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“Don’t worry, your secrets are safe with S.E.C.R.E.T.,” Danica said.
Matilda cleared her throat. “Danica, ple
ase set Dauphine up in my office to fill out the questionnaire.” She looked at her watch.
“There’s a test?” I asked, my heart pounding.
“No, no,” Cassie said. “It’s just a list of things you’ve done or would like to do. Sexually. It helps the Committee plan the fantasies. Takes about half an hour.”
Danica reached beneath the desk, pulling from a small drawer a soft burgundy booklet about the size of a passport. She handed it to me. It felt like one of my sketching Moleskines from art class. The cover was embossed with an etching of three women, naked except for their long wavy hair. Beneath them was a Latin inscription: Nihil judicii. Nihil limitis. Nihil verecundiae.
“It means ‘No Judgment. No Limits. No Shame,’” Cassie said.
I opened up the booklet. Inside was a preamble:
What you have in your hands is completely confidential. Your answers are for you and for the Committee only. No one else will see your responses. For S.E.C.R.E.T. to help you, we must know more about you. Be thorough, be honest, be fearless. Please begin:
“So … I fill this out?”
“Yes. We’re just trying to understand your sexual history, your preferences, likes and dislikes,” Matilda said, as I followed Danica to a cozy office, glancing over my shoulder as Cassie gave me two thumbs up.
“Tea? Water?” Danica asked, pointing to a black leather Eames chair and ottoman near the bookshelf.
“I’m okay,” I said, glancing around the beautifully appointed room—at the white walls, oiled-walnut shelving, the mid-century modern touches. These were my kind of people, I thought. Then Matilda left me alone with my worries.
I would just have to be really clear with the Committee. I would tell them what I was willing to do and not willing to do. I would carefully list my rules: no flying, no lights on, nothing to do with beaches, no water. And if they couldn’t honor those wishes, then fine. I would walk away. I wasn’t here to change my life, just to enhance it, improve upon it. Somewhat. The sex part anyway.
But first they wanted basic information. I turned my attention to my little booklet again, scanning the questions, which veered from how many lovers I’d had, to one-night stands, threesomes, anal, oral—all with handy boxes, numbers and circles next to them. The first few questions were easy. I stopped counting my “number” after fifteen, so I rounded it up to twenty. Taking the five years with Luke into consideration, that made my lover count about two per year. I had always thought I’d been adventurous, but two men a year suddenly didn’t sound like that many.
A few minutes later, Cassie poked her head into the room.
“How are you doing? Ready?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” I said, handing her my marked-up booklet.
I followed her across the main foyer, through two high white doors. We were now in a boardroom filled with women, and the chatter stopped instantly the moment we entered. Meeting new people wasn’t my forte, and these were people to whom I would have to be vulnerable. This is simply not a good idea.
But before I could turn on my heels, Cassie pulled out a chair for me. As I sank into it, I slowly glanced around the all-white boardroom, a perfect backdrop for the ten women of various ages, colors and sizes who were all decked out in their vivid outfits, looking like the United Nations Commission on Perfect Accessories and Hair. I was dying to take in all their faces and at the same time half afraid to make direct eye contact.
“Ladies,” Cassie said. “Thank you for meeting with us today. I’d like to introduce you to Dauphine. She is our next S.E.C.R.E.T. candidate, I hope. If she’ll have us.”
This sent a cheery applause through the room. There was a pause, and everyone was looking at me. That’s when I realized I was supposed to speak. And say what? Oh no, I haven’t prepared properly for this! I’ve wrecked everything. Trust and control.
“Hi. Thank you. I’m still … well, I have a lot of questions. And I’m not completely … It’s just all so … new.”
Despite my inarticulate introduction, the women all seemed reassuring, kind, and I began to relax into my chair. Cassie pointed and named each member of the Committee: Bernice, Kit, Michelle, Brenda, Angela, Pauline, Maria, Marta, Amani and Matilda.
“Don’t worry, the only name you really have to remember is mine,” Cassie said. “I, of course, will be your Guide, while they, the Committee”—she indicated the whole room—“will guide me.”
“You’ll both need the help,” Angela said, winking at me. She was also ribbing Cassie.
Maybe because some of their faces were vaguely familiar—they ate, worked and shopped on Magazine Street, after all. Maybe because I recognized the painting of Carolina Mendoza on the far wall and decided to make her my private guardian angel. Or maybe because I knew they were women who, like me, had lost some of their confidence and were helping each other get it back. Regardless of why, it suddenly seemed normal to sign up for what they were offering: a sexual rebirth.
Danica placed a folder in front of me. It was burgundy, soft to the touch, embossed with the words My S.E.C.R.E.T.
“This is your fantasy folder. There is one page per fantasy. You can fill this out at home,” Cassie said. “When you’re done, Danica will courier it back to us.”
On the right side were several sheets of cream-colored parchment. On the left, S.E.C.R.E.T.’s mandate was spelled out.
