The Masked Menage, an Erotic Novel (First Time Taboo Agency Book 2)

by Lulu Cherry

  "But that's much more than what's listed on the application," I said. "I'm paying in advance. If anything, shouldn't I be getting a discount?"

  "You're Ross Bardot's daughter. You can afford it. Plus, I have a feeling we can give you some really expedited service." She said. "Will this be cash, check, or charge?"

  This was all ridiculous. What was I doing? Was this how I wanted to lose my virginity?

  But Sandy had recommended them.

  She'd said if there was any way for me to find the man in the shadows, the man from my dreams, then this would be it.

  Fine, then. I would pay their fee. I would see what results they turned up. I reached for my purse.

  Chapter 9

  After I paid, the old woman quickly disappeared. The receptionist led me down a narrow hallway.

  Along the passage were paintings that were vaguely obscene. They were all done in an impressionistic style, so you couldn't clearly see what you were looking at.

  But I felt sure each one of them depicted two or more people fucking, and in very strange positions.

  Well, this was the First Time Taboo Agency, I thought. The paintings sort of made sense.

  The receptionist opened the door to a room. I looked inside. It was a small room with a big window overlooking the city street.

  There was a single desk inside. There were two pencils, a test booklet, and an answer sheet.

  "Just let me know when you are finished," he said. "There's no time limit, but it shouldn't take more than an hour."

  I nodded to him. Then I went in the room and sat down at the desk. He left, shutting the door as he did so.

  I opened the test booklet. Everything was multiple choice. At first, the questions were quite trivial.

  The first question was as follows:

  What's your favorite color?

  a. red

  b. aquamarine

  c. amethyst

  d. black

  This didn't seem fair. My favorite color was green. It wasn't even available. So, I marked "b" for aquamarine.

  The whole test went on like this. Asking questions but never giving me the answers I would have chosen.

  The questions got stranger as I went on.

  Another question was like this:

  What's the biggest problem in the world?

  a. candy

  b. men

  c. shyness

  d. prudes

  I thought to myself, what about war? Hunger? Global warming? What kind of test was this?

  I barely knew how to answer.

  Not knowing what else to choose I impulsively chose "d." I didn't even know why.

  The questions got stranger still as I went on. They became obscene.

  One read like this:

  You're having sex with two men. Which position would you prefer?

  a. One mouth, two dicks

  b. Both men licking my pussy

  c. One dick in my mouth, one dick in my ass

  d. Stand in line, boys!

  I had no idea how to answer this. I chose "c" on impulse and moved on.

  Part of me considered putting down the pencil, getting up, and leaving this place entirely. Fuck them, fuck their service. This was too fucking strange.

  But I'd just paid them a lot of money. And I so wanted to meet the man in the shadows, the man from my dreams. I knew that he was the man that had to take my virginity.

  If this place was for real, then all this had to lead to him. I knew this in my heart of hearts.

  So I continued on with the test. There were so many strange and lewd questions. But at last I came to the last question.

  It read this way:

  What's your greatest sin?

  a. I once stole money from my father.

  b. I touch my clit all the time.

  c. I suck cock and like it.

  d. I'm still a virgin.

  I froze at the last option. I suddenly felt like crying. I didn't know why.

  How could it be a sin to be a virgin? Wasn't it typically the opposite.

  But suddenly this made so much sense to me. It did feel like a sin to be nineteen and a virgin in our day and age.

  What was wrong with me?

  My hand trembling, I filled in the answer as "d".

  At last, I had finished their bizarro test. I realized I'd broken out in a cold sweat.

  But done was done.

  I picked up my answer sheet. I opened the door to my room. I looked up and down the hallway. Everything was quiet. I walked back to the main desk.

  The male receptionist from before was gone.

  In his place was another male receptionist. This new receptionist was also buff and handsome. I instantly knew that he, just like the other one, was an airhead.

  He looked up at me and smiled.

  "I've finished my test," I said, laying it on the counter.

  He picked it up. He actually paged through it!

  "Hey!" I said. "That's not for you to look at, is it?"

  He shrugged. He got out from behind the counter.

  "Follow me," he said.

  We went down the hallway. To a different door this time. He knocked.

  "Who is it?"

  It was the voice of the old woman from before.

  "She's finished taking the test," said this new receptionist. "You said to let you know when she was done."

  We both suddenly heard a little bit of a fracas on the other side of the door. Then, a moment later, the door opened.

  The male receptionist from before came stepping out of the room. His hair was disheveled. So were his clothes.

  He cast his face away from us as he passed. I watched as he zipped up his fly and then began tucking in his shirt.

  I tried not to think about the implications of this.

  The male receptionist standing next to me, motioned for me to enter the room.

  "Our president will now give you your psychological interview," he said.

  Chapter 10

  The old woman sat in a tall armchair comfortably. The chair was much bigger than she was, causing her to look quite tiny.

  Despite how little she appeared, she looked perfectly poised and calm. I sat in the chair opposite her.

  Without any preambles or explanations, the old woman fired away her first question.

  "You're at a movie theater. You look down and see a spider crawling up your arm. What do you do?" She said.

  I shuddered.

  "What?" I said.

  The old woman reached for a pad. She scribbled some notes on it. Then, she repeated the question, word for word.

  "You're at a movie theater. You look down and see a spider crawling up your arm. What do you do?"

  "I don't know," I said. "I guess I'd scream and jump up. I'd try and flick it off me."

  She nodded, scribbled down a few more notes. She looked back at me.

  "You're sucking on a popsicle. Its flavor is strange, salty. You realize it's a cock, would you keep sucking?"

  I blanched.

