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front-end of the intake process, I still have no idea what happens on the back-end of it—that is, after a member receives his welcome package. And I admit, I really, really want to know.
    What did The Club deliver to Josh during his membership period? Who were the women and what were they like? Did he see any of them repeatedly? Did he form emotional attachments to any of them? What the heck did they do to him/with him/for him that he felt he couldn’t get outside the clandestine walls of The Club ? Did he ever suspect what was really going on—that these women were hired to say and do and be whatever he’d requested in his application—or did he buy the entire fantasy, hook-line-and-sinker? And if he did suspect the truth about these women, did he care?
    And, of course, the granddaddy question of them all, the thing I’m dying to know more than anything else (though I’m not proud to admit it): What did Josh request in his frickin’ application in the first place? Color me curious, I gotta know.
    My educated guess is that, given Josh’s good looks and penchant for exploring the world, he’s one of those world traveler/tycoon/professional-athlete types who joined The Club as a simple and expeditious means of finding good sex and compatible companionship wherever he happened to roam—as opposed to being a wack job looking for bukkake or for someone to poop on his face. But, hey, maybe Josh isn’t what he appears to be. Perhaps there’s something more wack jobby about him than initially meets the eye. I can’t help but wonder. And judging by the look on Kat’s face, she can’t help but wonder, either—oh my goodness, yes, it’s quite clear to me little miss Kitty Kat’s wondering herself into a frenzy right now.
    I’m not surprised by that zealous twinkle in Kat’s eye, to be honest. From the moment Kat found out about my intake agent job, she’s tried relentlessly (though unsuccessfully) to pry every juicy detail out of me about every application I’ve processed. And it wasn’t my intake agent job that ignited Kat’s sexual curiosity—she’s always been this way.
    As long as I’ve known her, Kat’s been the boy-crazy one of the two of us, sexually supercharged from an early age, for some reason not shackled by the usual hang-ups and inhibitions that seem to plague other girls, including me. Before Jonas came into my life, I used to watch Kat glide through her interactions with members of the opposite sex and marvel about her supernatural confidence and almost masculine libido. But now that Jonas has “unlocked” me, I have a totally different perspective. In fact, my post-Jonas self might even give Kitty Kat a run for her sexually supercharged money.
    I glance at Kat—and when I see her flushed and tantalized face, I suddenly worry my facial expression matches hers. If that’s the case, if I look half as revved up as she does right now, then I’m going to hell in a handbasket. Intellectual curiosity or not, no matter how innocent or anthropological in nature my wonderings might be, I absolutely can’t be thinking about my boyfriend’s brother’s sex life. Period. I can’t indulge my sexual curiosity, intellectual or otherwise, with or about anyone besides my sweet Jonas—and least of all not regarding his twin brother. I just have to let it go. Some things are not meant to be known by me. Boom. Truth. But that doesn’t mean Kat has to let it go, not at all. And by the look on her face, she doesn’t plan to.
    The next thing I observe during Jonas’ telling of his saga occurs to me precisely when he gets to the “and then it turned out Stacy was a fucking prostitute” part of his story. Whereas Jonas quite obviously feels acute humiliation and even suppressed rage all over again simply by talking about the fiasco, Josh on the other hand seems oddly calm about the whole thing. Amused, even. He’s certainly in no danger of escaping into the bathroom to process his emotions or punch a