Page 25

The sensation of living a weird fantasy returns. I quickly polish off the burger and fries. If I’m about to wake up from a hallucination, I’d much rather do it having enjoyed the best meal I’ve had in my life.
I look up from an empty plate to see Fionnella going over her notes. “That’s about it from me. I’ll go and have a word with the boss as to when to start your grooming and exercise regime while you talk to Dr. Allen.”
She escorts me to Dr. Allen’s side of the room and leaves.
The doctor waves me to a chair. “Sit down. I’ll try not to keep you too long,” she says briskly.
I get the feeling she’s trying to be as professional as possible without letting her true feelings show. On the sliding scale of friendliness, I put her third after Fionnella and Todd. Except I’m yet to experience the camera guy so maybe I should reserve judgment—
“Fionnella went through a few sexual questions with you, but mine will probe deeper.” No apologies. No niceties. Just straight to the point.
The whole operation is smooth enough to make me wonder how often the man with the mechanical voice organizes one-million-dollar sex gigs.
I don’t care. The money is all I’m after. Selling my body to buy my life is an exchange I can live with.
“Have you ever had an STD or suspect you might have one now?”
I jerk back to myself and shake my head. “No. Never.” Use of condoms was a number one rule at The Villa. One of the very few things Clayton got right. Although I suspect buying rubber was cheaper than forking out for medical bills, or worse, having a prized girl off work.
“Do you suspect you might be pregnant?”
“No.”
“You have to go on birth control. The boss prefers Depo-Provera. It’s quick. It’s non-invasive—you get a shot in your arm, and the side-effects are minimal.” She passes me a leaflet on birth control. “Read up tonight. You get the shot tomorrow unless there are reasons you can’t get it.”
I stuff the leaflet in my pocket.
“Do you bruise easily?”
My heart lurches and my precious burger and fries threaten to regurgitate. “Why would you ask me that?”
Dr. Allen doesn’t blink. “The camera will pick up blemishes, even with makeup. I need to know whether to provide you with a fast healing cream should you be bruised.”
A perfectly reasonable explanation. In a very fucked-up world. “I guess I’m normal on the bruise scale.”
She makes a note. The rest of her questions are as mundane as a thorough scrutiny of my sexual history can be. When she asks me to, I undress and hop onto a bed behind the screen for an internal examination.
Fionnella returns after my blood has been drawn and we leave Dr. Allen’s area to return to hers. She hands me a brand new phone. It’s sleek and expensive looking.
“The boss wants you to keep this on at all times.” Her gaze catches and holds mine. “It’s untraceable and it’s got my number programmed in there. From now on, you call me when you have work specific questions.”
I look down at the phone. “Does that mean I won’t be talking to the…boss again until…”
“Yes.”
Something inside me tightens a touch. “And when will that be?”
“Depending on how your diet and exercise go, a week to ten days.”
The knot tightens harder. I mentally frown at it. “Right. Okay.”
“I need to know your work schedule, then you’re free to go.”
I tell her and she frowns. “I was told your time would be more flexible than this. We have a lot of ground to cover.”
In the grand scheme of my fucked up existence, I choose not to take offense. “I have to work.” I don’t elaborate.
She meets my gaze again and nods after a minute. “Okay.” She does the let-me-escort-you-out gesture.