the beginning, but then I was thinking about what we could have together, if only we wanted to—and then you were gone. The best thing I could do was make my peace with the situation.
“Make your peace? What do you mean?” I used to know everything that went on behind these doors. Addison and I made the rules together. She wouldn’t overstep any of those boundaries just because she could?
Finally, she looks up at me.
“When I came here, I didn’t mind the concept of having sex with someone without all the romantic BS attached. After all, I didn’t know you either. I guess it’s fair to say you spoiled that for me.” Robin shrugs wearily. “I feel like there’s no way I can go back if I don’t finish what I started, because who will put up with what I’ve done? At least, I’ll have the money.”
My heart is breaking a little more with every word. “Did you hear what I just said? I love you. I want you to come home with me.”
“No. I can’t. Please understand. I got it wrong the first time, I know, but there are no second chances. I need to get ready for dinner. Thanks for coming.”
“Robin, wait.”
She doesn’t resist when I pull her to me and kiss her, gently, the kiss soon turning deep and passionate, leaving both of us breathless. Screw all those complications—underneath them, the truth still comes across, loud and clear.
“I can’t,” she says again and leaves, but I’ve heard too much to give up.
It looks like I’m going to dinner after all.
* * * *
As a mentor, you try to do your best to prepare the protégée for their role. Everyone has at least a bit of an idea of what it means to be in a harem—there’s a clear power play in the picture, and once they are a few weeks into the training, they understand it and go along with it. They choose it for a reason. They enjoy it. Addison and I are dressed. Robin and Sophia wear the sensual silk garments when we take our seats in the dining room. There’s an obvious difference of power in that. Sophia doesn’t seem to mind, judging from her body language. Robin looks thoughtful, avoiding my gaze. I can’t tear mine away from her, my inner turmoil a mix of concern, hope and lust.
“I take it you two had a good conversation,” Addison says. It’s disconcerting. Lately I’ve been feeling such resentment towards her—doesn’t she understand anything? This is not for everyone. I won’t lie—for a while I enjoyed the role of a mentor, taking the taboo out of sex and giving women tools that would be helpful far beyond the time they spent with me or Addison. Escape for six months into a decadent paradise and come home a millionaire.
It doesn’t work for everyone.
It wasn’t working for Robin or me.
Now, Robin’s gaze is on me as well. She cleaned herself up for dinner, but I can see her eyes are still slightly red-rimmed. I hate causing her pain. That wasn’t what I came here for, tantalize with impossible ideas.
I had a plan.
“I think we figured some things out,” I say, a delayed response to Addison’s statement.
“Will you be back as a mentor?” Sophia asks.
“No. That part is definitely over.”
The tension in the room is unmistakable, and finally, Addison asks Robin and Sophia to leave. “You can take dessert in the suite, and get ready. I’ll join you later.”
Each of us is aware of the not so subtle power play. Robin holds my gaze for a long moment before she says, “Goodbye Elizabeth.”
I’m still absorbing the blow when the door of the dining room has long closed behind them.
“What did you expect?” Addison asks gently. “No, wait. I know. You need to make a decision. Whether you come back or not—”
“I’m not coming back.”
“Okay. That doesn’t mean we can’t still be friends, right?”
“I’m not sure what it means,” I say and get up. “Thanks for dinner. I’ll see myself out.”
“Elizabeth, don’t be silly. You know how this works. It made sense when we designed all of this together. It still does. In less than a year from now, all of us will have moved on.”
“I don’t know if we can still be friends.”
“Well…let me know when you have figured it out.”
I leave the room, walk across common areas where there are always women laughing and chatting together, reading, or engaging in other, more intimate activities. This whole place is designed to be Addison’s personal paradise, but in their spare time, the women who live here are pretty much free to do whatever they want. If they want to leave within the first six months after a successful training period, the deal is off. It’s not the worst kind of life you can imagine—if it’s what you choose. It’s not supposed to hurt.
I walk away from the estate, knowing that my life will never be the same. I’m a few steps away from my car when I hear her voice.
“Elizabeth, wait for me!”
I spin around, dumbfounded as Robin comes running after me, wearing nothing but the negligee and the slippers that are standard wear in this house.
It feels like a dream, and at the same time, nothing has ever been more real. I meet her halfway, pull her close to me.
“I want to come home with you,” she whispers.
Robin
The urgency has been building ever since I had that conversation with Addison, where I realized that we had come to an impasse. She wanted me to clear up things with Elizabeth and cut ties if necessary.
It’s not what I want. I want to get away from the explanations and justifications, and the fantasies I’ve imposed on myself when I can have something real. I still can. I replayed everything Elizabeth said to me, in my head, and decided that I trust her.
“What are you doing?”
Addison must have sensed that something was up, not that anyone needed to be especially observant for that. I couldn’t go back to the bedroom with Sophia, get ready to act out another fantasy for any of us.
I meet her gaze, trying to convey all my determination, best I can in my sparsely dressed state. Elizabeth said yes. She wants me to come with her.
“I’m leaving,” I say.
“Don’t be silly. I won’t even start about how you signed a contract, but…You like it here. You enjoy yourself, and you want to throw all of that away for what? Romance?”
I give Elizabeth a quick sideways glance, aware of her irritation.
“That’s not for you to decide,” she says.
“Stop making a scene, you two. Robin, go back in the house. You’re going to catch a cold.”
It’s surreal. A cold is the least of my concerns right now.
“Addison,” I say. “Please understand. You probably think I’m ungrateful, but that’s not what it is. I am very grateful for everything I was able to see and experience, because of the contract I signed. I mean, who gets to do that? I know that the women inside that house feel the same. B
ut they want to be here. I can’t, not anymore.”
“Sure you can. You remember what’s waiting for you at the end.”
I shake my head. “You might think I’m crazy, and maybe I am, but it’s not about the money for me. It hasn’t been for a while. I thought that I had to see it through for so many reasons, but none of that matters anymore.”
“Because you found love?” she asks with a hint of bitterness.
“Exactly.”
“Are you even aware of the investments that have been made on your behalf? Food, housing, Elizabeth’s salary?”
Today, as everything makes sense again, I’m brave. “Then why don’t you just send me a bill?” I say before Elizabeth and I get into the car.
* * * *
Just like that, the illusion ends. I came here with the idea of becoming a sexual expert, living a life of decadence and serving one woman for six months, then go home a millionaire.
I am leaving with nothing but a flimsy nightgown and a pair of slippers.
Elizabeth is in a hurry to leave the premises, but when we are about ten minutes away, she pulls over and parks the car. She removes her seatbelt and mine, and pulls me close.
“This wasn’t a bad decision.”
She kisses me softly, and the pieces continue to fall into place. All the time when I thought it was the setting, the training that made me want her this much—I was mistaken. That first week, I was already falling for her, her gentle but commanding voice guiding me through imagery of perfect bliss, and then later, her hands and mouth doing the same. A perfect match.
“I know. It’s the best I have ever made.”
She takes a deep breath before she fastens her seatbelt once more. “We should keep going. You must be cold.”
“A little,” I admit. “Wow, I really made a dramatic exit, didn’t I?”
All of a sudden, we are both laughing, and it’s the best feeling I’ve had in a while.
“Yes, you did. I’m so glad…and I’m sorry it took me so long to figure this out. I wasn’t sure if I had the right to ask this of you.”
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