This story was originally meant to be fairly short. But like a lot of stuff it 'grew arms and legs' and changed as it went along. Some people might find it 'slow' to start with, but I think it is worth sticking with. I wanted to make the characters a bit more 3 dimensional than in most stories. I was also setting things up for more chapters (if I find the time and motivation)
Suggestions of what should happen to Sara in future are more than welcome.
*****
Sara sat in the meeting room of Fantoch Technology, feeling a little overwhelmed. A lot of money had obviously been spent on the interior design - Swedish Minimalism taken to the extreme. (Which meant fifty shades of white - and uncomfortable chairs.) The room had windows facing the street but the internal windows onto the corridor were opaque. One the table was stylishly modern phone and a box of tissues. She couldn't help wondering if people did a lot of crying during meetings held here. Sara looked at the Fantoch representative across the table and found herself trying to recall his name - Daryl? Darren? He seemed to have been planned in the same design studio as the furniture, all angles and planes. Everything about him, suit, haircut, cologne; whispered that money had been spent. He appeared to be in his early thirties, black hair swept back from his forehead and dark brown eyes that seemed to skewer her whenever he looked at her -- which was often. Initially she blushed when he looked at her, feeling, somehow, that he could see her thoughts revealed in her face.
So she had been more than a little distracted by his attractiveness as they had chatted for the last hour about the 'position' she was applying for. That's what he'd called it, and she appreciated the euphemism. She tried to continue the pretence that this was an ordinary job interview. In order to support that fiction she'd worn her best outfit, smart, knee length, woollen skirt and demure blouse. Her best shoes with heels higher than she'd normally risk as well as more make-up than usual; eye liner, mascara and pink lipstick. As well as taking more time than usual to style her shoulder length blonde hair, she'd shaved everywhere and busted out of storage her favourite Victoria's Secret underwear -- her bra even matched her panties! Not that anyone else would know, but it gave her a little extra confidence that she definitely needed, considering what she was potentially letting herself in for.
Then Daryl/Darren brought her back from her reverie to reality.
'Well Sara, if you have no more questions, I'd like to recap what we've discussed before I get you to "OK the paper work"'. Sara could practically hear the quotation marks in his voice. She knew enough about sales to realise that he was trying to avoid scaring her off by saying "sign the contract". He needn't have bothered. She had decided to sign days ago, when she'd checked her bank balance for the umpteenth time. She REALLY needed the money that was on offer.
'What we are proposing', Daryl/Darren continued, 'is that Fantoch will employ you for two weeks. We will then place you with one of our clients from a select and pre-approved list. I explained previously how rigorous our vetting procedures are and you told me,' he looked down at her application form, 'that you were "more than satisfied", is that correct?'
Sara's mouth was suddenly dry, so she found herself only able to nod, aware that they were getting down to brass tacks. The salesman looked at Sara and smiled, perfect white teeth revealed. She blushed again, feeling foolish.
'Now, Sara, I need to confirm that you understand your employment will require you to provide sexual services of an...unusual kind. That you consent willingly to that aspect of your contract?'
Throughout the meeting Sara had been impressed with how matter of fact this man had been about the potentially touchy subject they were discussing, that she was agreeing, basically, to be a prostitute - if only for a brief time. A very specialised sort of prostitute. Needing to speak directly to him she was suddenly embarrassed that she couldn't remember his name.
'I'm sorry', she blushed. 'Is it...Darren?'
'Dane.' He smiled again, no sign of embarrassment on his part.
'Dane, sorry. I understand the nature of the...the position we are discussing. I consent to...what is required,' she finished in a rush. Sara recalled that right at the start, Dane had told her that their interview was being recorded and realised at that moment the exact reason why. So she added, 'Is that enough? Is that what you need to hear?'
Dane nodded encouragingly. 'Yes Sara, that should be sufficient.' Then he carried on. 'The next consent required is possibly the most important part. It is the thing that makes Fantoch unique. It is our unique selling point, the difference that allows us to remunerate our employees so...lavishly.'
Sara smiled at that word. The amounts discussed with Dane would allow her to pay off her college debts and get her car fixed - all for two weeks work! Although the nature of that 'work' still made her feel more than anxious, despite her determination to sign up.
'What I need you to consent to Sara is, that during your employment, Fantoch Inc will be permitted to control aspects of your personality and memory - via our proprietary technology. What this means for you is simple. The control apparatus is an item of jewellery that you will wear throughout your contract term.'
Dane paused for a second. This was where he had to be so very, very careful. This was why he was paid so much, for his ability to walk the tightrope between revealing enough to keep the company lawyers satisfied -- and not scaring off the applicant.
'It will permit our client to exert the control that we discussed,' he finished.
Sara took a deep breath. Here was the crux of the matter for her. This was the get-out clause that was going to make what she was doing bearable for her, the justification for overcoming her moral qualms. It was what had drawn her to Fantoch in the first place. She wasn't going to be an ordinary whore, she was going to be a 'Fantoch girl'.
'This is the...the thing that means I won't remember what I've..I've done, right? she stammered.
Dane laughed, politely, relaxing at the sound of desperation in her voice. He could tell that there was only one aspect of the control device that the girl was interested in. 'That's partially right Sara. You'll know
in general
what you've done. Otherwise it might be tricky, legally, to prove consent if you didn't recall that you worked for us for two weeks. But I can tell you that you won't recall any
specifics
. Does that reassure you?'
Sara smiled weakly and nodded. That was enough to overcome any lingering doubts she had. She might be whoring herself, in a sense, but not knowing what she had done afterwards would somehow make it acceptable to her conscience.
'So Sara, with that cleared up, can I ask you again - do you consent that, during your employment, Fantoch Inc will be permitted to control aspects of your personality and memory via our proprietary technology?'
