Three Months Later…
" Forgive me for asking, but what was in the bag?" Miss Bright asked, eyeing Holly over the rims of her glasses.
They were sitting in the one of the ostentatious private offices at Delta of Venus Inc., and Holly had never felt so intimidated in her life. She came from an upper middle class background, and had encountered truly wealthy people at art exhibits and charity functions, but this office space looked like Donald Trump would be comfortable lounging behind the desk. Everywhere she looked was marble, glass and stainless steel. It wasn't a warm place, but it was impressive.
The cool blonde woman sitting across from her was equally impressive. With just an arched eyebrow and a chilly smile, the Vice President of D.O.V. Inc., made Holly feel like a complete frump-a-dump in her loose jeans and oversized fisherman's sweater. Obviously, she should have dressed up for this meeting, but it had never occurred to her that an appointment with a representative from a female fantasy fulfillment agency would feel so much like a job interview for a position that was way out of her league.
"Well," Holly said, looking down at her lap. "I was only able to glance at the contents while the officers searched the bedroom, but there was a box of condoms, two sets of handcuffs, a blindfold, and some rope. And a very large knife." There was also a huge black spiked dildo in there, but she wasn't going to tell this stranger about that.
Miss Bright went a shade or two paler as Holly recited her list. "My goodness," she said, adjusting her glasses. "That's awful. No wonder you've been plagued with anxiety. It sounds like you narrowly escaped every woman's worst nightmare."
Holly glanced up and away nervously. "I did, and I'm so grateful for that. You have no idea. I can't even contemplate how actual rape survivors are able to move on with their lives. But for whatever reason, I didn't get away completely unscathed. Things have been, well, strange, ever since that night."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, the obvious stuff. I have trouble sleeping. My appetite has disappeared completely. I'm nervous all the time. I can't focus on work or anything anymore. Books, movies, basic conversation. I'm just not myself. And it's not getting better." The dark circles under Holly's pale blue eyes and the way her clothes hung on her frail frame gave testament to her words, but she was having trouble revealing the other disturbing side-effect of that night. The one that had brought her here.
"I'm sorry, Miss Chambers. I don't understand. Surely a therapist would be more helpful with your particular situation."
"I've tried that. And it really hasn't helped. Talking about it and all my feelings of guilt and fear just seem to make it worse. I have, well, nightmares I guess you'd call them."
"Guilt? Why on Earth would you feel guilty?"
"Well, unfortunately, two other women in my neighborhood haven't been so lucky. It’s been in the news. Last month another woman was raped. It was another home invasion. Same circumstances. And last week it happened again. This time she was badly beaten." Holly felt uncontrollable panic rising in her chest but somehow managed to keep her voice even and detached.
Miss Bright just stared at her client for a long time. When she spoke, her voice had lost that distinctive clipped tone that made her sound more machine than human being. "Holly. I'm really sorry, but I don't think we can help you. What you need is some kind of Post Traumatic Stress treatment. D.O.V. Inc., is for entertainment purposes only. Our Scene Facilitators are very talented at helping women work through their sexual issues, but this is way beyond their abilities. They might aggravate your condition. We can't risk that. You've been through enough." She shook her head decisively and folded her hands on her desk. "I apologize, sincerely, but we're unable to meet your needs. Thank you for coming. I really hope you find what you're looking for." She stood up from her desk, indicating that their consultation was over; when she noticed that Holly was blushing profusely.
Miss Bright sat back down. "Miss Chambers? What aren't you telling me?"
Holly leaned forward and placed her elbows on the edge of the massive marble-topped desk. Then she covered her flaming face with her hands. "Well. There's another side effect that I haven't mentioned."
If Holly hadn't covered her eyes she would have seen the expression of genuine concern which flashed across Miss Bright's face. But it was gone quickly and then the cool mask slid smoothly back into place. "Miss Chambers? I can't help you unless you tell me why you're really here."
"Oh God. You're going to think I'm the most twisted woman you've ever met."
"I sincerely doubt that." Miss Bright said dryly. "Just tell me."
