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“This is the Emperor’s Room,” Matilda said.
“So this is where the training happens?”
“Some of it, yes. You ready?”
I nodded, took a deep breath and gave her my most confident smile. I was about to watch Mark
Drury’s first training session with Angela Rejean. He’d passed all the tests, submitted to two prior
sessions and aced his interviews. Now, before engaging in a fantasy with Dauphine, he had to pass
final muster with Angela.
“It can be emotional to watch former lovers, Cassie. It takes fortitude.”
“I’m fine,” I said, as much for myself as for her. “He’s for S.E.C.R.E.T., for Dauphine. Not for me.”
“Good.”
“Does he know I’m watching?”
“No. He knows someone from S.E.C.R.E.T. is watching, but we never say who. He was quite
excited.”
“Does Angela know she’s being watched?”
She gave me a wry smile.
“Cassie, honey, this is her thing. All right then. Enjoy yourself. But study carefully too. We have to
evaluate him—look for ways he can improve, to enliven a woman’s fantasy experience. He has to
find pleasure in pleasing. And he needs to learn how to make a woman feel completely desired,
which is, without a doubt, the greatest aphrodisiac. I’ll funnel any advice to him. Patience keeps
coming up as an issue for him. Good luck,” she said with a smile, adding, “you’ve come a long way,
Cassie. Call me later. I’ll let you know how it goes with Dauphine.”
“Thank you. Truly. For everything,” I said. “And I hope Dauphine stays. There’s still just so much.”
“I’ll tell her just that.”
She shut off the light and left, closing the door behind her. I was alone in my little dark room,
unsure of what to do. I crossed and uncrossed my legs, waiting for the session to begin on the other
side of the one-way glass.
A few moments later, Angela emerged from an ivory door flush with the wall in the Emperor’s
Room. Her normally straightened hair was arranged in a relaxed, sassy Afro, and she was wearing a
white, wraparound dress, cut low, the material thin, almost translucent, her dark nipples alert. She
wore six-inch pumps that set off her brown muscled calves to perfection. She ignored the glass,
which would look like a mirror on her side of the room. She walked over to the marble mantel of the
fireplace and leaned on it provocatively. There was a lot you could envy about Angela, but her calm,
cool demeanor was at the top of my list just then.
From a door to the left, off the same hallway I had just navigated with Matilda, Mark slowly
emerged, wearing a grin that only grew bigger when he took in his next “trainer.” He looked so cute
and clean in his chambray shirt tucked into baggy cords, his hair damp. I could almost smell his green
apple shampoo.
“Holy mother of mercy,” he muttered, at which point I realized I’d not only be seeing everything,
but hearing everything through speakers.
“Okay, first thing: don’t smile at me so much,” Angela said to him. “You want our girl to feel
you’re happy to see her, but enthuse less, smolder more.”
“Got it,” he said, literally wiping the smile off his face with a sweep of his hand.
I laughed. I mean, it was funny—he was funny. But Angela was not amused.
“Take a seat.”