Chapter 29

Larry was waiting, already in his coat and gloves. He looked impossibly chipper. I found my things and got them on, and we went out to the car.

He made his way down the driveway and back onto the local roads, mostly unlit and without street signs. “So, have a good time? They’re lots of fun, don’t ya think?”

“Nice girls, interesting. Yeah, it was fun. But tiring. Geez, Larry, I’m exhausted. How do you do it? You look you’re ready to find another party.”

“You gotta pace yourself, it’s something you learn to do over time. I had a lot of practice before I graduated, so it might be easier for me. But we should probably get some sleep. I’ve got plans for us later in the week.”

“I’m a little afraid to ask.”

“All shall be revealed in due course. We’ll be home in no time and you can recuperate.”

And true enough, a short time later the gate with the keypad appeared out of the darkness. He parked behind the house and unlocked the back door, punching a code into the keypad to silence the alarm. Once inside, he reset it.

“You want anything to eat before we crash?”

I said no, and we went off to our respective rooms. I was asleep two minutes later.

When I awoke, the sun was high. I looked at my watch and it was pushing eleven. I brushed my teeth, took a quick shower, got clean clothes, and stumbled downstairs.

“I was wondering when you’d show your face,” said a voice when I stepped into the dining room. Larry was finishing his breakfast, looking impossibly bright-eyed. He reached under the table and pushed the button. A few moments later Mrs. Mahoney came through the door.

“Good morning, sir. Some breakfast?”

I told her some scrambled eggs would be fine. And coffee. She disappeared.

Larry said, “We’ll probably take it easy today, unless something comes up that I didn’t know about, but I’ve got plans for us tomorrow. Just so you know. I think my father is due back today, so you’ll have to go through the inquisition. He does it to all my friends, which is why I don’t have them over more often. He wants to make sure that they’re headed in the right direction, and have plans for the future. The good news is that you don’t have to prepare a written document. The quiz is oral.”

I thought he was making a joke, but I couldn’t be quite sure. I didn’t know much about him, but I’d seen the occasional puff piece in various news magazines about him and the company, and they invariably mentioned that he was “driven”. So this was looking to be a fun evening. Not.

Mrs. Mahoney came back pushing a tray. The order for ‘scrambled eggs’ had been expanded to include bacon, sausages, home fries, toast and English muffins, some sliced fruit, and various jams. How is it that they didn’t all weigh three hundred pounds?

I ate until I was full, but there was still a lot left on the trays. But I refused to stuff myself just because it was there. I had a second cup of coffee instead.

Larry offered a few options to kill the afternoon, movies, play video games, pool -- of course they had a billiards room, doesn’t everyone? -- and so on. We decided to watch a movie, then do some serious video game battle. And that’s how we spent the rest of the day. Mrs. Mahoney brought us down a plate of sandwiches midway through the afternoon. I thought that I could become accustomed to this indolent lifestyle.

Mrs. Krugman sent the maid, Martha, down to remind us that dinner was at seven and we shouldn’t be late. Larry told me, “That means my father has returned and he’ll want dinner on time and that we should be there so as not to be disrespectful to the staff. At least that’s the excuse he always gives. I’m about played out, anyway.”

I asked if we needed to put on something fancier for dinner, but he assured me that we were fine. Only when they had guests that he wanted to impress was that required.

And so at the appointed time we went to the dining room and found his mother waiting. We found our seats, and she said, “He’s on a call, just finishing up.” She inquired about our afternoon and what we’d been up to last night. Larry made the party at Amelia’s sound much larger than it was and said it was nice to catch up with his friends.

We were interrupted by a voice entering from the hallway. “I apologize for that, some last-minute crisis that needed someone to tell them what to do. Ah, you must be Carter, Larry’s roomie.”

I stood up and shook the offered hand. Definite CEO vibe, a person who demands respect, who expects things to be done according to accepted practice and doesn’t like surprises. He was looking at me like a lab specimen, determining if I met the minimum requirements for laboratory specimens. He told me he was pleased to meet me and motioned me back into my seat.

Mahoney must have been listening at the door, because it opened and she and and a maid entered with serving dishes. “Ah, Mahoney, what delights have you in store for us tonight?”

Tonight, it turned out, was rib roast, with green beans, roasted potatoes and salad. And like every other meal, it was perfect, one of the best roasts I’d ever tasted.

While we ate, he directed the conversation. Mrs. Krugman didn’t contribute much, deferring to him. He asked Larry how his classes were going, how his interests were changing, if he’d taken an interest in any sports, and so on.

