All through yesterday I was uncharacteristically engulfed with thoughts of the girl. I am beaten ironically by a girl named Beat. This morning I sat staring at the photobooth images, and her number on the back – I never call girls back. Never. But something in my mind kept nagging me to dial the buttons, just to hear her voice… But I’m not stupid, I know the three day rule, can’t call til then or else I’ll seem desperate. DESPERATE. I cannot believe I’m talking about me here. I feel sick. What is this madness.
Midday rolled along and the desire became too strong. I had to call her. And so I did. But it wasn’t her who answered, it was a man’s voice at the other end of the line. Before I had time to say hello, the voice named an inner-city address and promptly hung up. I quickly wrote down the address and decided that this mysterious quest was too intriguing to ignore. I found myself a map and I set out to find this place and whatever it housed within.
After considerable hunting, I found the house that matched the address. It was a glamourous terrace at the end of a dead end road. It had a black wrought-iron fence surrounding it, and large cherry blossom trees in the front garden. I followed the path to the front door and knocked three times. A slim, tall eurasian girl answered and invited me in. She led me through the house to an intimate sitting room the first floor. The light was dim, and the furniture looked antique, with old fashioned coffee tables, persian rugs and a glamourous chandelier. She asked me to sit, and told me I would be seen to shortly.
It was highly strange, but wonderfully exciting. I had no idea where I was, but I felt that I deserved to be there. And what had all this to do with Beat? Why had she left me this number??
After a few minutes, the eurasian girl returned with a glass of red wine, and an auspicious smile. “Desiree will see you now.” So I got up and followed her again, this time into a room which looked as much like an office as it did an Arabian opium den. A woman was sitting behind a large Victorian style gilded desk. As much as I could see of her outfit, she wore a tight fitting crimson blazer, with a gold locket, and large gold hoop earrings. Her black, curly hair was pulled up loosely and her make up was sophisticated for a lady of her age, which I assumed was mid-40′s. She smiled as I entered the room, and motioned for me to sit in the chair opposite her. Who was this lady? Was she a madam? I really hoped I hadn’t wondered into a brothel again.
“So nice of you to visit us, Mr. Milton Leigh.” She spoke with a raspy voice that suggested she was a smoker, “My name is Desiree Porteini, and I am the regional president of a highly elite organisation, of which we wish you to be a member.”
I naturally had about a million questions running though my head. But before I could voice a single one, three people I recognised walked into the room. The first one was Beat, the second was the possibly-gay ex-editor of Ralph that I met that day in the pub, and the last one was crazy Michelle, the psychopath who trashed my apartment. This was getting stranger and stranger.
“I believe you’re recently acquainted with Beatrice, perhaps you remember Michelle? And this is my personal assistant, Elias.”
I stood up and shook the gentleman’s hand. My mind was racing, and things seemed to be getting stranger and stranger. Still I found it hard to find the words to voice my queries.
Desiree went on, “Beatrice, Michelle, Elias and myself are all members of the same organisation, one that has branches worldwide, and one that seeks the specific talents and skills that you possess. You see, we have been watching you, and testing you to assess your level of aptitude for our agency, and I am pleased to be able to offer you a position.”
“Brilliant” I said, “but what exactly is this “organisation” you speak of?”
Desiree grinned at me, the way a parent grins at a naive child asking foolish questions.
“Our agency specialises in the formulation and implementation of desire….”
Oh dear. It is a brothel.
“But before you leap to any hasty conclusions, our members are not procured for any solicitous purposes. Our clients usually hire our members on behalf of another person in order to achieve a specific goal.”
“And by ‘goal’ what exactly do you mean?”
“Well, often we get requests from people who know someone that they think seems somewhat jaded with love. He or she may have lost interest in meeting people or perhaps they find themselves rarely attracted to potential suitors. We conduct a private evaluation of the ‘loveless’ individual, and then deploy into the field a member of our organisation who we feel is best suited to charm and captivate them. Throughout the courtship, we restore hope in the ‘loveless’ and give them the opportunity to experience ‘love’ as they never have before. And by ‘love’, I don’t necessarily mean physically, but spiritually, emotionally – something real and passionate that they can remember and treasure forever.”
“But don’t they know it’s all formulated?”
“That’s the thing, because we’re hired through a third party, the ‘loveless’ assumes it is all as authentic as love should be.”
“That’s ludicrous. You can’t tell me that you can just make other people fall in love 100% of the time with a selected member of your agency…there has to be an infinite number of variables in these sort of occasions!”
“Well of course. Sometimes it takes longer than others, but it always happens. No one yet has been able to resist the temptation of something as precious and pure as love. You should know, what with all the girls who have fallen for you after one brief encounter.”
“Alright, people hire your people to make other people fall in love with them. But surely your client base is not exclusively concerned friends looking out for their “loveless” buddies who are unlucky when it comes to dating…”
“You’re quite right. On occasion, we do have clients who may desire our services for more disingenuous purposes. A concerned father, unhappy with his daughter’s choice in marriage, may seek a man to charm her and open up her eyes to a world of men she never imagined. Perhaps a jilted wife want’s to get back at her husband by making him fall in love with another woman, only to see him eventually abandoned by this new found love in the most unfortunate of circumstances. All those married politicians that we see having salacious affairs, or celebrities that find themselves publicly humiliated for cheating on partners or having dalliances with escorts – all these usually involve a member of our organisation. Like I said, we have branches all over the world, and have been around for decades…do you know of the Profumo affiar? Christine Keeler was one of ours.”
“Well, why the date with Beatrice? And the disaster with Michelle here?”
“It was part of the evaluation. Beatrice was an example of the seduction and courtship process, to prove to you that no one, not even you, is exempt from our strategies. Elias got information about your general person, and Michelle was a frightening example of what becomes a rare possibility in this line of work…when the ‘loveless’ discovers they’re being played. It doesn’t happen often, but it does happen. Fortunately the money well makes up for it.”
“What sort of money are we talking here?”
Desiree grabs a pink slip of paper and writes something down. She holds it up, Elias walks over to her, takes the paper and hands it to me. My jaw drops.
“So, when can I start?”
![and_god_created_woman_PDVD_000criterion_[1]](http://farm4.staticflickr.com/3070/2697026284_06be8c0ca5_t.jpg "and_god_created_woman_PDVD_000criterion_[1]")