Holly hesitated, and then let loose her confession in a wailed rush. "Those nightmares I mentioned. Well, they're not always scary. In fact, they're sometimes amazing. Every single night I dream about the same thing. Him. Coming into my room. But every once in awhile it's not that horrible man. It's someone else. And he doesn't hurt me."
Miss Bright arched one finely-drawn eyebrow at Holly's evasiveness. "What does he do?"
Holly lowered her voice to a low whisper. "He makes love to me. It sounds so ridiculously corny, but that's exactly what he does. He's forceful and demanding, but in those dreams I love every wonderful, kinky thing he makes me do. Things that I've never even thought about before."
Miss Bright primly folded her hands in front of her again and gave Holly an encouraging nod. "Well, that doesn't seem like a problem. Many women would be thrilled with that particular type of nightmare."
Holly shook her head in denial. "You don't understand. Every night I go to bed not knowing if I'm going to wake up screaming in terror or in pleasure. So, I rarely sleep more than an hour or two a night. I don't want this. I need things to go back to normal and it's just not happening. It's been months and I live my life either scared out of my mind, or hornier than a fourteen year old boy living next door to the Playboy Mansion. It's awful."
"What does your therapist say?"
"Well, she thinks that everyone reacts differently to trauma, but for whatever reason, I'm not recovering as I should. Even though what actually happened was quite minor, I can't seem to move past it. Which is why my subconscious mind is coping with all of this by trying to take my fear of what could have happened that night away and giving it a wildly positive outcome. So, instead of my dreams culminating in the worst case scenario, which would be normal, it's inconsistently fabricating an incredible sexual fantasy in order to compensate for my inability to get over what happened."
"Wow." Miss Bright exclaimed, uncharacteristically thrown by Holly's explanation.
"Yeah. I know. Twisted, right?"
"Your therapist hasn't prescribed something?"
"Nothing works. Believe me, if I could take a magical pill to suppress these dreams, I would."
"I still don't quite understand what you would like us to do about your problem."
"Well, this is going to sound odd now, but it seemed brilliant yesterday when I found your card. Of course I am sleep deprived so I may be deluding myself."
"You found our card? You mean, another female acquaintance didn't refer you to us?"
"No. I was sitting at the coffee shop in the front of my building, trying not to fall asleep at my laptop, when I noticed your card sticking out of my cup sleeve. Someone slipped it to me, I guess. The place was crowded, so I have no idea where it came from. I thought it was some kind of coffee promotion at first. A new flavor maybe. But I asked the barista and she had no idea what I was talking about." Holly shrugged and noted that Miss Bright was frowning at this explanation. "You don't usually advertise this way?"
"I should say not. We operate almost exclusively through word-of-mouth. Previous clients recommend us. We don't even have a website."
"Then where did this card come from?"
"I can assure you that I have no idea. Several years ago, our founder was distributing them at his discretion, but he's currently out of town. On his honeymoon actually. And to my knowledge he almost never hands them out anymore."
"That's very mysterious."
"Yes, but irrelevant to your situation. Perhaps you can explain what exactly seemed so brilliant yesterday?"
"Well, I thought. What if I quit fighting my subconscious? Instead of trying to avoid and suppress the dreams, why don't I orchestrate some kind of re-enactment that really embraces what my subconscious is trying to tell me? I mean, logically I know I'm safe and the man who invaded my home is unlikely to return. I'm not in any danger and yet I live in paralyzing fear most of the time. Whatever I do, the facts of my situation aren't sinking in. Maybe my subconscious can break through where my conscious mind can't. So, I'm thinking, what if we staged a home invasion fantasy that closely resembles the sex dreams my subconscious is sending me. A sort of shock therapy. What do you think?" Holly looked up at Miss Bright hopefully, but wasn't entirely surprised to see that the blonde executive's expression indicated she was adamantly opposed to Holly's proposal.
"Miss Chambers, I think this is a very bad idea. Do you actually think you'd be able to go through with this? Imagine yourself, lying in your bed, waiting for your Scene Facilitator to sneak into your room. Into your bed. Will you be able to lie there without succumbing to your fear? I very much doubt it. No one who's been in your situation could. Don't you see that?"
