Page 91 of The Upgrade

“Are the consorts happy?”

Guess he’s eager for answers. “With everything except being called consorts.”

He frowns. “What would they rather be called?”

“No one offered suggestions.” Honestly, the consorts who said it seemed to be joking. “Between you and me, I doubt it’s an issue. They like to poke fun at the nomenclature, but it’s done with a certain fondness. They see Crystal Bliss as a comfortable place where they’re welcome to tease. Each other, themselves, the resort. Certain aspects of a rather…unconventionaljob.”

“I see.” He nods at the laptop in front of me. “Bring me up to speed.”

I spend a few minutes showing him tables and charts, explaining what I’ve observed and what’s still to come. There’s plenty more research to do, but Holyfield’s pleased with the progress I’ve made.

“And you enjoyed it yourself?”

I look up from the laptop. “Pardon?

“Serving as a consort. You found it…fulfilling?”

“Yes.” There’s a straightforward answer I’m hoping suffices.

But Ashton Holyfield just stares. He’s waiting for something. What, I’m not sure.

“I must admit,” he says finally, “it surprised me when you requested the hands-on experience. Not all research psychologists would have dedicated themselves quite so thoroughly to the job.”

“Yes, well…” I can’t tell from his tone if he’s judging. “I’ve found over the years that researching unconventional aspects of human behavior can require unconventional methods.”

“I see.” He studies my face. “Do you mind me asking how many guests you’veenchantedin the full sense of the term?”

There’s the tiniest lift at the edge of his mouth. Maybe he’s also amused by the lingo.

I clear my throat. “I’ve done the Sunblock Bliss Au Deux experience, one private massage, a dinner with an add-on enchantment, one threesome with a guest and a female consort, and the Bubble of Trouble.”

“That wasn’t the question.” He stares in silence for a few beats. “I’m asking about number of guests you’ve had intercourse with at the resort, Dr.—”

“One.” What the hell is he driving at? “I’ve had sex with one guest.”

“I see.” There’s that thoughtful head tilt again. “In your professional opinion, do most consorts seek out more personal bonds with the guests? Recurring interactions and what have you.”

Why is he asking these questions? This feels intensely personal, and yet…I’m the one who requested to work as a consort. He didn’t put me in this role.

Might as well give him what he wants. “I think it’s common for consorts to seek out intimate and unique connections with individual guests. To find pleasure in their jobs based on those connections.”

“And would you say, in your professional opinion, that the nature of this job—the requisite need to be intimate with dozens, maybe hundreds of partners—can result in a failure to achieve long-term intimacy?”

“I’m not sure I fol?—”

“To be blunt, would a man who had meaningless, no-strings sex with copious partners find himself permanently incapable of being a good husband or father?”

What?

What in the actual, ever-loving hell?—

“No.” That’s an easy one. “I believe consorts of any gender can seek out deep, meaningful, monogamous—or ethically non-monogamous—connections in the future if that’s what they wish for.”

Ashton Holyfield nods stiffly, but his shoulders slump with something that looks like relief. “I’m glad to hear it.”

“May I ask why?”

He looks startled by the question. For a very long time, he presses his lips together. Just when I think he won’t answer, he does.

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