by Carol Caiton
Suddenly, the role she'd practiced, for all of sixty seconds, deserted her and left a gaping blank across her mind. Two steps into the room her knees locked. She stood like a statue as he rose from his behind his desk and all she could think about was landing out on the street with a mountain of clothes at her feet, a hefty mortgage payment that had no house to show for it, and a pair of breasts that would draw a lot of unwanted trouble.
She croaked out the necessary courtesies as they introduced themselves, then managed to shuffle her way over to the seating arrangement he indicated. Maybe he sensed her panic. Maybe he'd felt the tension that stiffened her fingers when she shook his hand. Whatever the reason, he took the armchair across from hers, settled comfortably in the seat, and spent several minutes telling her about himself.
He'd had a twenty-two year practice in New York before coming to Florida. He entertained her with a description of riding the subway during rush hour, then told her he'd played a role in the development of RUSH's membership application. He worked at RUSH in order to observe the diverse sexual habits of healthy individuals and compare his findings with those of his former patients. He also found he enjoyed the freedom of being able to work without the responsibilities of running a private office.
Then he sat back in his chair, studied her for a moment, and said, "I was passing the window as you approached the front entrance. It was only a glimpse, three or four seconds, but the vibrant young woman I saw is something of a contrast to the young lady seated in front of me now."
He waited, eyes patiently watching, wanting a response.
But her heart began hammering in her chest. She didn't want to talk. She didn't want to say anything at all. As frightened as she was, she'd ruin everything. Acting—lying—didn't come easily to her. It had surprised her when she looked into Mason Ingersol's eyes and said Dr. Zeman would affirm her suitability as an R-link. It had surprised her further when the lawyer hadn't called her a fraud.
She cleared her throat, but her mouth was too dry and it didn't do any good. "I . . . um . . . I've never spoken with a psychologist before."
"And that makes you uncomfortable?"
He smiled as though he understood, so she nodded. "Yes." And that definitely wasn't a lie.
"Nina, you're overall profile is healthy and sound. You passed all the application markers, and the criterion for membership at RUSH is rigid, R-link membership even more so."
She opened her mouth. Closed it. Then opened it again. "You don't think it's abnormal to want to be an R-link? I mean . . . having sex with a different man every time. You don't think that's sort of . . . unbalanced?"
The corners of his eyes crinkled. "It depends on the person. If every other aspect of a person's psyche tests in the normal range, why should their sexual preferences void that?"
She didn't have an answer.
"I'm not here to pass judgment on any one person's sexual pursuits," he said. "Men and women alike indulge in a complex variety of fantasies. RUSH merely provides the opportunity to engage in those fantasies." He gave a small shrug and another smile. "I meet with RUSH's most active clients to monitor their continued well being, which serves a dual purpose by providing grist for the mill."
He waited while she digested that and she thought of Geneva and a class that would ease a woman into fantasy sex with two men at the same time.
"Women are free to experiment here," he continued as though reading her thoughts. "RUSH provides an environment for healthy individuals to enjoy sex as a natural aspect of human behavior, so they can take that step with the assurance of absolute safety. A substantial number of questions on the application identifies individuals with a propensity toward cruelty or violence. So when someone is approved for membership, it's because that individual is stable and healthy, not because his or her fantasies are proper, or more or less extreme than yours or mine.
His relaxed conversation, his ready smile, and his obvious absorption with his chosen profession made it easy to understand why people would confide in him. If he folded up the sleeves of his white dress shirt and covered it with a fishing vest, he'd look like the most approachable person on the planet.
Then he leaned forward, smiled, and ruined it.
"You, however, have a blue link."
Every fine hair on the back of her neck rose. She was an R-link with an unauthorized blue link sitting in her account and RUSH's resident psychologist knew about it. She'd hoped to keep it as a back-up plan and use it when the addendum ran its course. If that information found its way to the board of directors, well, they'd already invested huge sums of money in her as an R-link. The icon would probably disappear as mysteriously as it had appeared in the first place.
"I don't—" She had to take a breath. "I don't actually have a blue link. Not technically. I mean, I haven't accepted it."
The doctor eyed her curiously so she shut her mouth. She didn't know which direction to take next, didn't know what he wanted to hear from her.
"We've had three green-class links at RUSH, but this is the first blue," he told her. Then he settled back in his chair and seemed to relax. "Another young woman once applied for an R-link membership. She had very little sexual experience and . . . ."
That was all Nina heard. Very little sexual experience. Clearly, Simon Yetzer had told Dr. Zeman about her. The board of directors, the company lawyer, and now the staff psychologist. Who else had he told? Should she assume every employee at RUSH knew she'd never had sex before? When had a girl's virginity become such a white elephant?
". . . because of the nature of an R-link membership," Dr. Zeman went on. "I'd already decided to recommend a moderate beginning."
What had she missed? A moderate beginning?
"Faced with your unique circumstances," he said, "I would have recommended prolonged interaction with your first instructor. Then, after meeting with you again, I planned to suggest engaging with two or three amber links before moving on to active R-link status."
Amber links? They were the lowest of the low.
