But what did you need fucking Rhonda and those harpies for anyway? No wonder you don’t want to go over there and be made fun of—shit, groups of women like that are merciless, especially when they’re single and hard up. Wait until you came to the Christmas party with Jill on your arm. She’d be dressed like a starlet at the Oscars, and you’d whisper in her ear and she’d be the one turning red, and Rhonda would be turning green.

That evening, there was no time in the chair, just the physical with the treadmill again, and this exit interview with the old-lady doctor, and then it was time for your date with Sophie. You waited in this real doctor’s-office-type room, with a kind of double-wide hospital bed in it, and fluorescent lights. You were nervous as hell. First you sat on the bed, but that was kind of lame, so then you stood over in the corner by the coatrack.

How would Sophie take this whole thing about Jill’s request? And shit, why the hell did you agree to that? Oh, sure, you knew why: you’re no idiot. Sophie was a pro, she was just doing her job, whereas Jill was for real, Jill was a keeper. One fuck, versus as many fucks as you wanted. But still—Sophie was such a fucking beautiful piece of work. How could you pass up another shot at that svelte, golden European cunt? Could you talk Sophie into going ahead and fucking anyway, and not telling Jill?

But while you were thinking this, underneath the chatter in your head, what you felt didn’t really match. You felt kind of sad and alone. You wished you could be back on the phone with Jill, hearing her laugh.

But holy shit, come on, man, you told yourself, nice problem to have, right? When before did I have grade-A babes fighting over me?

The door opened and you jumped up, because apparently you’d managed to sit down on the bed again.

Sophie, in her clean, severe Germanic glory, smiled at you.

“Gary,” she said. “Are you ready?”

“Sure, of course, hey. Hello. Where are we going?”

“Indeed hello,” she said, closing the door. “Here is fine. Especially since we have a subscriber request, from a”—she looked at her clipboard—“Jill Sivens, to do a short exit session with you. I assume you agree to that?”

“About that,” you said, “uh, Sophie, I hope it’s okay that—”

She looked up and smiles brightly. “Oh, Gary, it’s great! It’s a great sign when our clients are so quick to start building relationships with their new skills.” She put the clipboard down on a table. “Can you take off your clothes? How have you been feeling?”

The flutter in your stomach sank a little, but you started shrugging out of your clothes. “Um, okay. Weird, really.”

“Weird how?” said Sophie.