After ten minutes of pondering and self-doubt, I was about to revert to the navy gym-slip when Carol marched straight in.
"I'm sorry, love," she sighed, flinging her arms around me. "I didn't mean to bite your head off just now, but we often find ourselves pushed to the limit. I'm an unreasonable beast at times, so my friends tell me. But I'm glad you're still here - I've got four more assignments to allocate, and this time I'm giving you first choice. Do you fancy becoming a fairy, a nurse, a corpse or a classic maiden in distress?"
I pictured a fairy's outfit as being even more revealing than the cheerleader's. A nurse might be expected to blanket-bath someone like Arnold, and since I didn't particularly relish the prospect of faking death, I opted for the classic maiden, hoping I wouldn't be asked to endure too much distress.
I felt quite like a film-star as Carol helped me into my full-length mediæval costume which included tightly-laced stays and a tall conical hat. Then she escorted me to the top of the stone tower overlooking the arena, from where I had to peer down anxiously out of a narrow window and listen to an elderly Romeo serenading me from ground level. He never got as far as actually climbing up to rescue me. My presence alone seemed to satisfy him.
Meanwhile I had a fine opportunity to reflect on my whereabouts and study the many so-called entertainments going on below.
I stared in awe at Dawn in her shiny blue catsuit, sitting beside Arnold and tenderly stroking his head as if comforting a bereaved friend. She showed such sincerity, I couldn't help but admire the professional way she threw herself into every role, regardless of personal discomfort.
I studied Doris with her traffic warden's notebook, still making some poor sap wilt under the gruelling onslaught of her tongue. I watched a couple of jousting knights, their concentration seriously impaired by a group of highly proficient cheerleaders who performed slickly rehearsed jumps and pyramids before a crowd of open-mouthed onlookers.
Equally lost in their own fantasies were a band of traditionally dressed pirates, looking more like escapees from an amateur operatic society, earnestly chasing crinolined maidens in and out among the other activities with scant regard for anyone else's domain.
Less attractive sights included a blind-folded client in Spartan straps and barbaric leg-irons, chained to a revolving frame and being horse-whipped by a pair of frenzied Amazonian maidens, all in the name of self-gratification. I was equally concerned for the well-being of another individual, padlocked into a sack and apparently about to burst a blood-vessel in his desperation to break free as a partially-clad girl repeatedly called his name and cried out for urgent sexual favours.
Superficially, it was all utterly bizarre, yet on each client's face I saw expressions ranging from eager anticipation to apoplectic ecstasy. If they were all so thoroughly delighted, I thought, where was the harm? It seemed I could have appeared after all in my bra and pants, and joined in the merriment without attracting the slightest attention - such was the air of reckless abandon that pervaded the entire complex. A fun place indeed, if you happened to like that sort of thing.
For a fleeting instant I noticed another strange figure in a green dress, probably the same one I'd tried on for Allen. Dawn had remarked how well it suited me, but on the willowy man who now pranced around in it, the outfit looked strangely repulsive - enough to put a girl off green gingham for life.
Meanwhile below me stood my man in doublet and hose, still beseeching me to be patient and ever-faithful, filling the air with his ardent promises of rescue before sundown - and I didn't even know his name. The one client I longed to see was Allen, but unless he'd elected to dress as an armoured knight or hide inside a sack, he clearly wasn't there.
Soon we were asked to bring our various activities to a halt and prepare for tea. I descended from my tower and formally shook hands with my devoted Romeo who rewarded me with a plate of buttered scones.
I don't know if he was disappointed or just shy, but my man had little to say for himself, and I found it hard to stop yawning. Politely turning away, I used the opportunity to scan the crowds in the forlorn hope of seeing Allen.
Thankfully my boredom was soon relieved by the announcement of another major event. Immediately, a team of maintenance women came swarming in. Tables were pushed hurriedly to one side, the lights were dimmed to almost total darkness, and soft romantic music filled the lofty cavern.
