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“Each fantasy must be:
Safe, in that the participant feels no danger.
Erotic, in that the fantasy is sexual in nature, not just imaginary.
Compelling, in that the participant truly wants to complete the fantasy.
Romantic, in that the participant feels wanted and desired.
Ecstatic, in that the participant experiences joy in the act.
Transformative, in that something in the participant changes in a fundamental way.”
Inside the folder, in each flap, was a fantasy list. I scanned it, my face heating up: secret sex in public … sex with an authority figure … a professor … a police officer … tied up (Gulp! Trust and control!) … served, spanked … serviced … waited on … sex with a famous person … water … nature … rescued … elevator … airplane (Jesus, flying could be involved?) … blindfold … food … taken by surprise … threesome … foursome … watched … being watched …
It was enthralling, thrilling and terrifying in equal measure.
“Remember,” Matilda said, “you choose your fantasies, set the limits and maintain total control. Anytime you want to, you can stop.”
I looked around the room at the Committee. This time my eyes paused for a moment at each warm, expectant face. All these women made me feel like the biggest adventure of my life was about to begin. And yet, I saw myself fussing and worrying over every single scenario, slowly neutering my adventures, whittling them down to carefully choreographed interludes. I’d do this but not that. Or I’d be willing to try this but only if that were in place. I saw myself double- and triple-guessing myself over each decision. Then I remembered something my dad said, the day he finally pried me off the side of our backyard pool. Since I was a toddler, I’d been content enough to clutch the walls, to let my legs barely kick at the water. But he said: If you don’t wanna drown, sugar, you gotta learn how to go all the way under.
So I had no choice but to do what I did next.
I tossed the fantasy folder to the middle of the table.
“Thank you all. But I’m not going to fill out this fantasy list. Not because I don’t want to do this. Quite the opposite. I not only want to do this, I need to do this. But I have been making lists and labels and setting limits all my life, living within strict boundaries and according to certain rules. You’ve told me today that your job is to keep me safe. You’ve told me that I can stop the fantasies at any time. Those seem like reasonable limits. The rest, I leave in your hands, with my only instruction being this: Surprise me.”
I had the attention of the whole table. Mouths were agape. Cassie was covering hers with a hand, her lovely bracelet dangling from her wrist, one I’d soon be wearing.
”So you accept?” she asked.
“Yes,” I said, feeling defiant, triumphant. “I accept.”
CASSIE
AS MUCH AS I was thrilled by Dauphine’s bravery and excited to guide her, I was also admittedly a little jealous. After all, I had caught a glimpse of her fantasy board, and some of the marvelous men she was about to experience. That’s why I whipped out my phone right then and there on Third Street, before reaching Magazine. Enough of this silly reticence, these dumb fears. Dauphine had said, “Surprise me,” in response to the Committee asking her what kind of sexual fantasies she hoped to enjoy. If I was going to be someone’s Guide, I had better start getting brave myself.
I punched in Mark Drury’s number with a new vigor.
“Hello?” he said in a voice that sounded like it had been stored in an oak barrel in a damp basement.
“I woke you up, didn’t I.” Oh shit.
“Yes, you did.”
“But it’s four in the afternoon.”
“Is that you, Mom? I thought you passed away eleven years ago. This is such a nice surprise,” he said, yawning.
“No, it’s not your—It’s the girl you met on the patio a few days ago. Cassie. Though, I am sorry about your mother.”
“I’m just messing with you. I know who you are, and for the record, my mother’s alive.”
Okay, I’m dealing with a jokester. I can do this.
“Wait till I tell her what you did.”
“That’s very presumptuous, assuming you’ll meet my mom before you’ve even gone out on one date with me. Where are you?”
