“Good,” I said, feeling a sense of relief just knowing that I had made the decision and given myself over to the possibilities ahead.
“Now, I have to be honest with you. I have strict rules and regulations when it comes to how I manage this retreat and the experiences that happen here. I will give you a contract and you will be bound to it and its expectations. The most important is anonymity. I’ve already told you that the men will each plan fantasy dates for you and that their personal lives don’t matter. This is not just a platitude. They, too, have signed contracts agreeing not to discuss their personal lives in any way that does not directly connect with the date. The contracts on both ends will also include agreeing that you will not attempt contact or to spend additional time with each other outside of your assigned and appointed date. You are not to share last names, in fact the men will utilize aliases, and you will not exchange any form of contact information. Do you understand?”
I nodded.
“Yes,” I said.
While part of me felt as though I should have been bothered by the restrictiveness of Fawn’s contract, I couldn’t help but be relieved by it. Not being able to make any personal connections with the men meant that I was going to be able to focus entirely on myself and what I was going to be able to get out of each date. No names. No connection. No emotions. No people-pleasing. Just indulgence, fun, and sex.
My mouth watered at the thought and I couldn’t wait to get started.
“Did you think about the fantasies that you would like fulfilled?”
I tried to think, tried to bring my brain to a place where I could imagine fantasies, but I couldn’t. The truth was that I had never thought about it. Maybe that was part of the reason that I had never experienced the type of satisfaction and pleasure that Robin had always talked about. I felt like I should have been embarrassed to admit it, but at the same time, Fawn struck me as the kind of person who would never judge. She was there specifically to help me and if I was open and honest with her, she would. I shook my head.
“I have no idea.”
“Alright,” she said. “Then I will create a sampler for you.”
“Like a box of assorted doughnuts.”
Fawn smiled.
“So much better.”
“Then I will take the sampler.” I hesitated for a moment, unsure of how exactly to phrase the question that I had on the tip of my tongue. “These men,” I finally said, “how many other women have they been…assigned to?”
“None,” Fawn told me, her face suddenly serious. “Each man that I bring into the retreat is only assigned to one woman. I maintain a database of applications and background information for men who are interested in being a part of the experience, and when a woman comes here, I select the men who correspond to her needs.”
“Are they actors?”
I wasn’t sure if that idea bothered me or not. On one hand, it seemed that professional actors would be able to make the experience as realistic as possible, but on the other it could end up being incredibly awkward and part of me hated the idea of feeling like I was being pandered to.
“Absolutely not,” Fawn told me. “Even though your experiences with these men are limited, I can assure you that everything that happens is completely by choice. They are not given instructions for what to do or say or how to interact with you. These are real men and the time that you spend together is as real as if the two of you met in a bar or through friends or on a dating app. The only thing that’s different is that you know these men have been carefully screened, are safe, and know that they are there for you rather than trying to get anything for themselves out of the date. Of course, that doesn’t mean that they won’t enjoy having sex with you if you choose.”
“If I choose?”
Fawn looked at me strangely.
“Of course. This is your experience, Snow. Just because the men will be chosen for you doesn’t mean that you have to do anything with them. You might not be attracted to them. You might not like their personality or the date that they bring you on. If that’s the case, that’s fine. You just let them know that you are done for the day and they will bring you back here and leave. No hurt feelings. No negative thoughts. This is stress relief and personal discovery, not an obligation. If you are interested, however, you can do, say, and experience anything that you please with these men. They will only say and do what is natural and real for them, so you can trust the authenticity of every moment that you spend with them.”
“When is my first date?”
Fawn smiled again.
“It will take me a little time to go through the men I have on file and select the ones who are right for you. For the next day or two, I invite you to stay here, relax, enjoy some pampering. When I have chosen your first date, I will let you know.”
I liked the sound of just enjoying the retreat for a couple of days, even if the anticipation of meeting the first man who Fawn chose for me might keep me from really being able to relax. Fawn and I spoke for a few more minutes about my taste in men and the types of activities I enjoyed. After giving her what was likely far less information than she would have wanted, I headed back to my room. I felt suddenly tired, as if the tension that was coiled tightly within me had started to release, leaving me relaxed but sleepy. When I stepped into my room the man who brought me my breakfast and who had been in the cottage was placing a large platter of fruit on the table. I immediately felt heat come to my cheeks thinking about our brief interaction in the cottage, but he didn’t react as though anything had happened between us. I didn’t know how to react to him or if I should mention our brief but powerful encounter. The longer that he went without acknowledging the cottage, the more I started questioning if it had even happened and soon I came to the conclusion that I must have imagined him there.
Or it was another man and I just superimposed this man’s face onto him.
“Thank you,” I said as he finished arranging the platter and straightened to start toward the door.
“You’re welcome,” he said. “I hope you enjoy it.”
He stepped past me, but I called out to stop him just before he left the room.
“What’s your name?” I asked.
He turned and looked at me as if he wasn’t sure that he had actually heard me ask the question.
“Noah,” he finally said.
“Hi, Noah,” I said. “I’m Snow.”
“It’s nice to meet you.”
“You, too.”
He started for the door again.
“Everything has been really delicious,” I said.
Noah turned and I saw a slight sparkle in his vibrant green eyes. He gave a single nod.
“I’m glad that you liked it,” he said.
There was a short pause and then he turned and left. It was reassuring to know his name. At least there was a sense of connection now that made it somewhat less strange that he came into my room several times a day. Not to mention the delectable long lick that made me tremble even though I was still trying to put it out of my mind.