"And now," intoned a syrupy theatrical voice, "as the sun goes down on this balmy Saturday evening, we welcome everyone to another unique event in the world of Intimate Breaks, acclaimed by many as the darkened highlight of our weekend. As always you will retain your identity tags, but whatever else you may be wearing we ask you please to take it off, and leave everything on the tables near the ornamental aquarium. When each of us has stripped to become Adam or Eve, let us then seek out a favourite partner and enjoy several hours of uninhibited dancing and loving conversation."
The rest of his announcement was swamped by an outburst of nervous laughter and loud voices - some raised in protest, many in delight, all expressing varying degrees of concern, embarrassment or apprehension.
"Many of you," said the announcer, "are bound to feel shy at first, and you may feel tempted to use those much-despised veto cards. But remember, this is your opportunity for self-discovery, so allow this unique place to be transformed this evening into the Garden of Eden. Let Adam embrace Eve. Don't be alarmed, we have no serpents here, though in the corner by the orange light we do provide an abundance of apples which come in two forms - the original shape crafted by Nature, and Man's wicked alternative, the sensuous amber beverage known as cider."
I hurried over for a couple of ciders straight away. It's not a drink I normally care for; it's far too acid for my liking, but on this occasion I felt it was just what I needed, and it proved surprisingly potent!
Suitably dulled, I began to strip everything off, and as I struggled with my mediaeval corset I couldn't help wondering about Arnold. Would he divest himself of his horrid rubber suit, or honour his pledge? Either way, my stomach turned as I thought of some poor girl in the dark, inadvertently selecting Arnold as her partner. Of course, if he kept everything on and chose to tank up with cider, well - that invited an even more bizarre avenue of speculation.
And how about Dawn? Was she panicking upstairs with no-one to set her free? Earlier I would have volunteered, but now I knew better than to offer unauthorised assistance.
To ease my concern, I thought instead of Allen, deeply disappointed that I hadn't spotted him earlier. Now it was growing too dark to see anyone's face. I was still trying to untie my wretched stays when I felt myself being helped from behind by unseen hands. I turned to express my thanks - but found myself addressing thin air.
Shedding the last of my garments I stood totally naked, by no means confident that I was doing what was required of me. I moved toward the centre of the arena where I mingled dutifully with other anonymous shapes and silhouettes. There were infallible methods of determining which sex a body belonged to, but I kept both hands defensively to myself.
Minutes went by, but not one man approached me as his partner. I began to feel slighted. Was this all a gag, an initiation ceremony? Would the lights suddenly come on, revealing me as the only naked woman on the floor, ringed by a cheering mob of drunken onlookers? I hoped not, but if that was their game, what the hell? The cider had now cocooned my brain into such warm cotton-wool, I ceased to care about anything except finding Allen.
I continued to circulate among the soft bodies, some of whom adopted futile vocal camouflage as with one unseen comedian who began an immodest commentary in the voice of Donald Duck, inducing others to test their bravado with more vulgar quips.
"Isn't anyone coming to play with my little Willie?"
"Boy, you'll be a handful by the time you're thirty."
"I've often danced cheek to cheek, dear, but never with one hand on the bottom."
During a lull in the laughter, I added my own contribution by whimpering: "There's a lost little girl here. Can anyone find her kind Uncle Allen?"
"The last I heard," said a familiar voice, "he was taking his daughter to the station," and a warm hand landed squarely on my left breast.
"Whoops!" he gasped, and the hand was quickly withdrawn again. "Sorry, I wasn't trying to grope you, but I'm blind as a bat in this gloom. Are you who I think you are?"
I perceived two kindly eyes glinting in the orange glow.
"I'm Jennifer," I said softly, "the inept cheerleader who later wore a school uniform and had lunch with an extremely kind father-figure who then chose to vanish without trace."
"Blame the system, my love, not the man. They're uncommonly fond of making us move on."
