chapter 1

I looked around at the other people in the cavern, no more than twenty in total, with fascination as the dancing flames of the flickering torches gave their faces demonic shadows. Hoping that this was not a bad omen, I looked up at the man standing on the platform. His face was covered by an oversized brass skull mask; all I could see were his eyes which stared at me expectantly.
As a hush fell across the group, I took a deep breath and began to tell my story.

I have - possibly - one of the greatest jobs in the world; but I guess I would say that! So, as you are the judge, let me tell you what I do and then you can tell me whether you agree with my statement. You see, I get paid a lot, and I do mean A LOT, to date women, and when I find the right one... well, I am getting ahead of myself here.

First, a bit of background: As you can see, I am not the best looking guy in the world, but I can afford to splash out. This designer suit, this expensive watch, the sports car which you can see on these photographs here... they all give promises of a lifestyle which attract a certain type of woman - the sort who would not look at me twice were it not for my apparent success. That's great though, because that is just the sort of woman I need. As I said, I date them; find out about them and if they match the very specific check list from my employers, I deliver them. If my employer is satisfied, I am well paid and even claim back my expenses - that's why I always use my platinum card for our dates. Plus of course, that adds to the illusion of my success and pulls them into the trap just a little bit more. As I told you - it's probably one of the greatest jobs in the world.

What happens to them after delivery? I don't know; I don't care to be honest. Well, more accurately, I didn't care until I met Carolyn, and really, that is how this story starts.

I'd just watched the plane take off from Heathrow airport. The woman - I don't even remember her name, so let's call her Jane - wouldn't find out that I was not on it for a few hours yet, and then it would be too late. Jane said that I was "so sweet" for giving up my first class seat to the elderly passenger and taking her place in economy, but of course, the old lady was one of my people. I paid for her first class flight to see her family in Australia several times a year. She just had to keep the woman in the seat next to her distracted long enough for me to leave the plane and for it to get into the air. I knew that Jane would be met at the other end and the next part of her journey was whatever happened to her next and not my problem. I didn't ask questions; I just expected payment in forty eight hours or so and then a bonus after a few months. I had no idea what the bonus was for; but sometimes it was a huge amount and I wasn't going to argue about that.

Feeling satisfied and pleased with myself for a job well done, I decided to get a coffee before heading home. It is a four hour drive, mainly on motorways, so I wanted a caffeine hit, just to help keep alert. It was in the queue at Costa that I first noticed Carolyn and straight away, I knew she hit the initial criteria for my employer.

Carolyn was young - relatively speaking. I had a very specific age gap to aim for and under eighteen was definitely forbidden. This was instant dismissal and it was made very clear that "dismissal" would be permanent. Terminally so! I naively thought this was some sort of moral decision, although later I discovered that when somebody under eighteen disappears, they are quickly missed: parents, schools, colleges and friends start asking questions and making a fuss. My employers don't want that hassle, hence the strict enforcement of the rule.

Having said that, the maximum age is twenty-two. On occasion, they will go up to twenty-five, but there have to be very special circumstances because eighteen to twenty two is the age bracket where people go to university, leave their hometowns and often make new starts. They lose contact with their childhood friends and can easily get lost. Carolyn could not have been older than nineteen and when she spoke, the accent was North American, possibly Canadian. She appeared to be alone in what, to her, was a strange and foreign land. I needed to know more, but it was too soon to approach her directly. I kept my distance and remained inconspicuous as I ordered a coffee, carefully selected a seat in the corner of the cafe and took out a book on advanced mathematics. Nobody ever disturbed me when I was reading that!

Carolyn was seated more towards the centre of the cafe, so from my position, I could look directly at her over my book and nobody would know, especially Carolyn herself. I had a perfect view of her - she was not facing me, but not quite in profile. I stretched out my legs and casually turned the page of my book as she looked in my direction, but as I had hoped, she did not even register that I was watching her. I began to mentally mark what other items I could on my employer's checklist.

I would not call Carolyn attractive because that is not a strong enough description and although beautiful is not a word I use very often, this was certainly one of those occasions when I would! She had long red hair; genuine ginger, not the dyed purple-auburn which seemed very much in fashion at the time. It was swept back from her forehead and cascaded over her shoulders, framing her face. It appeared totally natural and disorganised, but in such a perfect way that it was clear she had spent a lot of time on the look.

Her skin was pale with a faint smattering of freckles across her nose, and her clear blue eyes twinkled with the excitement of somebody at the beginning of an adventure. Another hint that she was alone as she did not have an air of expectation; she did not appear to be waiting for anybody. Her makeup, like her hair, was perfect. Dark eye-liner started off thin and gradually thickened across the top of her eyes, ending up with a flick towards her temples in calculated symmetry, and her deep red lipstick was bold but just not quite bright enough to be too much. This sort of attention to appearance was certainly what my employers wanted.

I turned the page again and put the book on the table, rubbing my head as though concentrating on a particularly difficult issue, but in reality, it was so I could get a better look at her body. This was when I started to get really excited. One of the strangest things on my employer's checklist was "Must show promise". When I first started working for them, I had no idea what this meant, but I had a mentor those first few shaky times who showed me what to look for.

"Breasts and bums," he told me. "Always observe the breasts and bums."

"Well, I am a man," I laughed. "I do that anyway."

My mentor smiled at me nodded patiently. "A woman will do her best to hide a belly," he explained. "Especially the type of woman we need. But she will not be able to hide a rounded bottom, and she will not want to hide her ample breasts." It still did not explain what "Must show promise" meant, and I didn't really get what it had to do with a belly, but I followed his advice and had been getting really good bonuses, so I just accepted it as correct. Using my mentor's test, Carolyn would be my biggest bonus yet! She certainly wasn't overweight, but neither was she skinny. Her rear was rounded and so tightly packed into her jeans that when she bent down to pick up her bag, the denim stretched and the seams looked ready to burst. Also, as my mentor had suggested, she wore a tight fitting low cut top which showed just enough of her cleavage to arouse interest from every man that walked past.

So Carolyn had met almost all of the criteria: she was young, attractive, could go missing without attracting too much attention and "showed promise" by my mentors rules. Now I just had to find out whether, as I suspected, her vanity would lead her into dating me when she saw the lifestyle I had and could promise her. Once she was in that trap, she was as good as on the plane, and was money in my bank.