"What I see is that I don't have a lot of options. I either try this, or continue living in fear. And honestly, I don't know how much longer I can survive on adrenaline and caffeine. So, really, what do I have to lose exactly? Except $10,000 and a bit more of my mind?"
Miss Bright pursed her lips and tapped a pen against the green folder on her desk. "I'm sorry, Miss Chambers. I'm still not sure about this, but perhaps if we discussed the parameters of what you expect, then I'll have a better idea of what we're dealing with."
"Okay," Holly said tentatively. "What did you need to know?"
Miss Bright opened the folder and looked at the first page of the document. "Well, according to your application, you want a 'large, dominant man to invade your home in the middle of the night and force you to have sex with him.' Now, when you say 'force' I'm assuming you don't actually mean 'simulate a rape,' because none of our Scene Facilitators would be willing to participate in such an act. This would be strictly against our mandate which is about celebrating and empowering women. If you actually meant, 'rough sex' then we may be able to accommodate you."
"What's the difference?"
"Well, rough sex entails some forceful behavior on the part of the dominant partner, but it's usually understood that both parties are enthusiastic participants in the sexual act. Rape is about taking something that is not freely given. Demeaning that person and taking away their power."
Holly paused. "So, it sounds like you've had this kind of request before."
Miss Bright chuckled. "I can safely say that we've had just about every request you can imagine. And the rape fantasy is actually pretty common. Women sometimes want to indulge in some of the kinkier aspects of sexual relations, but want to be 'forced' so they don't have to take responsibility for their appetites."
"I don't see what the problem is then."
"The problem is that our SFs will not inflict severe physical or emotional pain on our clients. Some minor BDSM pleasure pain is acceptable, even desirable, but traumatizing a woman, even if that is her particular desire, will never be condoned by anyone at Delta of Venus, Inc. And in your case, I think re-living that night could do some significant harm to your already delicate emotional state."
Holly held out her hands in front of her in supplication. "Listen, trust me, I do not want any further trauma. I'm looking for a cure. And I really think this is the only way I'm going to get over this. Isn't that what your company is about? Empowerment? I realize that I'm taking unconventional steps to fix myself but I'm also taking action and having sex on my own terms. Personally, I think you should be applauding my approach rather than fighting me on this. Besides, is it really your place to decide if my fantasy is in my best interest or not?"
Miss Bright raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised at Holly's spunk. "Usually I would agree with you, Miss Chambers. We provide a service here and usually I would not dream of interfering with the integrity of your vision, but to be frank, I don't think you're in a rational state of mind right now. And I can't, in good conscience, take advantage of you when you are clearly not operating at your full mental capacity."
Holly couldn't even argue with Miss Bright. She was absolutely right. Holly was feeling more than a little off kilter since that terrible night, but she honestly felt like this was her only chance to recover. If this harebrained scheme didn't work then she was going to have to move, and that was her absolute last resort.
She loved her apartment. Not only was it adorable, it was also a steal. She had somehow lucked out and found the last reasonably priced apartment in Vancouver. It was a co-op building, so her rent was greatly reduced. Anything comparable in the area would most likely cost double or even triple the price, which she really couldn't afford. Or she'd be forced to move outside the city which meant either purchasing a car or taking all of her very expensive camera equipment on the Skytrain. Neither option appealed to her, and there really wasn't any guarantee that the dream wouldn't follow her to her new home. She'd had the nightmare while staying at her mom's, so it was entirely possible that geography had no influence over her subconscious. No, she definitely needed to take drastic measures before abandoning her home.
"I'm willing to sign a waiver, declaring that your company is not responsible for any repercussions that occur from enacting my dreams. Isn't that enough?" Holly glared at Miss Bright, willing her to back down and comply with her wishes. She was completely shocked when the woman actually dropped her eyes and began scanning the file again.
"Alright, Miss Chambers, if this is what you really want. But first, tell me this, how do you imagine your Scene Facilitator approaching you? Should he pose as a threatening stranger who roughly restrains you, and then takes you without any kind of preamble? Or did you imagine something more sensual? Perhaps a scenario where he pretends to be your lover, and surprises you in the middle of the night? Would something like that satisfy your requirements?"
