Chapter 1: Alfred wakes up

The day I was supposed to marry Sophie, I woke up on a bed without sheets, my feet tied together and my hands to the bedposts. There was a blindfold on my face, rather like these masks some people wear to sleep while traveling. It worked well: I couldn’t see a thing. Reflexively I pulled on the ropes around my wrists; they held. Sightlessness enhanced my other senses, or maybe I just paid more attention to them; in any case, once I calmed somewhat, I could hear breaths nearby, more than one.

“Who are you?” I asked. “What do you want?” “You’ll soon find out what we want,” a familiar woman’s voice said. I searched my memories for it, but it was harder now that it was silent again. “Do you want money?” It felt strange talking to someone I could not see or remember; I did not even now where she, or they, were, so I could not move my head to face them. “You have to let me go. I’m getting married today.” “Maybe. If we approve.” “June?”

Suddenly I’d recognized the voice. June was a friend of Sophie, but not of mine. Ever since we’d started dating, she would criticize me, both to my face and behind my back. I remembered with some concern the dark look she had given me once when she’d visited us at home. She had taken off her sweater, and instinctively I’d looked at her large breasts under her T-shirt. She noticed, but did not speak up, just glared at me while I looked away. Her breasts were unbelievably large and pert for such a small, lean woman; I was sure they were enhanced. Now I was bound at her mercy.

“What is it, June? A prank?” “It’s a test, Alfred. You must convince us to let you marry our friend.”

‘Us’? ‘Our’? Of course, wherever June and Sophie went, there went too their two friends ... They called themselves the Quartet, although only Sophie and Phryne had ever played instruments, and not in years. “Who’s ‘we’?” I asked. “ May? Phryne? Are you here?”

May just laughed cavernously. Phryne said “I’m here, Alfred. Anything you want to tell me?” “Just let me go, please. Sophie will get mad.” “Why would she get mad that you’re here with her friends?”

I found myself unable to give a coherent answer, and pulled fruitlessly on my restraints instead. June tapped me lightly on the chest and went on: “As a matter of fact, we’re here as Sophie’s friends, to make sure you’re a worthy husband for her. Frankly, I have my doubts. You’re not that handsome, your career is a joke, and what’s more ... You’re a dirty little pervert.” May laughed again, loudly, as she often would. She was a tall, blonde, brawny woman, a few inches taller than me. She played some sort of team sport in a club, I remembered, and had the muscles to show for it.

“You’re a dirty little pervert who looks at other women’s breasts,” June continued, implacably. “ But Sophie says you have some qualities to make up for all that. Among others, she said you were a great kisser. And we want to make sure of that. So you’re going to give each of us a kiss, and a good one. Remember, this is your tryout for marrying Sophie. If we don’t like what we get, things will get bad for you.”