"I guess it's done for a reason," I sighed, "but I confess I've always had a strong will of my own."
"Me too! I'm glad I caught up with you again. After you left this afternoon I was paired with another girl who only wanted me to sit and admire her. I relate to people's brains, Jennifer, not their bodies. Talking to you was the highlight of my visit, and I'm not kidding. I'm going to miss you after tomorrow, and I want you to think very carefully about that."
"You're not suggesting we fight the system?" I whispered.
"Let us say I disapprove of artificial constraints, such as that shapely corset you were struggling with. Hope you appreciated my help?"
"Someone would soon have noticed if I'd kept it on," I said.
Soon we were invited to change partners, but Allen and I were of one mind and both spun full-circle, grabbing each other again before anyone else could barge in.
"See?" he said. "It's easy to bend the system - assuming this is still you. Speak to me."
"I'm sure the rules exist for our benefit," I said, not wanting my hidden listeners to think I was planning a rebellion.
"In my opinion they should take more account of clients' wishes and less of their own," Allen replied. "How much cider did you drink?"
I asked if my breath smelt of fermented apples.
"It carries the idyllic fragrance of the Garden of Eden," he said, pressing his chin squarely into my eye. "Sorry, I'm hopeless in the dark. To be honest I find this very embarrassing," he went on. "I wonder how many couples are using this as an opportunity for illicit sex?"
"Standing up?" I said, and giggled.
"How else?" he countered with a laugh. "Mind the floor doesn't get slippery,"
"Oh, don't be disgusting!" I retorted, and gave him a playful slap.
"Sorry," whispered Allen. "The remark was uncharacteristic. Blame the cider. You're a decent girl, and I respect you for that. In fact I'd say someone made a grave error in bringing you to a place like this, though I'm glad they did, because it rather brings matters to a head. Listen, if you're willing I'll make it my personal responsibility to ensure you don't become corrupted, okay? And I really do intend telling you more about why I'm here, but first we need to find a quiet corner to ourselves."
"That doesn't seem possible at the moment," I giggled. "This is worse than Selfridges in the January Sales."
"Except none of the ladies here are trying on hats," he responded, drawing me even closer to his powerful chest.
"There is a changing room upstairs," I told him, "but I believe it's only for staff, and definitely only for females. You need permission even to breathe in this place. They have very strict rules."
"True," he said, "and I guess it's time I toed the line. Follow me."
"I hope we're not going anywhere too bright," I said as Allen guided me towards the orange glow. "I'm not used to wandering around naked, especially in mixed company."
"You reckon Eve's first job in Eden was to knit herself some woolly knickers and a tank-top?"
"That depends whether God had already created sheep," I replied.
"I must remember that," laughed Allen, suddenly producing a robe from somewhere and draping it over my shoulders. "As you may have guessed, we do have other dressing rooms, and there's one just along here."
Despite my faith in Allen, I suddenly felt scared. Did I want a comparative stranger propelling me into an empty dressing room? Was I only minutes from being seduced? If I were murdered in some unfrequented recess, would anyone know or even care?
"I don't think we ought to wander off," I said, holding back. "Hadn't we better stay with the others?"
"Don't tell me you're afraid of the dark?" he laughed. "A minute ago you were scared of getting too near the light."
I wrenched my arm free. "Allen, this whole place scares me. I never imagined anything like this, not in my wildest dreams - it's too utterly bizarre for words. Between you and me and anyone else who's listening, I just want to get out of here now, and go back home, the sooner the better. Do you realise we're all virtual prisoners? I mean, suppose there was a fire? Even if people did manage to find the way out, how would they get home? Just where the hell are we?"
"Deep in the Mendip Hills," he confided. "Cheddar Caves and Wookey Hole are good examples, and there are many others, hollowed out by the interaction of water and limestone over millions of years. This particular complex was discovered years ago by someone who had plans for turning it into a private gambling den until the Home Office got wind of it. What you see today was officially opened nine months ago as a haven for anyone in the public eye who couldn't find other ways to placate his needs. A self-financing enterprise, but run under the supervision of Her Majesty's Government."