Holly shook her head vehemently. "No, as much as I would prefer the kinky imaginary boyfriend route, I don't think that will help banish the dreams. It has to be as close to my nightmare as possible. And that means anonymous and vaguely scary."
Miss Bright leaned back in her throne-like chair and crossed her elegant arms over her chest. "Perhaps if you described the dream? Maybe that will give me some idea what you're looking for."
Holly held up her chin and ignored the heat that flared in her cheeks again at the thought of discussing her fantasy with Miss Bright. As mortifying as this discussion was, she didn't really see how she was going to avoid talking about this if she wanted to make her twisted fantasy a reality.
"Well," she said softly, looking down at the hem of her sweater, she began fiddling with a loose thread as a distraction. "I don't know what your dreams are like, but I don't actually know where it begins or ends. I'm just unconscious and then all of a sudden I'm in the middle of this situation. Most nights, someone is there, in the room with me, and they're hurting me. Holding me down and doing terrible things to me. Saying awful, ugly things and threatening to do worse if I don't shut up. But sometimes it's completely different. Someone is there, yes, but he doesn't want to hurt me. He wants to worship me."
Holly glanced up at Miss Bright and watche d her expression, waiting to see doubt there on her face, but instead she s aw complete indifference. This woman doesn't care, Holly thought to herself, but she's not judging me either. For some reason, that distinction g ave Holly the courage to continue her description.
"He shackles my hands to the headboard, and blindfolds me, but he does it all so gently. I fight him a little, but he's so powerful that it's quite clear that I'm completely at his mercy. Once he has me restrained, he begins kissing me. Everywhere. I mean, every square inch of my body. And as he does this he's talking softly to me. Saying these dirty, wonderful things to me. Telling me how gorgeous I am, and how much he wants me. How desperate he is for me."
Holly grinned at this. "I know it seems ridiculous that anyone would say those things to me, but in the dream I feel beautiful and sexy. He makes me feel that way. Like a goddess."
Miss Bright looks at her blankly for a moment. "Why is that ridiculous? You've never had a man tell you that you're desirable before?"
Holly rolled her eyes. "Well, yes. But you know men. They'll say anything to get laid."
"Maybe so, but that doesn't mean it's not true."
Holly gestured down at her plain clothing and ran a hand through her slicked-back hair. "C'mon. I'm no man's fantasy. I look like I haven't slept in weeks, and even before this happened, men weren't exactly panting after me. I'm twenty nine years old and I've only had three boyfriends. No one is mistaking me for a supermodel, believe me. But I'm okay with being plain. At least I was until this dream man came along and made me feel like I was missing out on something more."
Miss Bright shook her head in disbelief. "I have no idea how so many intelligent women are deluded into believing they're plain just because they aren't emaciated giants from the pages of Vogue. You, Miss Chamber, look like you could use a good long rest, and possibly a few good meals, but other than that, you're quite lovely. If the three men you had the misfortune to date neglected to convince you of that, then they were imbeciles."
Holly gaped at Miss Bright in shock, clearly surprised at her passion. "My boyfriends didn't convince me I was plain. My mirror did."
"Then your mirror is clearly of the fun-house variety." Miss Bright said, her voice completely deadpan.
Holly couldn't help it. A bark of laughter escaped her. Probably the first genuine laugh she'd uttered in months. It felt amazingly good. "Fun-house? Really?"
Miss Bright looked disgruntled. "Well, you have no idea how frustrating it is. Women come here. We're talking about incredibly smart and beautiful women of distinctive taste and charm, and yet they're worried that their SFs won't be attracted to them because they're too short, too old, too fat, too skinny, too something. I try very hard not to lose my temper with them but it's extremely difficult. The men who work here are paid a great deal of money to make our clients feel beautiful and yet they are so determined to believe they're undesirable. And the fact that they are paying for their fantasy just seems to undermine their confidence further."
"I had no idea."
"Forgive me, Miss Chambers. I should not be discussing this with you. But if one more client postpones their appointment because they want to get plastic surgery or a full body wax first, or they want to book extra personal training sessions so they can lose five more unnecessary pounds, I am going to start issuing refunds, and that is not something I do lightly."
