>They call it the Juliette Society.
>And if I told you that I’d managed to penetrate, pardon my French, the inner circle of this club, would you believe me?
>It’s not as if I belong there. I’m a full-time third year college student. I major in film. I’m no one special.
>And, at this point, I’m not going to come across like such a smart-ass anymore. Because, in truth, the closest I had ever come to the seat of power was in my head.
>I have this recurring sexual fantasy. No, it’s not about fucking an old billionaire in his private jet over Saint-Tropez at thirty-five thousand feet. I can’t think of anything that would gross me out more. My fantasy, it’s much more down to earth – more mundane and intimate that that.
>A few times a week I’ll go to pick up my boyfriend after work and sometimes, when he’s there late and ends up being the last one there to lock up, I fantasise about fooling around a bit with him in his boss’s office – but we’ve never actually done it. Still, a girl can dream, can’t she?
>His boss is a senator. Or rather, a successful lawyer and would-be senator. And Jack, my boyfriend, is a staffer in his campaign office. As well as being an economics major. So I fantasise about playing my part as the dutiful girlfriend.
>But I’m getting off the point. The point is, I had no business whatsoever being there, at the Juliette Society, among those people. And I didn’t exactly answer an ad or go to a job interview to gain entry to it.
>Let’s just say I had a talent, a persuasion, a hunger.
>And I was spotted.
>We could argue back and forth forever about nature or nurture, but this talent, it’s not something I was born with. At least not that I’m aware of. No, this is something I realised. But it has been with me for a long time, hard-coded, buried like a switch in a sleeper agent, and only recently turned on.