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The next day in class, Professor Deveaux praised Chelsea’s new poem, but gave her no sign of her next step in joining the Society. Chelsea lingered by the Professor’s desk after everyone left, desperate for some clue as to when she would see her Muse again. “Hello,” she said timidly.
“Chelsea! I hope you know I wasn’t just flattering you, ma chère—I loved your poem. It was exquisite.” Professor Deveaux gave her a fond smile as she slipped on her coat.
If she hadn’t known better, she’d think she imagined the entire Society last weekend. “I, uh, got an email…”
“Yes, the Society was very pleased with your test story. You’re a fine writer, Chelsea.” Professor Deveaux lowered her voice.
Chelsea fidgeted, knowing she needed to be discreet yet burning to see her Muse again. “I was very…pleased…with my Muse.”
“So I gathered from your story.” The professor picked up her briefcase and gave a brief nod. “You’ll be hearing from the Society shortly, Chelsea. Until then, it’s really better that we not discuss this so…openly.”
“Of course,” Chelsea murmured. She followed Professor Deveaux out of the classroom to find Jeff waiting in the hall. He watched them both with the eagerness of a puppy.
“Uh, Professor, could I get a moment with you?” he asked quickly. “I wanted to talk to you about my poem.”
She glanced at her watch. “If it’s quick, Jeff.”
As Chelsea headed down the stairs, she bit back a smile. It was hard not to imagine Jeff’s shocked expression if he learned what both women had gotten up to this weekend. Little could he dream that the Professor had been served canapés by naked boys at a secret society called Erotics Anonymous—and that she, good girl Chelsea, had sex with a stranger in an alley behind a bar.
* * *
That night, she checked her email. Her heart gave a little leap when she saw the waiting anonymous message.
Dear Chelsea,
Greetings from the Society. You are now to prepare for your second test. On Saturday night, your driver will pick you up at seven o’clock.
You will have three days to submit your written story of your encounter.
There the email ended. This time her outfit was not specified, as it was before. She puzzled briefly over the possible scenarios in store for her, but she was too happy to really care. As long as he was there—her silent, brown-haired Muse of the genius fingers and perfect cock—that was all that mattered.
Chelsea shut off her laptop and rolled onto her bed. “Oh, Jonathan,” she whispered into her pillow, “I know it’s you… I know it is. Please be you.”
Saturday night could not come fast enough.
Chapter Four
Another heavy snow fell that Friday night. From her window, Chelsea watched students engage in snowball fights on the campus. By Saturday, her nerves were so frayed she wanted to scream. What should she wear? What should she say to him? Was she really about to meet her literary and erotic idol face to face? At last she settled on a simple black dress and went down to the foyer, where a silver limousine waited outside the dorm.
“Is that for you again?” The girl at the dorm’s front desk looked amazed. “Check you out with all these limos picking you up. Where are you going tonight?”
“I have no idea,” Chelsea said truthfully and walked out of the dorm, enjoying the girl’s stunned face.
As before, no driver emerged to greet her or open her door. Instead she slipped into the warm darkness of the limo in silence. She shut the door, adjusted her coat and the limo pulled off into the night with that smooth purr she recognized from her previous test. She smiled to herself as they drove past the students heading off to campus parties. Yes, this was the life she had always dreamed of—exotic, adventurous and slightly dangerous. No doubt Nikki and Jeff would think she was crazy for embarking on such a risqué venture, but there wasn’t a place she’d rather be.
As the limo drove off campus and passed through town, her stomach fluttered wildly with butterflies. Where exactly was she being taken tonight? What would transpire? Her dark imagination couldn’t help but concoct lurid scenarios. What if Professor Deveaux was really a killer and the Society a cult of murderous sex fiends? She nervously adjusted her coat and told herself she was being silly. Everyone at the party she had seen had been having a safe and consensual time.
The limo was traveling into the suburbs now. Snowy lawns looked bluish in the winter moonlight, the large houses dark and quiet. This was the kind of neighborhood that housed wealthy executives and their families, not kinky sex parties… So why were they here? A few minutes later the limo pulled up in front of a large, white Colonial home. The driveway was empty though the surrounding houses looked normal enough. For a moment she thought her Muse had failed to show up. But she knew she needed to trust in the Society. She climbed out of the limo and went to the door and rang the bell. When no one answered, she tried the doorknob and went in.
The house was dark and silent. Only a faint light flickering at the top of the staircase gave her a clue as to direction.
Okay, she thought, her stomach fluttering with anxiety. She could do this. Yes, it was the polar opposite of the loud, crowded bar of her previous test and yes, she was just a little nervous at the idea of a stranger waiting for her somewhere in these darkened rooms, but if it was her beloved Muse, she had nothing to fear.
Her mouth dry, she ascended the dark stairs and made her way to a lushly decorated bedroom lit by dozens of candles. In the center of the room waited a massive four-poster bed of black iron; on a round glass table, a white box bore her name. She opened it to pull forth one alluring treasure after another. The sheer thigh-high stockings, black corset and garter belt comprised an outfit from her dirtiest fantasies.
Waiting at the bottom of the box was a black satin blindfold.
Chelsea swallowed. She understood the task laid out for her, but this was far more disturbing than her encounter at the bar. Then, she had merely felt naughty, letting a stranger caress her so publicly, but now she was being asked to take a far greater leap of faith. Just the thought of dressing up in this corset and waiting blindfolded in a strange house for her Muse to come sent a shiver of fear and excitement down her spine.