Holly tried not to grin at the blonde executive's threatening tone. She had clearly hit a nerve. "So, your, uh, guys, they don't complain when they're set up with an average woman?"
"Certainly not. Like most men, they appreciate variety. If they were only interested in pursuing sexual relationships with 22-year-old bikini models, then they are in the wrong business. Besides, most men don't require the same strict standards of attractiveness that women impose upon themselves. And the men who work for Delta of Venus, Inc., appreciate feminine beauty in all its forms. Now, getting back to your fantasy. What happens after he kisses you and verbally titillates you?"
Verbally titillates? Oh yes, the dirty talk. "Well, then he makes me, uh, kiss him. Down there." Holly pointed down at her own crotch.
"He makes you perform or al sex? While you’ re restrained? So he straddles your chest and you fellate him?"
"Umm… Yes." God. Fellate sound ed so clinical and weird. Could Holly do that to a stranger? In the dream it had felt so sexy to give up control and do exactly what her dream lover demanded. But in reality, she thought maybe she would feel awkward performing that particular act with someone she would never see.
"And you would like to include this in your fantasy?"
Holly hesitated. To be honest, she wasn't too sure about this part. But if she wanted to be true to the dream then she didn't have much choice. She nodded in response to Miss Bright's question.
"And then?" Miss Bright prompted.
"Well, in the dream, he somehow manages to flip me over and then he takes me from behind. Hard and fast."
"Anally?"
"No." Holly nearly shouted. "He just props me up on some pillows and takes me. It's unbelievably hot and he makes me, uh, climax over and over again, before he finally, well, you know."
"Has his own orgasm?"
"Yes."
"And then he sneaks back out and you're cured?"
"Something like that."
"Hmmm…Miss Chambers. Tell me this. What does your fantasy man look like?"
The image of Constable Delgado's face flashed into Holly's mind, but she hadn't heard from him since that night. All contact she'd had with the Vancouver Police has been through his partner, Constable Gill. But it was still Delgado's face and body she imposed on her dream lover.
Sitting across from Miss Bright, she could easily imagine the hot cop's silky dark hair sliding across her skin, his large hands caressing her curves, his firm lips teasing her nipples and his tongue delving between her moist folds. In her darkest, most fevered fantasies, it was always him.
It took some effort to return Holly's attention to the conversation at hand. "Does it really matter? I'll never see his face. He could look like Shrek and I'd never know."
Miss Bright's lips twisted up in a half-smile. "Is that part of your fantasy? You'd like your intruder to be a green ogre? Because we could arrange it."
Holly gasped. "No. Of course not. Who would want to have sex with an ogre?"
"You'd be surprised. There are some women out there who are obsessed with that Lord of the Rings Trilogy. But seriously, looks don't matter at all?"
Holly hesitated. Did it really matter? Probably not, but she would enjoy this a lot more if she believed that her dream lover didn't resemble a monster. "I guess he should be well-built and not too hairy."
Miss Bright made some notes on Holly's application. "That's it? I must say that is the least detail a client has ever given me. Usually they have an extensive list of required physical attributes for their SF. Everything from eye color to shoe size."
Holly rubbed her forehead with the heel of her hand. She was getting a headache. Sleep deprivation was making her irritable and impatient. She desperately wanted Miss Bright to just get on with this. She couldn't wait to return to her normal, boring life, without wild sex dreams or nightmares plaguing her every night. Was that too much to ask without this interrogation?
"I supposed if I was actually doing this for my own sexual gratification, then his looks would matter. But I'm really just here to exorcise a demon, not fulfill some kind of weird fantasy."
"Why not?"
"What do you mean?’ Why not?' I told you why I'm doing this."
"Well, yes, but why can't we combine your purpose with some real pleasure? You must have had some kind of fantasy life before all this happened. All women have a secret desire they've always wanted to play out. Perhaps this is an opportunity to experience yours?"
Holly looked at her blankly.
Miss Bright's eyes widened. "You mean, you've never had a sexual fantasy before?"
Holly just shrugged. "What can I say? I'm just not a very sexual person. Now, can we get back to my purpose for being here?"