"Maybe," I whispered urgently, "but are we supposed to know things like that? Don't you realise everything you say is being overheard? They're very hot on keeping this place a closely guarded secret."
"Only from the outside world. Those who work here have every right to know what's going on."
"But I don't work here yet, and I certainly don't intend to. I've made up my mind!"
Suddenly I felt myself being grabbed by powerful arms and thrust forward into pitch darkness. Then a sudden blaze of light half-blinded me and I found myself being stared at by a dozen people, including Dawn in her rubber suit. Furiously I turned to Allen, but he was gone.
Carol stepped forward and took me firmly by the hand.
"Jennifer, come and take a seat."
I was facing what looked like an appraisal committee, reminiscent of the abortive interview at the Chiswick betting shop, with my interrogators seated as before in a straight line behind a long table, like the painting of The Last Supper. The man I recognised as Brian spoke first in a voice that sounded ominously formal.
"This is effectively the interview you've been pining for all day, Jennifer. Each applicant gets two interviews, this being the intermediate, the other coming tomorrow afternoon when you're scheduled to leave."
He handed the proceedings over to Carol, who smiled far too sweetly.
"We've all taken turns in watching you, Jennifer, and while we approve of some aspects of what you're doing, we're left with a big problem."
"I know," I said. "I talk too much."
"Indeed," she nodded with a glance to the others, "then let's address that issue first. When you meet someone you recognise - a TV star or a politician - it is imperative you do NOT appear to know who they are. Clients come here under an absolute guarantee of NOT being recognised. They dread the possibility of some junior recruit blowing their cover the moment she goes gossiping in her local supermarket. Apart from that, if we were to consider employing you, Jennifer, we'd need to be absolutely sure of three things. First, we want no more false modesty. Take a look at this."
On a small TV screen I was shown a video-recording of myself as the cheerleader spinning clumsily at Arnold's behest, and I witnessed my own hostile reaction as he lifted my skirt.
"Try to understand, Jennifer, it's the costume your man was interested in, not you nor the shape of your buttocks. Likewise, we allow no gushing admiration of well-known clients, is that understood? We all saw you openly sucking up to one man in a manner we all agree was far too patronising. We've done our best to placate him now, and he's still not happy about your behaviour. But our main concern, shared by us all, is your squeamish distaste when asked to take on difficult assignments."
As a cruel reminder, I was shown further close-ups of my face during my session with Arnold, and another damning look of revulsion as I helped Dawn into her tight costume.
"If this were a hospital," Carol went on, "and someone like Arnold came into casualty, can you imagine the outcry if none of the nurses were willing to remove his rubber suit? I'm afraid it's an aspect of our dealings that everyone here has to get used to. Nurses learn to cope, so must we. Dawn could tell you. She's probably our most abused hostess, yet she always comes up smiling. How was today, Dawn?"
"Diabolical," said Dawn, "and it's not over yet. It helps to remember we get paid for this."
"Indeed, which is another point to bear in mind, Jennifer. Staff here are amply rewarded, but our paymasters expect value for money. That means putting twice the effort into all your assignments. Any questions?"
I stood up. "Just one. Have I blown my chances of getting a job? Because if so, I'd like to be dismissed at once and sent home, if you don't mind."
Carol sighed impatiently. "I may as well tell you, Jennifer, only three of us here are currently in favour of letting you continue. I think I've summarized the essence of our objections. Brian?"
Brian cleared his throat. "Transportation tonight is out of the question. In my view she should stay at least until Sunday evening. After all, Jennifer, this is only your intermediate appraisal where we try to steer you in the right direction before making tomorrow's final decision."
"If I stay," I said, "will I be given a room of my own tonight?"
He frowned. "And why would you want that?"
