Before she raised her hand to knock on the solid oak door that led into the house, Jane again took a deep breath. She thought she had things under control now. A tingling sensation ran through her body from head to foot. Her scalp tinkled. Her eyes were sharply focused. All of her senses were on the alert. The aroused nipples of her breasts, brushing against the restraint of her bra, felt alive. She was excited alright. But Jane put her excitement to the fact that she was so close to finally getting to the heart of this difficult story. She often felt this electricity, this arousal when she was nearing the nexus of a story.
Her body straight, her shoulders back, Jane prepared to knock on the door when, suddenly, it swung open.
It was Roger Fanderpeice. He had opened the door before she had even knocked. Six three, cleft chin, curly black hair, intelligent blue eyes. Wickedly Handsome! Buff. Wealthy beyond most people's dreams. The very sexy man of mystery.
"Ms. Bederson, Jane Bederson, I presume," he said.
The question she had prepared herself to ask him flew from her mind. Instead of throwing the question, Jane threw out her arm, extending it to shake his hand.
As advertised, Roger Fanderpeice not only looked good, but also exuded sex. She would have to ask that professor at Harvard whether it could have been pheromons. Whatever, he was the sexiest man she had ever met.
"Yes, I'm Jane Bederson. And I'm glad to meet you Mr. Fanderpeice." He knew who she was. Well, she knew who he was. Jane hoped that made things even. She felt her body warm as Fanderpeice took her extended hand into his and shook it. His touch was electric, though Jane thought she had pretty well covered up any sign of the effect his touch had had on her.
"Yes, please come in, and please call me Roger from now on," he said.
Jane heard the door shut and then lock behind her as she followed Fanderpeice into the house.
Jane thought of herself as one tough babe, a woman at the top of her profession, a fearless writer of exposes, not afraid of anything or anyone.....except of herself, except of her own desires, those deep needs that she constantly fought to keep from distracting her from whatever matter was at hand. This place was certainly making it hard to keep her mind on the story and free of sex (as if those were two separate and distinct things). But Jane was determined.
She walked a little ways into an anteroom. She noticed the carvings on the woodwork along the wall. They were apparently copied from the Kama Sutra but in modern dress (or undress, rather). She stared at one section of carvings. It was a section in which each block, each scene was related, scenes that, as Jane read them in sequence, moved as they would in a movie, a couple moving slowly from one position to the next, the expressions on their faces were of shared ecstasy. There were pictures framed above the carvings, beautifully drawn pictures of the most obscene actions, threesomes, foursomes, gangbangs, all sort of activities she knew she would have fun trying to find metaphors for so that she might be able to describe them in even an R rated publication.
She smiled to herself. This was a hell of a presentation. The pictures certainly were something. They were obviously artistic, and Jane tried to look at them like that----as if she was in a museum and they were merely art. But that was hard to do. Her loins were warming. She could feel her breathing deepen. If the anteroom was meant to put visitors to Xanadu in a sexual frame of mind, it was doing its job.
Jane shook her head, she had to get her focus off her cunt, she had to get it onto the story. But... suddenly, Fanderpeice was standing right behind her.
"Interesting pictures aren't they?" he said, his voice almost a whisper. He continued, "You know, they were all painted by one of our member artists." Fanderpeice leaned closer to Jane.
He pointed at one of the paintings. It showed a woman on her knees, bent at the waist, her hands flat on the floor, one man lying underneath her, his prick in her cunt. Another man was behind her, his long rod thrust into her anus. In front of her stood another man, his weapon fully into her swollen mouth. Around the quartet, stood several men and a couple of women, all naked, fondling themselves and each other, aroused, waiting their chance to join in the debauchery. The painting was at once coldly realistic and strangely erotic, warm, vivid and beautiful.
"Is that who I think it is?" Jane asked. The woman on all fours, being filled with sex surely looked like one of Hollywood's biggest stars, the winner of a pair of Oscars,
one for best supporting actress, the second for leading actress. Jane had interviewed her several years ago----before the actress had become a star.
"I can tell you that it is," said Fanderpeice. "
Suddenly Jane recognized one of the women standing with the others waiting a turn at the actress. It was the first lady's social secretary. Jane's friend. Her college classmate, Kay Maxwell. She was one of those people Jane had asked about Xanadu, about Fanderpeice. Kay was one of those who had told Jane she didn't know anything about this place.
"That person on the right," Jane blurted out.
"Yes," said Fanderpeice. "Kay Maxwell. She wasn't happy about having to lie to you about me, about the fact that she was part of Xanadu. I promised that when you got here I would offer her apology to you.
What was going on, thought Jane. She was sure that he had pointed to this particular picture so that Jane would notice Kay.
"Can I get a copy of that picture? For the article." Jane asked Fanderpeice. She wanted a second to think. She wanted him to be reminded she was on a story.
"Yes. Of course," he said. "I suspect, however, that printing the picture in your magazine might present a problem. Releases would probably be extremely difficult if not impossible to get.
"Thank you," she replied, smiling nicely. She was trying to play this as cool as he was.
"I guess right now is as good a time as any to let you know," he said, giving her an open and friendly smile, that..."
"What? That I won't be able to get this information into print?"
"Not at all." Again, he smiled that open, that friendly smile. "You are entitled to use any or all of the information you obtain in any way you wish to use it.
"What, then?" Jane was angry. She felt she was being toyed with. She hadn't come here to meet this man, to see this place in order to be played with.
"What I wanted to fell you was that you, you Jane Bederson, are entitled, as I said, because you are a member of Xanadu. And, as a member, you are free to act as you wish." Fanderpeice continued, "We have no hold on you. Our members are promised that Xanadu is here to offer them fulfillment....in the fullest sense of the word. That is what you are being offered right now."
"What if the thing that fulfills me is to get the best story I can get?"