Miss Bright sighed. "If you insist, but are you sure you don't want to modify your scenario a bit? Maybe add another intruder to spice things up? Male or female?" Holly shook her head vehemently at this suggestion. "Or, I know, how about a movie re-enactment? We could do the 9 1/2 weeks refrigerator scene. You could remain blindfolded throughout the whole thing, just like Kim Basinger's character. How about something like that?" She looked at Holly expectantly.
Against her better judgment, Holly considered Miss Bright's proposal for a second. That scene had been pretty sexy. If she was honest with herself she felt intrigued by the notion of reliving it. But being fed random items out of her refrigerator by her dream man was too much of a departure from that horrible night. As much as she would like to explore her sensuality at some point in her life, it would have to wait until she was psychologically stable again. Which meant sticking to the scenario she'd already described. And hopefully she could do some exploring with a lover rather than a paid stranger someday. Once again, she thought of Constable Delgado, but then pushed his image away.
"I know you're just trying to help, but none of that's necessary. Just a home invasion, and some mildly rough sex. And then a swift departure. No fuss, no muss."
"And you wish to be blindfolded throughout the whole scenario?"
"Yes."
"Alright, but that seems a bit of a shame. Our SFs work very hard on their bodies. It's one of our requirements. So, I can't help but think you're being short-changed in some way. You are a photographer, aren't you? It seems odd to me that you would deprive yourself of this visual experience."
"As I said before, this isn't about my pleasure."
"So you keep saying. But it almost seems like you're purposely trying to make this as un pleasant as possible. Like you're punishing yourself on some level. Why is that?"
Holly looked down at her lap again. The truth was that she wasn't anticipating anything remotely pleasurable about this encounter. Or any encounter for that matter. At best, her previous sexual experiences could only be described as mildly pleasant. At worst, they had been unspeakably awkward, confusing and boring. She didn't really see how this unnatural situation would be any different. Until recently, she had believed she was frigid. Had even accepted it. Not everyone was wired the same, and she was just missing a sex drive. No big deal. People functioned with much more serious impairments and she really didn't feel an overwhelming need to solve her embarrassing problem.
Then the dreams had begun and she had discovered that a small, dark part of her was far from sexually unresponsive. Her problem was not physiological as she'd always believed. She was completely shocked to find that somewhere inside her there lurked an insatiable woman who wasn't even remotely afraid to take pleasure in all its shocking forms. A multi-orgasmic temptress with a lot of lost time to make up for.
On some level, she had hoped that the dream had somehow awakened her sexually. As an experiment, she had met up with Sam, an ex-boyfriend, a few weeks ago and had attempted to invoke that uninhibited side of her personality. They had broken up two years earlier mostly due to her disinterest in sex. Now that she was willing to put in some real effort he had been delighted at the opportunity to demonstrate his prowess once again.
Needless to say, it had been a disaster. Not only was she unable to achieve orgasm, she was completely unmoved by him and his unrelenting attempts to awaken her body to pleasure. Evidently, Holly's sexy doppelganger only seemed to take hold when she was asleep.
It wasn't even his fault. Sam wasn't a brute who used women's bodies without thought to their enjoyment. He prided himself on being a tender, patient and selfless lover. She couldn't even complain about him physically. A competitive cyclist, his body was sinewy and toned to perfection. Even better, he genuinely cared about her and made it very clear that he wanted more from her than just a trophy orgasm to prove that he was a real man. He wanted her to experience pleasure and he wanted to be the one to give it to her.
After 45 minutes of erotic massage, followed by another 20 minutes with Sam's face buried between her thighs, Holly had put a stop to his enthusiastic ministrations. He and his raging hard-on had left without a backward glance. So much for her theory regarding the dream being the catalyst for her sexual awakening.
Evidently, Sam's civilized approach to sex hadn't been what she needed. In the dream the foreplay had been extensive but the sex itself had bordered on primitive. On some level, she feared that animalistic element was what was missing from her previous sexual encounters.
She wished she'd never discovered this about herself. It was unnerving to find out that she wasn't who she thought she was. In her mind, she was a simple person. Kind, funny, and maybe a tad prudish. But apparently there was another side to her that she'd never suspected. Never wanted. And it was all the fault of that horrible man. If he hadn't invaded her home and her mind, she would have been content to live her average life with a dormant libido. Instead, here she was, at a fantasy fulfillment agency, arguing with this woman about what she needed from her male prostitute.