She started to protest but Dr. Zeman held up a hand. "However, circumstances have changed."
He smiled that friendly smile again. It even sparkled in his eyes. But she didn't trust it this time. He might be helpful at slowing things down for her, but he wanted to link her with the worst of the worst. Even the best of the worst wouldn't be good.
Her freshly polished nails dug into her palms and she tried to relax. She must be blowing this all out of proportion. The worst of the worst? It couldn't be that horrible or the women would leave.
Simon Yetzer was her only standard for measuring the character of RUSH's male clients. She should strike up a conversation with a few other men for a broader perspective, maybe ask to share an outdoor table at lunchtime. After all, she had liked the attorney. And the guard at Checkpoint 2 had seemed nice enough.
"Nina, do you understand the compatibility range of a blue icon?"
"Yes, I think so. It means the possibility exists for a serious relationship."
His brow furrowed. "That's not quite accurate," he said. "The prospect of a serious relationship comes with a green icon. But a blue . . . ." He leaned slightly forward, his expression sober. "If a voucher existed that could guarantee the success of a lifelong partnership, a blue icon would be that voucher."
What was he saying?
"RUSH's membership application is the most detailed and extensive of its kind," he told her. "During the process of eliminating unsuitable candidates, it probes the innermost psyche to uncover needs and strengths the applicant probably isn't aware of. And when that data is analyzed, the linking system searches out the needs and strengths of every other applicant, pairing people together who will complement one another."
She wanted to leave. She knew exactly where this conversation was headed. He wanted her to accept the blue icon. In his opinion, she'd be ecstatically happy in a relationship with Simon Yetzer. In a lifelong relationship with a man she didn't even like.
&nb
sp; She scrambled to her feet. "Dr. Zeman, you obviously know I've never had a sexual relationship. I've never even had a steady boyfriend." She lifted one hand and waved it toward the window beyond his plants. "I've never experienced the kind of adventure an R-link does every time she receives a pink icon. And you may not think I'm ready, and that's okay, I'm willing to wait. But I've been working toward this for the last six months. Longer than that if you add in all the time I spent researching and trying to learn about RUSH. I don't want to think about a lifelong partnership with anyone. Not yet."
"Please . . . sit down. Please." He gestured toward the chair she'd vacated, smiling as though he knew some secret she wasn't aware of.
She did as he asked, mostly because she couldn't afford to alienate him.
"No one expects you to think about a lifelong relationship at this point, Nina. My explanation of the linking process was given to help you recognize the years of psychiatric study that went into perfecting it, to assure you of its reliability. And my recommendation to the board of directors is going to be based on that reliability without any pressure on you to accept the blue icon. Ultimately, that choice is yours alone."
Okay. Maybe.
"But instead of easing you into the role of an R-link by suggesting a succession of amber folders, I want the board to allow ample time for you to get to know the man at the other end of your blue icon."
She thought quickly. Yes, that recommendation would fit in with her plan.
"Think for a minute about the man at the other end of that icon. Try to imagine what crossed his mind when the color blue showed up on his monitor. At the time, the idea of immersing himself in a relationship, lasting or otherwise, was the furthest thing from his mind. As a member of RUSH, he had a wide playing field. All of his sexual needs were satisfied. He had no emotional obligations and didn't have to concern himself with the complications that often accompany a relationship. No commitments, no compromises, no responsibilities. And that being the case, why do you think he would accept a monogamous blue link?"
Reluctantly, she summoned up an image of Simon in her mind. Who knew what made him do the things he did? Maybe the truth was he hadn't had a link for a long time. Maybe his personality made it difficult for the linking system to pair him with someone. Then again, she was pretty sure an amber link didn't require much compatibility beyond the bedroom.
"I don't know why he accepted the link," she finally said.
"Would you like to know what I think?"
"Yes," she told him. "I would." Because he'd stirred her curiosity. She wanted to know why a bachelor with a perfectly carefree lifestyle would choose to give it up.
Dr. Zeman nodded. "I visualize a man who probably sat staring at that icon for a very long time. Hours, I would guess. His first instinct would have been to decline it. He hadn't become part of RUSH only to find himself confronted with the prospect of a long-term relationship. And he would have known precisely what a blue icon encompassed . . . that it would change his life. He would have known it was monogamous. He would have known it would lead to a lifetime commitment. And the thought of that—all of that—very likely struck a note of fear in him. Maybe even anger. Staring at that icon, faced with a life-changing decision . . . . He didn't know the first thing about the woman at the other end of it. He had no name, no photograph, nothing."
She listened as he spoke. She could visualize Simon through his words, staring at his computer monitor. She could imagine the reluctance and the anger as well.
"Before accepting the link," Dr. Zeman continued, "he probably spent quite some time reflecting on his life . . . his successes, his failures. He would have looked toward his future . . . any plans or goals he had in mind. He would have thought long and hard about those things. And he would have questioned his trust in the linking system. His anger and the temptation to decline likely resurfaced several times before he allowed himself to consider the value of deep and abiding emotions . . . the loyalty and devotion between a superbly matched couple. He would have tried to imagine himself fulfilled in a way he'd never been fulfilled, to a capacity he couldn't fathom. And finally, he would have asked himself if it was worth giving up six months of a life-style he enjoyed for the promise of that."