"Well, surely we're entitled to some privacy. This isn't the army."
Everyone laughed except Brian. "Jennifer, we treat all our girls as part of a family, but clients must come first. We can't provide individual cubicles for everyone, especially uncooperative trainees. In fact only six of us here have private rooms, a privilege we've all had to earn, one way or another. However, just for tonight, you will be given a bed to yourself and we'll gladly surround it with screens if you feel your privacy is so important. I'm sure Dawn won't mind occupying a mattress on her floor. Any further questions or comments you'd like to make?"
I had plenty, but I kept them to myself. It was clear from Dawn's face she hadn't been forewarned about her latest sacrifice.
"I'm sorry if you think we're giving you a hard time," said Carol, "but sadly, you haven't done as well as we were led to believe. In fact, the whole business of your selection is a matter of some concern which we're currently looking into. Meanwhile, I understand one of our administrators wants a personal chat with you which he has asked to hold in private. Not our normal policy at all, and personally I disapprove. However," she sighed, "in view of his seniority, it's a concession the directors feel obliged to grant on this occasion."
Following Carol's gaze, I turned to see Allen standing in the doorway, smiling. "Come on, sweetheart, let's find that quiet corner."
I followed him in silent fury until we came to a well-furnished suite. Then I let rip.
"You swine!" I yelled. "You underhand, conniving creep, leading me on with that soft-soap when all the time you're part of their slimy assessment team. I told you I wanted fresh air. Well, believe me, Allen, there's nothing more important to me right now than getting out of this dung-heap and never hearing from you or any of your mates ever again."
Allen remained calm. "Jennifer, my dear, you're over-reacting."
"You think so? Do you know something, Allen? I really liked you. I stood on some stupid tower this afternoon, longing to catch a glimpse of you, just to satisfy myself they hadn't locked you away. I was actually worried for your safety. I thought you might be in trouble for being honest with me. I actually cared about you. What a fool!"
"Have you finished?"
"Not by a long way. This whole sick business has turned me from being a nice ordinary girl into feeling like a cheap harlot, and do you know something? I bloody well resent it. I didn't ask to come to this hell-hole. I was duped into thinking I might be offered a job, the sort of job I could take a pride in. But instead I get thrown in with a bunch of weirdos who ought to be hurled off the top of the nearest skyscraper."
"Finished now?" he asked, his voice unerringly sympathetic.
"No. I hate you, you hear me, with your sneaky cameras and hidden bugs? Do you think I don't know what's going on? Does everyone hear me? I hate this place, I hate the people who run it, and most of all I hate deceitful men who worm their way into a girl's affections, then kick her in the teeth when she's dumb enough to admit she actually likes a guy. So sod you, Allen, and sod the whole bunch of bloody hypocrites who work here!"
"Finished?"
This time I was finished, well and truly. I collapsed over the side of an armchair and wept bitterly. Allen came and knelt beside me, taking my hand and caressing it gently with his thumb.
"Jennifer, love, of course I'm sorry for many, many things. First I'm sorry to have upset you. I'm sorry if I had to mislead you for a while, and I'm most desperately sorry for bringing all this about. But I make it my business always to be honest. Once you lie to a person, it's not easy to stop - which is why I never actually lied to you. Jennifer, for better or worse, I've been appointed one of the governors of this place, but this honestly is the first time I've been a visitor here, and I would have left hours ago if it weren't for you. I came today ostensibly to meet a few clients, and to mingle - hoping to pick up suggestions and feedback to ensure that we make the best use of this facility. Dammit, it's supposed to be my job. And despite your views, I believe this place plays an important role in our country's affairs. I'm sure someone must have explained that. Whether or not you approve, the male sex-urge is an adult reality. Men can't stop wanting women and sexual titillation, Jennifer - it's the way we're made, even me. But truthfully, the real reason I finally came here is that I learned last night you'd be coming too. Listen. I first saw you weeks ago, and I can only be honest and say you had a powerful effect on me. You impressed me, not by having a big bust or sexy legs, but by being a good, kind, level-headed girl, going about a difficult and unrewarding job with a true caring spirit. Some women get offended if you tell them how effectively they arouse a man's desires, but believe me, Jennifer ... well, that's why I brought you upstairs when I did. I wanted to be honest with you from the start, my love, but I felt I could serve your best interests by following a few of the rules. So don't despise me, please. It'd be such a waste of a good friendship if you did that, and so unjust."