Larry, I thought, had developed a style of response that fed him back what he wanted to hear without adding anything that might offer his father a chance to object or criticize his choices or things that he had chosen not to do. It was actually quite subtle. He had learned how to manipulate his father, who was notorious for being opinionated, into agreeing with almost everything he was told. I thought Larry might have hidden talents that I had not yet seen.

He turned toward me. “So, Tom, Larry’s told us a little about you, but I suspect he’s left a lot out. Tell us some more about yourself.”

This was the inquisition Larry had mentioned. I had to hand it to Krugman senior, he appeared charming, interested, delighted, in fact, to be able to learn more about me. But there was something else there, under the surface. This was, I thought, how he bested his business rivals, because he’d learned how to extract information inconspicuously, which he would use later to cut you to pieces.

This was more than just a mild suspicion, it had the feeling of certainty, and I wondered again if I was experiencing the same sort of unconscious mind connection that I’d felt with others. So I picked a few highlights that I knew well and recited them for his benefit, and while I was telling him -- I’d finally mastered the ability to speak while using some of my abilities -- I looked into his epicenter and tried to understand his goals.

His epicenter was impeccably neat, everything ordered. If it were a desk, all the papers’ edges would be aligned, the pens and pencils ordered, all the same distance apart and facing in the same direction, and the surface of the desk agleam. Nothing superfluous was visible. He was focused on me for the moment. When he was speaking to someone else, the desk would change, replaced by new items.

He was maintaining a mental checklist, marking items that passed muster. I saw ‘clean’ and ‘respectful’, along with ‘good manners’. I was talking now about how I’d discovered I had a facility for languages, and I listed them. I saw him check ‘communication skills’.

I paused to gather my thoughts and he took the opportunity to interrupt and ask me about my plans for the future. What was I working toward, my goals?

I’d guessed this would be on the agenda. I told him that it was still early to be making those life decisions, but my current interests were in psychology because I had some curiosity about what drove people, their motivations, as well as why some people veered off the path and became twisted. I said I would probably attend graduate school to learn more about it.

I saw that he hesitated in checking off the question on his list. I got the sense that he approved of my ability to identify what I wanted to do, but distrusted psychiatrists and psychologists. Well, can’t please everybody.

His attention started to wander as something I couldn’t see was poking at his consciousness, but as his focus moved away I saw that I had at least passed muster. He began addressing his wife about some function they were to attend later in the week. It was as if I had ceased to exist. He’d gotten what he needed from me and put me aside and I was no longer of interest.

Mrs. Krugman offered me seconds, but I was full and declined. Her husband shook his head before she asked. She pushed a button under the table, and the maid entered to remove the plates. When she had cleared the table, Mrs. Mahoney returned with dessert. It was apple pie and most assuredly homemade, with vanilla ice cream.

“Mrs. Mahoney,” he said, “you know all my secrets, don’t you? You always remember my favorite treat when I come back from a trip. Thank you.”

It was really very good, sinfully good, with a hint of cinnamon and nutmeg. Decadent and perfect. As we finished, he patted his lips with a napkin and said to no one in particular, “Much better. Say what you will about four-star restaurants, they can’t compete with Mahoney. Tom, Larry, I’ll be in and out for the next few days so I may not see much of you, and if I don’t, I wish you the best for the rest of the semester. Tom, I hope you enjoy your stay with us.”

I assured him I would, and thanked him for having me. He nodded and was gone.

We spent a few more minutes over coffee, chatting with Mrs. K, then she, too, excused herself.

When she was gone, Larry said, “Well, you got through it, and did a pretty good job of it, too. I can read him pretty well, and you passed the test.”

“Thanks. I couldn’t help but pick up on the way you phrased your answers, selecting which things to share and how you did it. It was ... interesting.”

“Hard-learned lessons. It wasn’t always like that. It’s easier now that I know how to do it. It makes life less contentious. So what d’ya want to do tonight?”

I had no preference, so we watched another movie or two, and hit the sack. To tell the truth, last night was catching up with me and I was glad to get under the sheets.

It was a reasonable hour when I got up, and I felt more rested. After breakfast, neither of us was in the mood for another movie or a video game, so Larry decided that he needed new shoes and dragged me along. We wound up in a high-end mall -- I could tell because of the number of Cadillacs, Volvos and BMWs in the parking lot -- and he took me to an exclusive men’s shoe store. I almost exclaimed out loud when I saw the price on the first pair of shoes in the display window, but Larry didn’t hesitate.

They addressed him by name as soon as we entered, and they seemed to know his size already, so he pointed to something that he thought he liked and they ran off to extract it from the bowels of the store. When they returned he tried it on and decided that he didn’t like the way they looked and homed in on another style.

After several iterations, he found something he liked and told them he’d take those. They didn’t ask for money or a credit card, so the family obviously had an account there and they just handed him the bag and said how pleased they were to see him again.