He paused for a moment. Considered. "Another man might have declined it. He wouldn't have been able to accept the icon without at least a photograph to show him he'd be matched with a woman who was pleasing to look at . . . that other men would admire his choice of mate. But this man didn't have even that. So ego played no part in his decision. By the time he accepted your icon, he'd searched and fought with his soul. He accepted it on blind faith, hoping for the promise it symbolized, knowing he'd never have a guarantee like that again. And that's when he saw a future for himself that was more important than his freedom. That's when he was willing to change his life for it."
Nina's rebellion was silenced. She turned her gaze toward the windows and watched the swaying tips of palm fronds. How could the icon she was so eager to cast aside hold a value that momentous? She had no difficulty recalling the hours it had taken to answer the questions on RUSH's membership application and the mental exhaustion afterward. So how could a man she disliked so intensely be a superb match for her? How could he tell her, growl at her, to auction off her virginity if he'd accepted that icon and expected to share a future with her? Why would he taunt her, purposely and cruelly, if he wanted her to accept him?
Still . . . he'd filled out the same application she had. And he wouldn't have accepted the blue icon if he didn't have confidence in the linking system. So Dr. Zeman's vision of his struggle was probably accurate. And that meant Simon Yetzer had probably changed his mind since accepting it. That was the only logical explanation for his behavior. He didn't want that future after all, and he wanted her to refuse it at her end so he could return to his obligation-free bachelor life.
She wished she could accommodate him.
"The board of directors," Dr. Zeman said, "thought it best to slow the pace of your training when it became known you had no sexual experience."
"Yes, I know. I guess I'm something of an oddity here."
He smiled. "Policy changes are being implemented as we speak."
"I didn't realize I'd cause so much trouble."
"Not trouble," he assured her, smiling. "Adjustments. The application acknowledges that a woman without prior experience might apply for membership, but it wasn't anticipated she might choose an R-link package."
"I guess they were pretty surprised."
"I imagine they were."
A comfortable silence followed. The panic and tension she'd felt on entering his office had passed, replaced by an amicable understanding. On reflection, Nina thought she might even have convinced Dr. Zeman she was eager to have sex with an army of perverted men, but not too eager.
"I'd like you to spend time with the man who accepted that icon, give him a chance to become acquainted with you," Dr. Zeman said. "If, in the process, he becomes your first lover, you can view that as moving one step closer toward the R-link lifestyle. Or, you may find yourself willing to pursue something deeper. Something more meaningful."
She drew a long breath then nodded. Apparently he didn't know Simon had changed his mind. "How much time?" she asked. RUSH's board of directors wouldn't wait forever. Their investment in clothing, in the daily salon appointments, the living accommodations . . . . Eventually they'd want her to fulfill her membership contract.
"I'll be better able to judge that each time we meet," Dr. Zeman said. "Meredith—my administrative assistant—has been in touch with your advisor to schedule weekly appointments."
Again she nodded. All those empty blocks of time were slowly being filled. She chanced a wary glance at him. He knew she had a blue icon in her account, and he knew she was an R-link, so he very likely knew it wasn't supposed to be there. "May I ask you a question?"
"Certainly."
"I . . . uh . . . don't know too much about color links, b
ut it's my understanding a blue icon shouldn't have found its way into the account of an R-link."
A new smile spread across his face. "I wondered if you'd ask about that."
She waited, deciding that his smile could be deceptive. Finally, she said, "Do you know how it got there?"
"Yes, I do." He nodded. "But I'm going to let Simon explain that to you." Then he stood up, indicating their session was at an end.
Nina scrambled to her feet. So he knew all along it was Simon. She'd suspected, but it was surprising to have it confirmed. Was there anyone Simon hadn't told?
CHAPTER 15
"We have seventeen women with no sexual experience employed at RUSH," Simon reported Thursday morning, and felt quiet satisfaction with the announcement. His blue link wasn't such a curiosity after all.
A week had passed since he and Ethan had turned their last meeting into a sideshow. Today, however, his ego wasn't on the line. Nor was there any reason to expect a violent interruption from an overprotective brother or anyone else. All evidence of the bruise beneath Ethan's eye had disappeared and his green link with Denny Cooper appeared to be running smoothly once again. Her brother had accepted his sixty-day probationary period with a curt if silent nod, and things were back to normal. RUSH was on track again. No surprises, no unpleasant visits from Orlando's finest . . . . Even the protesters outside the main gate had diminished in number, though that could fluctuate on any given day.
Equally satisfying was the fact that Nina hadn't declined the blue icon in her account. Five days had passed since she'd moved into the R-link complex and God only knew why she hadn't declined it. True, she hadn't accepted it either. But he hoped to remedy that in the near future. He had a plan. Nothing elaborate, but it was a positive step and his instincts told him he'd gotten it right. Either way, he'd know by the end of the day.
