Have the officer escort you to the main house.

"Now here's what I want you to do," your agent says on the mobile phone, the sounds of a party loud in the background. "I'll have the guard escort you to the main house. As long as you're here, there are a few people I'd like you to meet briefly. You can probably even make it to your party if you want."

"Mm-hmm," you say. Katherine nods in relief when you tell her what's up. Then your agent asks to speak to the officer and you hand back the mobile phone to her. She speaks briefly on the phone, watching you through her mirrored glasses as she talks, then hangs up. She takes her car key and puts it on a post next to the dimly lit building where you're stopped.

"Unlock the back," she says, "I'll direct you to the main house." You pop the automatic lock, and she gets in behind you. Another guard walks up from the shadows and takes the key she left. She directs you forward along the road, still flanked by trees. Katherine keeps nervously glancing round to look at her. As the guard gives you directions to take a turn, she leans close to the back of your neck. You feel her warm breath tickle your ear. She keeps her head close to yours as you climb a gentle hill. When you round a turn, you see lights glimmering on the terraced grounds of a hilltop mansion in Mediterranean style. "Park here," she says as you approach an arched metal gate. You park beside an electric utility cart.

The guard leads you and Katherine up a paved path to a side door, through a tiled corridor, and across a courtyard to an arched wooden door. She knocks twice to announce you, then opens the door and motions you in. As you step up to enter, she turns and you bump right into the seat of her pants, smack over your cock. You look up, but her face is expressionless. She steps aside before Katherine enters.

Inside is a room furnished richly with cushioned dark leather, brass, and polished wood all over. There's a table covered with green felt in the middle. You're happy to see your sports agent there, wearing a big grin, as well as a couple of older fellows. There are cards on the table, but it looks like they've been going over some papers together. Your agent jumps up to greet you.

"Hey boy, looking good!" he says, shaking your hand and slapping your shoulder. "And you're the lovely Katherine. Charmed, charmed," he gushes. "You're just in time to meet our host, Mr. Carthan." He nods to a bald man seated in a leather armchair, wearing a white suit. Mr. Carthan nods to you. His lips curl in what might be a smile. "And Mr. Morris," your agent continues, looking at the pinch-faced man in the other chair. Morris squints up and looks you over. You get the feeling he's doing sums in his head as he eyes you. "Morris, this is my rising star!" your agent says. "Don't look at him that way!" Morris coughs but doesn't change his expression. "But hey," your agent says to you, "you said you were on your way to get pictures together. We have a great photographer here at the party! Let's do that for you, we can talk a little business, and get you on your way." He leads you both out of the room and into a large hall with white-draped tables full of rich food and fancy decorations. You hear splashing from somewhere outside, through the open terrace doors.

The photographer, Miss Dill, is a wiry little woman with short gray hair and a smooth, ageless face. She laughs and chatters at you, and Katherine starts to relax and laugh along with her, pinching you when you don't get a joke. The photographer seems quite taken with you and Katherine. She runs round with you and poses you in front of a basket of orchids, an ice sculpture, and a modernistic statue. When your agent comes back, Katherine's happy to go along with Miss Dill and meet some of her acquaintances.

As promised, it's a short meeting. Carthan and Morris ask you questions about your sports record, your agent nodding along with your answers. They flip through some papers. Mr. Carthan says, "Thank you. We'll be expecting to hear a lot more from you, young man." He smiles, then looks at the door behind you. "Sadie!" he calls. The woman guard in her mirrored sunglasses steps up to Mr. Carthan. He motions for her to bend down, and he whispers in her ear.

Her head jerks up slightly. "Yes, sir," she says. She leads you toward the courtyard door.

"Bye, sport!" your agent calls. The door closes, and you're alone with Sadie in the dark courtyard. She motions for you to follow her.

"Mr. Carthan," she begins, "would be pleased to offer you and your date a ride in his personal limousine, wherever you want to go tonight. Perhaps a dramatic entrance at your dance, he said." She walks close beside you in the tiled corridor.

"My car?" you say.

"We'll drop it off where you want to go," she said. She opens a low door with a key and pauses beside it. Inside seems to be a storage room for furniture. It all seems to be soft, thickly plush and velvety; probably used in the wintertime. You look at her, puzzled by the stop. "Outside my professional capacity," she says. "I've followed your sports record with interest." You raise your eyebrows. "I was at your last game," she said. "You should have waited one more second."

You give her a rueful look. "True enough. Coach gave me quite chewing out."

She leans on the doorframe and takes off her sunglasses. Her eyes are a startling light golden color. You get a shiver as she stares openly at you, looking you up and down. "I don't get out much," she said, "so I have to make the best of occasions. If I may be direct, I don't think we'll be missed for another twenty minutes, and I'd like to spend that time getting to know you better." She unsnaps the buckle on her belt, and looks you in the eyes. "I won't mind if you want to play the gentleman. But if you'd like to accept my offer, you have to make the next move."