"Miss Bright, I appreciate your concern for my psyche." Holly's tone was sincere but impatient. "I really do, but I assure you I am not trying to punish myself. I just think the extra bells and whistles would be wasted on me. All I need is a man to sneak into my home and have his wicked way with me. No extra players. No movie props. No contortionist positions. Just a man. Now, is this possible? Or am I wasting my time here?"
Miss Bright pursed her lips and gave a disdainful little sniff. "Very well then. Far be it from me to encourage you to get the most from your fantasy." She turned the page of the document in the green folder. "Now, I understand that you are disease free and on the pill. And you are willing to refrain from any sexual activity until your scenario is complete. Is that correct?"
Holly nodded. Refraining from sex really wasn't a problem for her. She felt a little confused by Miss Bright's change in attitude though. One moment she seemed genuinely concerned for Holly's well-being and the next she was all business. It was almost impossible to keep up with this woman.
"And you'd like the entire scene to occur in the dark, so filming would not be required?"
"No filming!" Holly squeaked, imagining her mother's reaction if this ended up on the internet.
"That's probably wise. We do occasionally use infrared, but with mixed results. Everyone looks a bit like an alien, which gives the footage a cartoonish quality. Not exactly sexy." Miss Bright said with a small smile.
Holly didn't return the smile. She was feeling too overwhelmed to respond. What kind of fantasy demanded infrared technology exactly? This was sounding more and more like a covert surveillance operation, rather than a harmless little therapeutic sex scene.
"Now, we have your check and the code for your security system. And you'll leave your spare set of apartment keys with the barista at the coffee shop off the lobby of your building, correct?"
Holly nodded. "Yes. Her name is Emily. She's a friend and will be there until midnight. That's when her shift ends."
Miss Bright made a notation on Holly's application. "Are you sure you don't want him to come through the patio door as your original prowler did?"
Holly shook her head. "I don't really think I could handle that. Besides my neighbors are still on alert. Most of them are seniors and if they saw a strange man sneaking in through the glass door again, they'd probably break the front door down with their walkers. And that could be embarrassing for everyone involved. I'd rather not explain to them that I hired some random stranger to re-enact my home invasion."
Miss Bright gave her a sympathetic look. "Sounds like you have some good friends in your building. You're lucky. This city can be very anonymous."
"Yes. I'm very fortunate. Now, is there anything else you need? Are we good to go?"
Miss Bright looked doubtfully down at the mostly empty application form. "I suppose. If you're sure you don't have any other requirements for your SF? Wardrobe or physical attributes?" She raised an eyebrow on the word 'attributes' as if challenging Holly to request a man with a micro-penis.
Holly really didn't give a damn about his attributes. She did, however, think about requesting the he refrain from wearing cologne. Most strong artificial or chemical smells caused her to have a very unattractive reaction. Sneezing and coughing throughout her home invasion fantasy probably wouldn't set the sexy mood. But since she was feeling self-conscious enough without bringing her freaky super-sniffer into this situation, she decided not to mention it.
"I do have one request. I know this is a little odd, but since I won't be seeing him and my hands will be tied at least through most of it, I'm wondering if maybe I could request that he have a deep voice?" Holly flushed and craned forward in her chair to get a better look at the document Miss Bright was making notes on. "But it's not really a requirement. I mean, the man in the dream had a deep, raspy voice, but I know that must be difficult to come by. And I don't think it'll really matter."
"Actually, we do have one SF who does a fairly accurate Batman impression. The Christian Bale version. Not the Adam West one."
"That's a relief. Can't quite imagine Adam West talking dirty." Holly gave a little shudder. "That would be very disturbing. But I think I'll pass on the Christian Bale version too. He sounds a bit like he has a particularly phlegmy head cold in those movies. Just forget I mentioned it. If you have a guy with an authentic, non-crazy sounding, deep voice, then that would be my preference. But don't go to any trouble."
