5. The Seduction
Fortunately, what appeared to be a dark opening in the ceiling of the pleasure dome turned out to be an opening in the ceiling of the pleasure dome. Oddly enough, though, once they passed through that opening, they found themselves in a well-lit office, completely different from the over-the-top and dramatic Hall of the Crimson Mountain King they had just left. The circular couch was in the middle of an area flanked on three sides by oddly conventional chairs of the metal and plastic variety, the kind intended to be sat in for hours but designed to be uncomfortable after five minutes. There were potted plants in the two corners, and Don was pretty sure they were artificial. A beige carpeting covered the floor. It had vacuum track marks on it and there wasn't a speck of dust to be seen. The fourth side of the room was dominated by a large welcome desk, identified as such by a friendly sign that said "Welcome," behind which sat a middle-aged woman wearing glasses and her brown hair piled high on her head. She glanced up at them as they came to a halt, peering over the rim of her glasses, and then promptly looked back at the computer screen off to her right. For some reason, it was the slightly yellowed screens between them and the fluorescent lights in the ceiling that seemed most incongruous to Don.
Don, Nicole, and Stephanie shared puzzled looks for a moment before Don got up and moved toward the welcome desk. A name plate identified the woman at the computer as Gladys, who he now saw was fully clothed, in a fashion that seemed to him to be most appropriate in the 1970s. Don found himself suddenly acutely aware that he was stark naked, and was a bit happy that he wasn't sporting a raging erection at the moment.
***
Tascha couldn't stop laughing and let herself fall over in the booth. Don waited patiently, but with a smile on his face, until she pulled herself back up and laughingly said, "Please, go on."
***
"Hello, um, Gladys," Don started. "We're here about, uh, getting some rings."
"Case number?" Gladys asked without looking up.
"I don't think we have one," Don frowned and looked over to Stephanie who just shook her head. "No, we don't have one."
Gladys rolled her eyes a bit and fixed Don with an exasperated, over-the-rims look before finally saying, "Names?"
They told her and she typed them into the computer. Without looking back up, Gladys told them to "Have a seat. Someone will be with you shortly."
They turned to return to the sofa, but it was already gone, presumably back to its place in the pleasure dome, so they reluctantly sat down on the plastic chairs, doubly uncomfortable in their nudity.
"This is not at all what I was expecting," Stephanie admitted.
"What were you expecting exactly?" Nicole wanted to know.
"Uh, definitely not this."
"Yeah, I was thinking something a bit more majestic or mystical or something," added Don.
They sat there in awkward silence for what must have been half an hour. This was easily the longest bit of completely idle time they had spent without anyone starting any sexual mischief. There was something about the setting, and Gladys's presence, that proved to be a wet blanket, or a cold shower. If Don had realized this was his last opportunity to have a threesome with these two women, he might have instigated something, but as it was, they waited quietly without much in the way of even conversation.
***
"Wait, what?" Tascha cut in.
"Yeah, this was the last time the three of us would be in the same room."
"You never saw them again?"
"Oh, yeah, we ran into each other now and then, but never all at the same time."
"Still..."
"Yeah, but at the time we were each just dealing with what was going on at the time. It was only later that we realized we should have said goodbye and had one last fling."
***
There was a buzz at the welcome desk, Gladys picked up an old-fashioned phone, listened for a moment, said "Yes, ma'am, right away," hung up the phone, and called out "Stephanie Ayers," as if there were more than just the three people waiting or as if Stephanie might have stepped out somewhere.
Stephanie shot to her feet immediately and crossed to the desk. Gladys looked up, actually smiled, and said, "They will see you now." She gestured to her left, indicating a door that Don was quite sure had not been there before. There was a black plaque on the door with white lettering that said "Interviews."
A bit nervously, Stephanie smiled and waved to Don and Nicole and went through the door.
If anything, the mood in the waiting room was now even more awkward. Fortunately for him, Don was called in only about ten minutes later. He gave Nicole's hand a squeeze as he smiled and said, "See you on the other side, sexy."
"Good luck, I guess, Professor!" she smiled up at him.
Don stepped through the door to find himself in a rather unimpressive and entirely mundane meeting room. A long wooden table took up most of the room and gathered around the far end of the table were five black-robed, hooded figures. Don assumed they were watchers and realized he hadn't seen any of those mysterious folks in quite some time.
To his surprise, the one at the very end of the table gestured toward the chair at the end of the table nearest to Don and said in a clearly feminine voice, "Please have a seat."
Don was happy the seat he was offered was more comfortable than those in the waiting room, and he noted that Stephanie seemed to have warmed it up a bit for him. As he sat down, the woman at the other end asked, "Do you mind if we do without the hoods, Don?"
"No, of course not," Don answered, a bit surprised that he had been asked.
As they each reached up and drew their hoods back, the one at the end explained, "The higher-ups insist on the hoods. They say it lends a certain gravitas to the situation, but we find it just makes things unnecessarily formal and uncomfortable."
It turned out that the woman under the hood was an attractive black woman with her hair buzzed down very close to her scalp. She smiled warmly at Don and said, "Welcome, Don. I'm Pamela, and I'll be conducting this interview. My associates are here primarily as witnesses."
On Pamela's right were an older gentleman with ebony black skin and short white hair and a white woman with short, straight dark brown hair. On her left were a young east Asian man with surprisingly light blond hair and another white woman with long, curly blonde hair. None of these "witnesses" said anything while Don was in the room.
"Pleased to meet you, Pamela," Don smiled. He took a sip from the glass of water that had been set there for him.
"You have an interesting file, Don," Pamela said, gesturing to a black binder on the table in front of her. "I was surprised that you didn't go home with Tascha."
"I would like to be able to return here after I go," Don said.
"Of course," Pamela smiled. There was something completely uninviting about that smile, which Don found odd after all his time in Eros. "Otherwise, why would you be here?"