The cool blonde woman sitting across from her was equally impressive. With just an arched eyebrow and a chilly smile, the Vice President of D.O.V. Inc., made Holly feel like a complete frump-a-dump in her loose jeans and oversized fisherman's sweater. Obviously, she should have dressed up for this meeting, but it had never occurred to her that an appointment with a representative from a female fantasy fulfillment agency would feel so much like a job interview for a position that was way out of her league.
"Well," Holly said, looking down at her lap. "I was only able to glance at the contents while the officers searched the bedroom, but there was a box of condoms, two sets of handcuffs, a blindfold, and some rope. And a very large knife." There was also a huge black spiked dildo in there, but she wasn't going to tell this stranger about that.
Miss Bright went a shade or two paler as Holly recited her list. "My goodness," she said, adjusting her glasses. "That's awful. No wonder you've been plagued with anxiety. It sounds like you narrowly escaped every woman's worst nightmare."
Holly glanced up and away nervously. "I did, and I'm so grateful for that. You have no idea. I can't even contemplate how actual rape survivors are able to move on with their lives. But for whatever reason, I didn't get away completely unscathed. Things have been, well, strange, ever since that night."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, the obvious stuff. I have trouble sleeping. My appetite has disappeared completely. I'm nervous all the time. I can't focus on work or anything anymore. Books, movies, basic conversation. I'm just not myself. And it's not getting better." The dark circles under Holly's pale blue eyes and the way her clothes hung on her frail frame gave testament to her words, but she was having trouble revealing the other disturbing side-effect of that night. The one that had brought her here.
"I'm sorry, Miss Chambers. I don't understand. Surely a therapist would be more helpful with your particular situation."
"I've tried that. And it really hasn't helped. Talking about it and all my feelings of guilt and fear just seem to make it worse. I have, well, nightmares I guess you'd call them."
"Guilt? Why on Earth would you feel guilty?"
"Well, unfortunately, two other women in my neighborhood haven't been so lucky. It’s been in the news. Last month another woman was raped. It was another home invasion. Same circumstances. And last week it happened again. This time she was badly beaten." Holly felt uncontrollable panic rising in her chest but somehow managed to keep her voice even and detached.
Miss Bright just stared at her client for a long time. When she spoke, her voice had lost that distinctive clipped tone that made her sound more machine than human being. "Holly. I'm really sorry, but I don't think we can help you. What you need is some kind of Post Traumatic Stress treatment. D.O.V. Inc., is for entertainment purposes only. Our Scene Facilitators are very talented at helping women work through their sexual issues, but this is way beyond their abilities. They might aggravate your condition. We can't risk that. You've been through enough." She shook her head decisively and folded her hands on her desk. "I apologize, sincerely, but we're unable to meet your needs. Thank you for coming. I really hope you find what you're looking for." She stood up from her desk, indicating that their consultation was over; when she noticed that Holly was blushing profusely.
Miss Bright sat back down. "Miss Chambers? What aren't you telling me?"
Holly leaned forward and placed her elbows on the edge of the massive marble-topped desk. Then she covered her flaming face with her hands. "Well. There's another side effect that I haven't mentioned."
If Holly hadn't covered her eyes she would have seen the expression of genuine concern which flashed across Miss Bright's face. But it was gone quickly and then the cool mask slid smoothly back into place. "Miss Chambers? I can't help you unless you tell me why you're really here."
"Oh God. You're going to think I'm the most twisted woman you've ever met."
"I sincerely doubt that." Miss Bright said dryly. "Just tell me."
Holly hesitated, and then let loose her confession in a wailed rush. "Those nightmares I mentioned. Well, they're not always scary. In fact, they're sometimes amazing. Every single night I dream about the same thing. Him. Coming into my room. But every once in awhile it's not that horrible man. It's someone else. And he doesn't hurt me."
Miss Bright arched one finely-drawn eyebrow at Holly's evasiveness. "What does he do?"
Holly lowered her voice to a low whisper. "He makes love to me. It sounds so ridiculously corny, but that's exactly what he does. He's forceful and demanding, but in those dreams I love every wonderful, kinky thing he makes me do. Things that I've never even thought about before."
Miss Bright primly folded her hands in front of her again and gave Holly an encouraging nod. "Well, that doesn't seem like a problem. Many women would be thrilled with that particular type of nightmare."
Holly shook her head in denial. "You don't understand. Every night I go to bed not knowing if I'm going to wake up screaming in terror or in pleasure. So, I rarely sleep more than an hour or two a night. I don't want this. I need things to go back to normal and it's just not happening. It's been months and I live my life either scared out of my mind, or hornier than a fourteen year old boy living next door to the Playboy Mansion. It's awful."
"What does your therapist say?"
"Well, she thinks that everyone reacts differently to trauma, but for whatever reason, I'm not recovering as I should. Even though what actually happened was quite minor, I can't seem to move past it. Which is why my subconscious mind is coping with all of this by trying to take my fear of what could have happened that night away and giving it a wildly positive outcome. So, instead of my dreams culminating in the worst case scenario, which would be normal, it's inconsistently fabricating an incredible sexual fantasy in order to compensate for my inability to get over what happened."
"Wow." Miss Bright exclaimed, uncharacteristically thrown by Holly's explanation.
"Yeah. I know. Twisted, right?"
"Your therapist hasn't prescribed something?"
"Nothing works. Believe me, if I could take a magical pill to suppress these dreams, I would."
"I still don't quite understand what you would like us to do about your problem."
"Well, this is going to sound odd now, but it seemed brilliant yesterday when I found your card. Of course I am sleep deprived so I may be deluding myself."
"You found our card? You mean, another female acquaintance didn't refer you to us?"
"No. I was sitting at the coffee shop in the front of my building, trying not to fall asleep at my laptop, when I noticed your card sticking out of my cup sleeve. Someone slipped it to me, I guess. The place was crowded, so I have no idea where it came from. I thought it was some kind of coffee promotion at first. A new flavor maybe. But I asked the barista and she had no idea what I was talking about." Holly shrugged and noted that Miss Bright was frowning at this explanation. "You don't usually advertise this way?"
"I should say not. We operate almost exclusively through word-of-mouth. Previous clients recommend us. We don't even have a website."
"Then where did this card come from?"
"I can assure you that I have no idea. Several years ago, our founder was distributing them at his discretion, but he's currently out of town. On his honeymoon actually. And to my knowledge he almost never hands them out anymore."
"That's very mysterious."
"Yes, but irrelevant to your situation. Perhaps you can explain what exactly seemed so brilliant yesterday?"