See Me .(7)

“It’s all right. The rain was coming down pretty hard. I’m sure the drive took a while. Please.” She motioned to the wingback chair in front of the desk. “Have a seat.”

Sean swiped his gaze over the room. It was decorated like the lobby, only more spacious… and with more plants. He wanted to smile. The air carried a hint of something spicy, exotic. Incense, he concluded when he glanced over to see the ceramic Buddha holding the thin stick. Filmy curls of smoke waved up only to disappear. It was massage-parlor-meets-boardroom.

Ron handed her his application. “I can fax a résumé over.” They both stared at him as if he’d spoken Vulcan. “I mean, if you want it.”

Ron grinned. “And what kind of qualifications would we find on that resume, Sean?”

The guy was fucking with him. He felt like an ass. Of course they didn’t want to hear about his internships and degree qualifications. There was only one requirement for this job, and it sure as hell wasn’t listed under the achievement section on his résumé.

“Right.” Sean decided to shut his mouth and stick to just answering their questions.

“Ron, could you shut the door on your way out?” Abigail’s expression was neutral as she continued to flip through the pages of his application.

“Sure you don’t want any coffee?” Ron asked.

Sean readjusted in the seat. The chair felt too small. “No, thanks.”

Ron left, leaving behind a room full of silence. Sean waited for her to read through the application and drop the bomb that he’d heard so many times before.

“I see you left the fetishes section blank.” She finally looked up at him. Her gaze flitted to the computer screen, then back again. “Is there a reason why?”

Sean wanted to swallow his tongue. That section was on the next-to-last page. That meant she’d already read his answer to the have you ever been in jail question. He’d been incarcerated, and she chose to ask him about his lack of fetishes? He didn’t know what to say. He decided to treat the conversation like one of the million other interviews he’d been on over the last year.

“I don’t have any fetishes, but I’m open to new experiences.” Good answer.

“I see. So you don’t prefer blondes to brunettes. How about voyeurism to exhibitionism?”

What to what? “I like to watch women swim in the nude. Does that count?”

He didn’t smile until she did. Her lips parted like a blossoming rose.

“Of course watching women swim naked would count. It’s rather vanilla, but it counts just as much as a man who enjoys watching a woman smoke a cigar. It’s all relevant to the one with the fantasy. Do you have a preference for skinny women or full-figured women?”

“Men like that, watching women smoke cigars? I have a preference, I guess, but it wouldn’t interfere with me performing my job.”

By the way she ignored his answer, she didn’t seem too happy with his response. “Sure, men and women like a lot of things, even smoking cigars. We’re here to provide a visual experience of their fantasies. Has Ron filled you in on what Fantasy Emporium really is?”

Sean thought about it. No, he hadn’t. All Ron had said was that he had what the company was looking for, and he could make some fast cash doing porn films. He didn’t want to sound like he hadn’t done his research, but he hadn’t done his research. “Yeah. Yes. He told me the company makes pornographic films.”

By the way she lifted her eyebrows, he knew she’d caught him bullshitting. “Come here.” Sean leaned against the edge of the desk as she turned the computer screen so he could see it. Her nimble fingers flew over the keys. Her fingernails weren’t the ones with the white tips. All the women who talked to him had fake fingernails, fake tans, and fake tits too. The chipped pink nail polish made his stomach do something weird.

“This, Mr. Drennan, is Fantasy Emporium.”

Sean pulled his attention to the computer. The lavish colors flowed across the screen. The tabs were gold-colored with intricate scrollwork laced throughout the page.

“It’s a Web site designed for custom pornography. See here?” She moved the cursor over the sign in tab. “First, the client must create an account. After that, they can go to the site and simply sign in and begin their adventure. Everything is kept confidential. They pay with a PayPal account or credit card. The information is secure. My clients can order with the utmost discretion. We have many clients from all over the world.”

He was kicking himself in the ass for not checking out the Web site sooner. The decision to take Ron up on his offer was last minute. He’d gotten the bill for his tuition and made a rash decision. His bank account was almost in the negative, and the tank in his truck was on E. Either he could put gas in the truck to get to the rec center to meet with the guys, or he could eat for the next few days. The tank was now half full, and he drank the last of the milk with the last of the cereal this morning. He hadn’t even thought about checking out the Web site. Just chalk it up to another one of his bonehead moves.