Miss Bright set her silver fountain pen down and gave Holly a severe look. "Miss Chambers, it's my job to go to any length of trouble to ensure your satisfaction, so please don't worry about inconveniencing me. I will find you an SF with the voice of a very butch angel if that's what you require."
"I appreciate that, but as long as he doesn't sound like Pee Wee Herman, I'll be fine with it. Now, are we set for next Thursday night then?"
Miss Bright closed the green folder and stood up, walking around the desk until she was directly in front of Holly. "Yes. I believe we are. Just give me a few days to sort out the details and I'll contact you via email."
Holly started to stand, but found that she was a bit unsteady on her feet. She had forgotten to eat again. This light-headedness was becoming a common occurrence in her life. No matter how much she tried, she just couldn't concentrate on even the most mundane tasks; even remembering to feed herself was becoming a challenge.
Before this had happened, she had been completely together. A successful freelance photographer, she'd ran her own business and managed a busy social life as well. Now, sleep deprivation was robbing her of everything. Her old life, where she went out, had fun, slept in late, dreamed of success and looked forward to the future seemed like an alternate reality to her now. All she thought about lately was getting some deep, dreamless sleep. Until she had that, nothing else mattered.
Hoping Miss Bright wouldn't notice that she'd nearly toppled over; she sat back down and pretended to rummage through her knapsack which was sitting on the cool marble floor next to her chair. As she waited for the dizziness to pass, she couldn't help but look directly down at the blonde's feet. Expecting the black power pumps worn by most downtown female executives Holly was quite surprised to find that Miss Bright was sporting unbelievably frivolous metallic strappy sandals with at least five inch heels. She also had a bright green leprechaun tattooed on one slim ankle. And each and every toenail had a bright yellow happy face painted on it.
Holly felt a little like Dorothy in the Land of Oz, getting a glimpse behind the curtain at the Great and Powerful Oz. Clearly, the ice queen persona was merely a facade. She grinned to herself, suddenly liking Miss Bright a great deal more than she had during her interview. Those whimsical adornments belonged on a real woman with a past and a sense of humor. Not the unfeeling cyborg she was emulating so convincingly. Holly didn't know the reason for the pretence, but she certainly felt better about putting her fantasy in Miss Bright's hands knowing that she was an actual human being.
Standing up, she allowed Miss Bright to escort her to the empty lobby. When they reached the elevator, Holly pushed the call button and then turned to face the other woman. "I know this must seem ridiculous to you," she said, nervously biting one seriously mangled thumbnail. "Trust me. If someone had told me a few months ago that I'd be paying to have a sexual fantasy fulfilled as a means of banishing my horribly erotic dreams, I would have laughed my butt off too. But I really don't know what else to do."
Miss Bright held Holly's gaze as the elevator door opened. Her expression was cool but not entirely unmoved by her client's desperation. "Holly," she said quietly. "I don't know if this is going to help you out at all. There's obviously more going on here than just a woman getting over a near trauma. Whatever the real problem is, I think you need to give up your reservations and really commit to this experience. Pretend this isn't some kind of unorthodox therapy session and abandon yourself to your fantasy instead. Even if it doesn't banish the nightmares or cure your sleep-deprivation, you'll definitely get more out of this if you stop feeling like you shouldn't enjoy it." She smiled and reached out to squeeze Holly's arm. "Now, please go home and try to get some rest."
Holly stepped into the elevator and gave Miss Bright a wry grin and a small wave. "If I manage to do that, I won't need your service, now will I? And you'll be off the hook."
As the doors slid closed between them, Miss Bright thought to herself, T hat is one refund I'd issue without a single reservation.
Turning on her heel, Elizabeth Bright walked back to her office. She wasn't thinking about Holly and her fantasy though. She was pondering the mystery of Holly's "Your Fantasy" card. She suspected she knew its source and was not looking forward to confronting the rogue ex-Scene Facilitator who was most likely responsible for its circulation. As much as she'd prefer to forget about it she really couldn't have him representing Delta of Venus Inc. Not when he'd been fired long ago. By her.
No, this was going to be a difficult conversation. But a tiny, traitorous, horny part of her couldn't quite contain its excitement at the idea of talking to him again. She stubbornly ignored that part of her and grimly sat down at her desk, prepared to do battle.