  "Excuse me?" I nearly screamed. "What kind of question is that? And what was with that strange freakish test? Who the fuck are you people?"

  It came out of no where. I started crying.

  All I wanted was to meet the man in the shadows. Why did I have to go through all this?

  The old woman sighed. From somewhere she found a box of tissues and handed them to me.

  "This is a psychological test. We're profiling you. You want to lose your virginity to the right person, do you not?" She said.

  "I want the man in the shadows. I want to lose my virginity to him. That's the only reason I came here," I said.

  "Young lady, most nineteen-year-old virgins don't know what they want, okay?" She said.

  She picked up my test and began to page through it. She alternated between shaking her head and nodding. At last, she let out a deep breath.

  "Tell me about the man in the shadows," she said.

  "I dream about him constantly," I
said. "He's the one I want, I know it."

  She listened intently while I elaborated on my dream. I told her everything. I ended by telling her how sure I was that he was the one I wanted.

  "But you don't even know who he is. What if he were a serial killer? Would you still want him then?" She asked.

  "He wouldn't be," I said.

  I blew my nose with one of the tissues. I looked around for a trash can. I couldn't find one.

  The old woman managed to awkwardly get out of her tall chair. She shuffled over to me. She put a hand on one of mine. She looked up at me.

  "I'm trying to help you, okay?" She said. "I know we're a bit casual around here. And we're unorthodox. But I think we can help you, okay?"

  I looked at her eyes. She had such strange eyes. I couldn't read them at all. It unnerved me.

  "You'll help me find the man in the shadows?" I asked.

  She nodded.

  "But I can't be responsible for who he turns out to be," she said. "Or what happens on your journey to meet him."

  "I understand," I said.

  "You don't. But you will," she said. "Now will you answer my questions?"

  I dried the last bit of my tears. I wiped my eyes with the soggy tissue I was holding.

  "Now, you're sucking on a popsicle. Its flavor is strange, salty. You realize it's a cock, would you keep sucking?"

  I blinked.

  "Don't think. Just let your gut answer," she said.

  "Yes," I said. "I would keep sucking."

  She smiled, then she scribbled down a few notes.

  Then she said, "you're walking in the park at night. You stumble across a man and a woman having sex. Do you watch?"

  "How are they doing it?" I asked.

  "She's on her hands and knees. He's fucking her from behind. Do you watch?"

  "Yes, I watch," I said.

  She nodded, scribbled some more notes.

  Then she said, "you offer to give a stranger a blowjob. Do you want him to wear a condom or not?"

  "What flavors does he have on him?" I asked.

  My question came out of nowhere. I surprised myself by asking it.

  The old woman put her pen down. She turned her eyes to me and looked right at me.

  "You offer to give a stranger a blowjob. He has minty blue and cherry red condoms. Do you want him to wear a condom or not?"

  "I'd tell him to put on the cherry red. Then I'd blow him." I said.

  "How?" She asked.

  "How?"

  "Yes, how?" She asked.

  "Slowly at first, to savor it," I said. "Then fast to make sure he got off."

  The old woman cleared her throat. I realized I'd thrown her off her stride. I felt proud of this. I doubt that happened much.

  She went through several more obscene questions.

  Her last question was as follows: "You're in a room with men. You're entirely naked. All of the men are watching you. Would you rather have anal sex with the overweight smelly one or the greasy thin one?"

  "Really?" I said. "You're really going to ask me that?"

  She didn't say anything. She just waited for my answer.

  "The greasy thin one," I said. "He'd be better lubed for the job."

  She nodded as if that was what she expected. Very briefly she scribbled on her pad.

  Then she looked up at me.

  "Can you wait here a minute?" She asked.

  I shrugged.

  She left the room. I waited.

  She came back soon.

  "Are you busy tonight?" She said.

  "Sort of," I said.

  "Cancel it," she said.

  She handed me a card.

  "Go here at the designated time. Do whatever it takes to get in. The man in the shadows will be there tonight."

  I looked at the card. An address was written on it and a time.

  "Do what ever it takes to get in? What are you talking about? What is this?"

  "Just go there at the designated time. Do whatever it takes to get in. Then steady as you go. You'll find him," she said.

  "But..."

  "Oh, and I almost forgot," she said.

  She handed me a clipboard. Attached to it was some sort of contract.

  "Please sign the release form," she said.

  I signed it. I handed the clipboard back to her.

  "I just go to this address at the time written here?" I said.

  "Do whatever it takes to get in," she said. "Oh, and wear a dress gown. Something fancy. And a mask. Wear one of those, too."

  She began to push me out the door.

  "A mask?"

  "Like the ones they wear at those masked balls. Oh, and I don't recommend panties. Now, I'm very busy. Good luck to you, Miss Bardot. I have to say good-bye now," she said.

  She shoved me out the door and then shut it. I just stood there for a minute. I was full of questions.

  I looked at the card she'd given me. My hand was actually shaking.

  I realized I recognized the address.

  Chapter 11

  The address on the card belonged to the estate of Roland Hawthorne. He was the richest man in the city.

  His estate was on the same street as the governor's mansion. I'd driven by it more than once on my way to the posh part of town.

  I'd never seen the actual mansion because the entire estate was surrounded by tall stone walls. I was supposed to go there?

  The time on the card read 9:13 p.m. Why was the time so precise? None of this made any sense to me.

  Still, I spent the day shopping for a proper gown. I chose a beautiful black sheath. It was sleek and showed off my figure. I also bought a black lace carnival mask.

  I got home in the late afternoon with my shopping bags. I bumped into Daddy at the door. He had his small carry-on suitcase with him.

  "Where are you off to?" I said.