I knew that if Allen was ever to see it from my point of view, I had to control my anger.
"I don't despise you," I said, "but I do despise deceit and underhand dealings. I know men can't help being attracted to women - otherwise we'd none of us be here at all. But such feelings are private, Allen. They should be kept under proper control, not flaunted in the way they are downstairs."
"Fine noble sentiments, when spoken from an ivory tower. But not all men are the same. Try telling an Olympic ski-jumper he's got to stop half way down an icy slope. If he protests he can't, do you want him punished for yielding to the laws of gravity? For some men, their bodies simply take over from their brains, and there's not a lot we can do about it short of castration. This place is a rescuing helicopter, if you like, plucking them safely off the ski-slope before they do any lasting damage to themselves or to anyone else. What's wrong with that?"
"Nothing," I said, so embittered and confused I was practically lost for words. "I suppose if the whole bloody world's falling apart, someone ought to try and patch up the holes."
"Good. We patch up holes, Jennifer, for the sake of our country's economy. Our politicians must be seen to be capable of carrying out the job we ask them to do. Anything which might tarnish that image has to be nipped in the bud. Surely Charles explained this when he first called?"
"Charles?"
"Your initial contact."
"I understood his name was Bernard."
"Maybe it is, but I've always known him as Charles. And what about Cindy? You have met Cindy?"
"Dawn, Cindy, Charles, Bernard, Allen," I said. "Everyone seems to be climbing their way up the alphabet, changing their names like other people change socks."
"Well spotted. But let's just establish where we both stand, okay? First, all men need a sexual outlet, though sadly not all men find the ideal partner to provide it. Next the media, especially tabloid newspapers, keep poking around, prying for tawdry gossip to enhance their tawdry readership, and in doing so jeopardise the international credibility of Britain. This place exists to provide a haven for the wayward needs of men who personify the industrial and political fabric of our society. Any problem so far?"
I shook my head.
"So, Jennifer, my dear friend, allow this place to exist, please, even if you have no need of it yourself, and don't condemn those who try to make it work. Is this all sinking in, my love? Because if so, I have to broach another matter. Like everyone else I have needs of my own - personal needs which have no connection with Intimate Breaks, beyond the fact that I'm one of its administrators. The truth is, Jennifer, through no fault of my own I'm a forty-year-old widower who's sick to death of being lonely."
The man was being totally open, yet I flared up again.
"So that's your game? I see! The heart-rending plea that you're lonely, no doubt with two sad little girls sitting at home, pining for a new Mummy. Look, Allen, I've been through hell in the past few weeks, but I've come out of it with one redeeming quality. I'm no longer dumb enough to take anything anyone says at face value. Gone are the days when Jennifer Bewley would open her front door to a homeless tramp. He'd get no sympathy today if he came crawling to my house with ten starving children. You say you never lie to anyone? I know that game too, in fact I play it very well. So how's this for the truth? I don't believe you. I don't believe anyone in this place. I don't even know if I want to go on living if this is what the world has sunk to. Why the hell can't I get myself a nice simple job as a waitress in some friendly village tea-shop?"
"Jennifer, my love, if that's what you want, I'll buy you a tea-shop, but I'm asking you now to widen your horizons and open your eyes. I'm sorry I didn't make bells ring downstairs - but the truth is simple. I got carried away with my own sincerity and I muffed it."
