Prologue

The old man wheeled himself in front of the fireplace, seeking warmth for his tired bones. He sighed, the muscles and sinews in his arms and back creaking in protest as he stretched his hands toward the blaze. The old man closed his eyes, imagining again the events which would transpire over the next few weeks.

The man had lost track of how many contests he had participated in since the game's inception, although he knew the number to be in the dozens. It had begun as a bet between fraternity brothers, and had grown through the years.

How many women can you fuck in one week? It was the question he had been asked, a question which had ultimately led to what he thought of as The Great Race Across America. At first the game had been nothing more than a chance to brag, an opportunity for spoiled rich boys to strut like peacocks, preening proudly in front of eager sorority sisters. It had been simple at first, and the game had quickly grown tiresome.

As time passed and these young fraternity brothers became graduates, then young lions in finance, enterprise and government, the men changed the competition, molding it into something more suited to their new stature in the world. The old man laughed, a raspy hacking that echoed through the immense library. He remembered the first time anyone had suggested the game become mobile and a new world had opened up to them as the friends fucked their way across the country.

Eventually the prominent positions many of the contestants held in their communities as lawmakers, elected officials and corporate leaders had mandated yet another change. Men who had once been participants were now reduced to watching the game. Controlling the game. The thrill was still very much a part of the competition, but now each of the roughly dozen remaining fraternity brothers became an unknown sponsor to a new generation of competitors.

As age and prestige had set in, so had the fear. Fear of exposure, embarrassment and bad publicity had forced many of the man's former compatriots to an even more passive role in the game. Where once each man had selected one or two potential contestants and wooed them into competing against the representatives from the other former schoolmates, now only the old man contacted the potential players.

At first this new task had been daunting until the man realized it didn't particularly matter who participated - as long as someone did. And so for the last few years the man had amused himself by picking names at random from national phone directories. A myriad of enticements were always offered the unwitting participants and more often than not they accepted the challenge, although they would never know the true nature of the contest.

The excitement of the illicit and hurried sexual encounters remained, but as the years passed the overseers of the game grew bored and the game once more changed. New technologies allowed for a close watch over the contestants by those holding the pursestrings and allowed for many a large wager to be placed between old friends. Gone were the days of a pure contest, the winner selected by a simple criteria of "how much sex." Each contestant still received a mysterious communique detailing the strict guidelines to be followed but in truth the guidelines mattered little.

The old man laughed as he thought of it. The pure gall of his little competition, which really wasn't a competition at all. There was no level playing field. The contest's rules varied from contestant to contestant. Different variables, each rule particular to only one player, requiring different sexual acts, various partners, and strict adherence to the old man's ever-changing rules.

"Carter," the old man bellowed. "Read me the last letter."

"Yes, sir. Of course, sir," the staid butler said, walking into his master's private library. Carter cleared his throat and read aloud the letter. It was one of a dozen similar letters, all sent to men and women along the east coast of America. The potential contestants were unaware of exactly how many other people were involved, and in fact the number changed yearly. The number of contestants had never been less than five, although it had mushroomed during some years to upwards of twenty.

The letter Carter held in his hands would be sent via private courier to a man living in a suburb outside of Atlanta, Georgia. The man had a wife and two children, and a job he was longing to leave. As Carter read the letter, the old man listened to the conditions of the contest. If this man chose to participate, he would be provided with a motor home, video camera, cell phone, personal computer with mobile Internet access, and a credit card with no limit as were all contestants.

"Stop," the old man barked, realizing his mind had been wondering. "What are his rules?" he asked, waiting while the butler returned to the letter.

"Ah, here it is," Carter announced as he read from the letter. "He will be required to stop at each town with a population in excess of ten thousand people. Should he choose to spend the night, he will be required to provide video proof of a minimum of two sexual contacts. Should he choose to advance to the next town, only one will be required."

Like all the participants, this man, should he choose to participate, was given one week to report and record as many of his exploits as possible. Or rather, that was his belief. In truth, men and women from all over the country would be participating, attempting to win a prize they believed ranged anywhere from one to twenty million dollars. They would be competing against an unknown number of other men and women, all with a different set of requirements in their letter, but all assuming each contestant was playing the game with the same set of rules.

In fact, the only thing similar about each contestant's set of rules was a point system, grading sexual activities based on difficulty. Seducing as many sexual partners as possible during any given span was a difficult proposition, and a player ought to be rewarded for receiving something more than oral sex, the old man thought. But after the point system, the similarities ended there.

The point system had been a wrinkle the old man had introduced a decade ago, a move made from boredom. There's only so many ways a man can fuck a gas station attendant or a woman can seduce a police officer, he laughed, the sound echoing through the cavernous library. The participants involved in the contest had no need to know they were all playing under different sets of rules, just as they had no need to know that ultimately there was no grand prize, as the letter claimed there to be.

"Very good," the man muttered. The difficult part of the contest, the planning and worrying, was nearly at an end. The letters had been sent out and the old man was pleased. He enjoyed variety and took great pleasure in the writing of each contestant's rules. Whereas one man might be under strict order to have sexual relations only with women sharing the same first name as his mother or sister, another participant might be required to have sex once for every three hundred miles traveled. Or any number of different possibilities.

The man motioned to Carter and the butler nodded and retreated from the room, leaving the old man alone. He knew the letters would be delivered shortly, leaving their recipients one week to decide if they would participate. A special phone number had been set up for their responses, although they would have no idea who they were contacting. The old man preferred it that way, and what he desired he found he generally received.

Three more weeks, he thought, and then the fun begins.

Anthony's Story Begins

Anthony looked at the letter in his hand. It had come via registered mail, but had contained no return address. He had inquired, but the courier had been unable, or unwilling, Anthony thought, to tell him anything regarding the letter's origins.

Dear Mr. Martin,

You are cordially invited to partake in a most confidential and lucrative endeavor. Copies of this letter have been sent to various others such as yourself: those who crave daring, passion, and above all... adventure.

The adventure placed before you is this:

Beginning on September 19, and continuing through September 26, a period of exactly one week, your goal shall be to work your way across the United States, from your home in Virginia, through the Midwest, eventually reaching the finish line at an undisclosed location in Washington state.

This will not be a race in the general sense of the word. You will not be rewarded for reaching the destination first, nor penalized for being last to arrive. In fact, the longer your stay on the road, the more likely your potential reward.

The real challenge to this race lies between the beginning and finish, at each stop along the way. The goal of this race is thus: during the week of the race, you will be awarded points for engaging in various sexual activities. Enclosed you will find a scorecard with which to tally your daily point total. Various sexual activities are of course worth more points than others, but may take longer for you to achieve. It is up to you to determine the best course of action for you. Quantity of encounters or quality of a few select trysts now becomes your concern.

There is, of course, a catch.

You have one rule which you must follow on this trip: Every time you stop, whether it is for food or gas or to sleep the night, you shall be required to engage in sexual activity with at least one other person. More activity is, of course better, but at least one instance is required of you. So plan your mileage carefully, and study your maps. You have one week to reach your destination.

You will be provided with a motor home (which shall be equipped with a GPS unit in order to track your progress and to make note of each and every stop), a laptop computer to transmit your daily scores, credit cards with no preset limits, and most importantly, a digital video camera. You will be required to have video proof of each sexual encounter, whether this is testimony from the woman in question or a simple video document of the activity.

Chapter 1 »