The 1950's package.
"I don't know what we're doing here," Elizabeth Wyatt looked over at her husband, she was irritable today, she was irritable just about every day. Her husband Tyler smiled over at her, reaching out his hand to hold hers.
"Come on, this place is so exclusive most people haven't even heard of it. I wouldn't have any access if Jason's cousin didn't have an in for us. Just think, we can hold this over every friend and relative from now until the end of time. We were here when it all began." Elizabeth did smile at that, tucking her bright red curls behind her ear. "We'll go in, have a drink, make some chitchat and if you like the look of it, we can come back for golf or swimming or something. Besides, it's an excuse to drink cocktails in the middle of the day."
"As if either of us has ever needed an excuse," she muttered, giving him a look that she was only including herself in that out of kindness to him.
"Exactly," he acted like he hadn't noticed and the two of them headed for the front door. As they opened it, she looked in at the beautifully appointed room and her eyes narrowed.
"Where is everyone? Where are the staff?" On cue one of them walked in, dressed in a polo shirt and shorts, a young man with a shaved head and a smile on his face, tattoos poking out from under his sleeves.
"Sorry about that madame, here, let me take your bag," he stepped up, there was a moment of pain and before the sentence was finished the world was swimming.
"What's going on? What did you just do to me? What's the meaning of this?" She felt arms catching her as the world went black.
Ten minutes later she was laid out on naked a bed, her eyes closed, arms and legs strapped down. Her husband stood behind two-way glass and studied her. He stood beside the bald man, who looked cheerful as he quietly smoked a cigarette. "So, if the information you've included with our staff is accurate you want--."
"I want her to quit her job. It keeps her busy all hours up into the night and she makes barely anything off it. I've tried telling her over and over again that I make more than enough money for both of us, that she doesn't need to do it, but she insists that she needs to keep her independence and that it gives her a sense of purpose. As if raising our kids isn't enough purpose. She works twelve-hour days sometimes. Honestly, it's costing me almost as much money in hiring someone else to take care of the kids as she brings in. I know I know, she's a defence attorney and that's important, but when is she going to make time for our family?"
"I'm not judging you sir. This is my job and I'm here to fix things for you. This is one place where you needn't apologise for your actions or your motives. You want her to quit her job? For us to get rid of her desire to take care of others and focus on her family. Correct?"
"Well, among other things."
"Yes," Mason smiled. "My associate refers to this as the '1950's package'. Your wife will be made more compliant and available to you, more nurturing of your children, and less confrontational. You've asked to see what techniques we're using," Annette entered the room and began injecting chemicals into an IV bag. "This is a rather simple procedure, since your wife is going to be in our custody for some time and we'll be able to work on her around the clock. The drugs we're putting into her are designed to make her suggestible, as well as some neuro depressents to compromise intellect and a dose of aphrodisiacs. For the next few months she'll be kept constantly aroused, and will be rarely alleviated."
"Alleviated? You're not going to--"
"The alleviation will be carried out by Annette and will be an entirely clinical process." Tyler blushed a little as he looked at the young goth woman who was checking the restraints, her pale fingers running across his wife's long athletes legs.
"Could I see that?" He'd blurted it out before he even knew the words were in his mouth. Mason laughed.