"You? You're incapable of muffing anything. If you can help run a place like this, with all those important heads of industry, you can't be a total fool, and I don't see why you can't win the trust of someone who once felt she really liked you."
"I'll certainly keep trying, my love, if you'll help by telling me where I went wrong."
"Oh, I don't know. Allen, I'm so confused. My head's bursting with all that cider, and I can't think straight. I just know everything's falling apart and I'm desperately unhappy."
"My poor darling," he whispered, taking me in his arms. "If it helps, I've been there too. Look at me. A man who never lies wants you to know he's at fault for bringing you to such an awful place. It's one of the few times in my life I've made a serious tactical blunder, and I can only excuse myself by saying things wouldn't have gone this far if I'd kept a closer eye on what was happening. It wasn't meant to be like this, Jennifer, and I deeply regret what's happened. I guess in your shoes I'd be feeling just as angry."
Allen may have said a whole lot more, but I don't remember anything until I woke to find myself lying on a comfortable bed, with Dawn kneeling beside me.
"Are you okay?" she asked.
"Not really," I croaked. "Where am I?"
"Allen brought you here and I put you to bed. This is my cubicle. Not much of a place, but I call it home."
I asked what the time was.
"Time doesn't count for much here," she said. "It comes in two slices - free time or duty, and right now we're still in free time with about six hours to spare. My man finally fell asleep on me, so I crept away. I know you prefer to sleep alone, or I'd have climbed in there with you."
I opened my eyes and saw beads of sweat on Dawn's face. She was still wearing that awful suit.
"I was rather hoping you'd lend a hand," she said earnestly. "If not, I'll just have to keep the damned thing on till morning."
"Can't anyone else help?"
"They nominated you. Another test. Something you're expected to cope with if you stay."
"No-one's impressed by what I've done so far."
"I wouldn't say that," she grinned. "You certainly scored a hit with Allen."
I sat up and felt sick. "Yes. Exactly who is Allen?"
"A new administrator. We often get one or two hovering at weekends. You've may have noticed we have five grades of staff here. As Dawn, I'm grade D, one of the helpers and hostesses. Carol's in grade C - they're tutors or members of the recruitment staff. If you're given a name like Brian, then you're one of the directors."
"So what about Arnold? Does that mean he's a top administrator?"
"Most certainly. A founder member, very hot on self-interest. I'm told he actually helped design the place. That's why we all do our best for him - it usually pays off. Allen hasn't been here before, but he's entitled to our services, same as anyone else. He seemed quite impressed until you screwed everything up."
"That's me all over," I sighed. "God, I feel awful. Whatever did they put in that cider?"
"Apples. Come on, you'll feel better after a shower. I need a shower too to get this wretched thing off. Water makes it much easier, but it's still a four-handed job."
I looked around the tiny cubicle. "Where can I find my own clothes?"
"Yours? No idea, but you'll find plenty of costumes just along the corridor. They all get returned to the wardrobe by unseen hands. And don't let Carol scare you. Out of hours you're free to borrow whatever you like."
I asked how many people worked there altogether.
"It varies, depending how many clients are booked in. Anything up to forty, nearly all female. It's the natural order of things. Men's passions are more insatiable than ours, though at times you wouldn't think so. We occasionally hold hen-nights, and the goings-on there would blow your mind. Do you want to try this thing on before I ditch it?"
"No, thank you!"
"Just thought I'd ask. How about the leather item I wore earlier, the one with the spikes?"
"I'd feel like a dog," I laughed. "I prefer conventional costumes - school uniforms, Greek goddesses - that sort of thing."
"Well, a girl can always change her mind. But come and help me in the shower. It could be your turn one day, so best be prepared."
I said I doubted it since I obviously wasn't right for the place, and I reaffirmed my view that I should stick to being a waitress.
"Fine!" she suggested eagerly. "Be a waitress at tomorrow's brunch. There's a continual demand for coffee and refreshments. You'll earn plenty in tips too, if you're prepared to dress up."