Back in the car, we headed home because we couldn’t think of anything else either of us needed. After five minutes, Larry spoke. “So. About tonight. I’ve been a little close-mouthed about it, partly because I wasn’t sure if you’d like it or not. Do you remember back at school I made an offhand comment about clubs and special interests? Do you recall?”

I told him I did, vaguely.

“I was being cryptic because the club is ... well, let’s call it private. It’s invitation only, and you have to be known to people before you’re invited. It’s not exactly illegal, but it’s the kind of a place where your presence, or worse, your participation, could cause awkward ripples in your business or your personal life.

“So you got some hints about what my high school was like last night. People were, well, open and non-judgmental about who does what with whom, and where, and how often. It worked out pretty well for most of us. It turns out that a lot of people like for that to happen in their adult lives as well. Sometimes they make their own arrangements, boyfriends and girlfriends outside of marriage, or a pickup in a bar, or maybe it’s just someone unattached who decides they want a night out to throw out all the rules.

“This club we’re going to ... It doesn’t have a name, it doesn’t look like a nightclub, it looks like someone’s house, and everyone just calls it Drew’s Place because it sounds like an everyday thing if someone asks what you’re doing tonight, and you say ‘Oh, I’m going over to Drew’s place for a couple of hours.’ No one would suspect, if they didn’t already know what Drew’s Place was. And it’s gender-neutral, so no one knows if you’re referring to male Drew or female Drew.”

“I’m still a bit hazy here, Larry. You’re being circumspect.”

“Yeah, okay, sorry. It’s force of habit, we’re not supposed to talk about it, so the word doesn’t get around. So Drew’s Place is where you go when you want to get laid. Man or woman. And before you ask, there’s more women than men, I’m not sure why. The age range is all over the map. I’d guess that most of them are in their thirties and forties, still young enough to have a strong sex drive, and old enough that maybe they’re not getting enough at home.

“So when the mood strikes, they go spend an evening at Drew’s Place. There’s an entry fee and maintenance fees, like a condo, but don’t worry, it’s taken care of. You can usually find somebody there who’s into whatever kink you’re into. First time can be a bit intimidating, but you learn to read the unwritten signs, and people will help if you say you’re a newcomer.”

I said, “How did you happen to frequent this place if you were so busy doing the same thing in school?”

“Well, sometimes there’s a lot of drama attached to sex in school. Some girls want it to be romantic, with commitments. And sometimes they’re not into the kink that you like, don’t want anything to do with it. So in those cases we went to Drew’s Place. And just so you know, they’re a little paranoid about somehow winding up being involved with hosting underage sex, so they vet prospective members up the wazoo, till they’re absolutely positive they’re of legal age.

“It’s not really a swinger’s club, because there aren’t that many couples, and there’s no requirement that you bring a member of the opposite sex with you. So maybe you call it a sex club, except that there are no paid performers. Everyone’s an amateur. Well, maybe non-professional is a better word. Some of these amateurs could teach the pros a thing or two. Oh, and there are paid staff, bartenders, bouncers, cleaning staff. They don’t participate at all. Strictly hands off. Somebody makes a move on one of the staff, they’re asked to leave and not come back for six months. One of the staff makes a move on one of the members, they’re shown the door immediately and blackballed.

“Just so you know, there are locker rooms where you can leave your clothes, and showers, and they provide condoms and lube. Condoms are preferred for sex unless someone asks you to do otherwise. If you want to bring your own sex toys to use on yourself, that’s allowed, just don’t share. Anybody can say no if someone approaches them for sex and they’re not in the mood or if it’s some particular thing they’re not turned on by, no hard feelings. There’s lots of folks around, so if somebody says no, just find someone else.”

“I gotta tell you, sometimes I feel like I grew up in a religious commune, unaware of what the world’s really like. So, did you ever go to Drew’s Place and run into someone you know? One of your friends. Or a teacher! Did you ever run into a teacher? Or somebody who owns a local business?”

“It happens. Not with a teacher. Not yet, anyway. I did see a nurse there who worked in my dentist’s office. She was being spitroasted by two guys. That’s the other thing. Yeah, it could happen, you see somebody you know there. The rule is you don’t let on that you know each other, and you never make a reference to the encounter if you come across them in real life. You remember that movie Behind The Green Door? Like that. Everybody pretends it never happened.”

“Well, I’m both titillated and terrified. I can’t tell if I’m going to go running in the door or hide in the car.”

“You’ll be fine. First time is always a bit awkward, but after that it’s no different than going to a popular club for drinks. You get used to it.”

I thought, but didn’t speak, “Easy for you to say.”