I said I'd think about it.
Dawn ran the shower and we stepped into it together. She allowed streams of warm water to run down inside her suit, and then we both tugged at the collar, slowly drawing it down over her shoulders till it snapped into place around her middle. Once her arms were free, Dawn passed me a fresh towel and insisted she could manage the rest on her own.
She emerged in a bath-robe several minutes later, and flung the wet suit into a corner where it landed with a squelch.
"I bet you're glad to be out of that," I commented needlessly.
"Actually, some girls love it," she said, shaking her wet hair like a dog. "I guess you'll never understand. Go on, take the bed. I'm so whacked I could fall asleep on a ironing board."
Confused though I was, I felt the need to carry on talking with someone I'd come to regard as a friend. I asked Dawn how long she'd worked there.
"Since it opened. Seems like years."
"And you really don't mind wearing all that stuff? What on earth must it feel like, sealed into thick rubber all day long?"
"Like you'd imagine," she said. "When you first put rubber on, it's a bit like climbing into a giant condom, all cold and unfriendly. After an hour, it becomes hot and itchy and gets more and more unpleasant as the day wears on. As for having to sleep in it - and we do get asked, believe me - you wake up longing to peel everything off till you remember you gave a promise not to. So with only a face to wash, you go back to your man feeling dirty and humiliated. Some of the girls imagine it's all a doddle, but they soon change their minds once they're coaxed into trying it for themselves. So, don't say I didn't warn you."
Coaxed? This prompted a question I was almost too scared to ask.
"Tell me honestly, what's the worst a girl can expect here?"
"Being ignored," she said pleasantly. "As long as you're with a client, pampering his desires, you'll find life interesting. Even if you feel wretchedly uncomfortable yourself, you can always milk your man for sympathy. There's one regular client who likes his victim to be without any hands. She has to sit there totally helpless while he feeds her, wipes her nose and attends to all her needs. He really is incredibly kind."
"But that's utterly sick!" I said. "Whoever volunteers for such an assignment?"
"Could be you, me - whoever they decide. But it's okay. You simply allow both arms to be folded up, with your wrists securely taped to your shoulders. Once you're all strapped in you'll soon find everything goes completely numb, you become genuinely helpless till your man says he's had enough. But he'll take good care of you, and when life feels hellish, make sure you tell him so. There's no pretence here. When a man knows you truly are suffering he'll embalm you in overwhelming sympathy and compassion, and it's very real. Surrender your discomfort and you'll get quite a kick out of it. When everything finally becomes unbearable, that's when you break down and cry for mercy."
"Then what happens?"
"He'll probably have an orgasm. Sorry, sweetheart, it's the name of the game. No good fighting it, so take it on board and make the most of your man's generosity. Think of that five hundred pound bonus coming your way. Did anyone mention what we call the Moment of Surrender?"
I shook my head.
"Picture an eagle perched high on a rocky pinnacle, suddenly launching out into the void beneath. When things get too irksome, remember the eagle and allow yourself to glide headlong onto that cushion of pity. Men adore comforting girls in distress. At least you'll feel someone loves you, even if the management does insist on giving you a hard time."
"Did they give you a hard time when you first joined?"
"To be honest, I gave myself a hard time. So will you if you're not careful. But learn to suffer your discomforts nobly and share all your feelings with your man. He's not here to give you a hard time, but to help you through hardships imposed by others. What they all crave downstairs is detailed feedback, minute by minute as t how you feel, so don't be afraid to express those feelings. And don't worry. If they stick you in rubber for a whole week, remember you ain't the first and you won't be the last."
I shuddered and asked Dawn if she had any more pleasant ideas for my dreams. But her only response was to turn off the light.
"I don't need an answer to this, Dawn," I said finally as I closed my eyes, "but I'd like to believe you were one of three who stood up for me today."
"Yes," she replied carefully, "I can imagine you would. Good night!"
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