Occupational Hazzards
CHAPTER FOUR
I was recruited as the Cooper Organization's Lead
Disciplinarian following my retirement from the
military. Twenty years of service was enough for me;
especially considering the massive reductions in force
and a lack of a true mission following the collapse of
the Soviet Union--peace is hell. I conducted a
half-hearted, post-military job search routine but
found nothing in which I wished to re-career. After a
year of unemployment, I saw the following help wanted
ad in the business section of a Baltimore newspaper:
Former Military? Tired of the mundane? Ready to put
your
strong organizational and leadership skills back into
service? If you're loyal, intelligent, mentally and
physically
healthy; Reply to the Cooper Organization, P.O. Box
753,
Smythville, PA 19518 or FAX your resume to
1-800-323-9500,
attention Ms. Dana Simpson.
I realized the ad was sketchy but I certainly met the
stated qualifications so I faxed my particulars. I
received a phone call from Ms. Simpson the following
day. After the usual pleasantries, we discussed my
military experience and, at her request, I told Ms.
Simpson what I was looking for in a future career. In
turn, she described the Cooper Organization and it's
objectives. Ms. Simpson said that the Organization was
formed in 1975 by a group of investors to pool their
resources in establishing a group devoted to
maximizing the rewards of their leisure time. These
forward-thinking individuals saw the dawn of the
computer age as a golden opportunity to make large
profits while enjoying the finer things life had to
offer. The Cooper Organization was a private enclave
in the sparsely-populated hills of western Maryland.
The quality of life was outstanding. Ms. Simpson
stated the Organization was looking for a recruiter
and trainer for the members' personal assistants and
the club's staff at large. To get the right candidate,
the salary and benefits were completely negotiable
depending on what the candidate had to offer. Ms.
Simpson said she liked what she had read in my resume
and was encouraged by our brief phone conversation.
She invited me for an interview the following week.
The date was set for the first business day after
Labor Day, 1992. I arrived 15 minutes before the
appointed time of 0900 hours following a pleasant 2
hour drive west on Interstate 70.
The estate was impressive and rivaled any private, and
most public, facilities I'd ever seen. Although the
construction reflected classic architecture, the
immature landscaping revealed the facility was only
recently built. I wished my wife Shiela could have
seen the grounds. Shiela was essentially murdered by a
drunk driver in England in 1987. The estate looked
like the ones we used to explore on quiet weekends
while we waxed romantically about owning such opulent
property. We knew of course we'd never own anything so
expensive.
I parked my Chevy Berretta in one of three designated
visitor's slots at the apex of the gravel, circular
driveway. Upon entering the main door, a receptionist
named Jackie offered me a seat and coffee. She said
Ms. Simpson was aware of my arrival and would be right
with me. Within 15 minutes, Dana Simpson appeared. She
was tall with long, thick auburn hair and bright green
eyes. A hint of freckles ran from both her cheeks and
met at the bridge of her nose. While not a world-class
beauty, she was very striking and looked radiantly
healthy like a woman from some Irish soap television
commercials. She was dressed in a beige business suit
with tan high heels. She had lovely legs. She greeted
me warmly and invited me into her well-appointed
office immediately off of the reception area. We
exchanged niceties about the weather, my commute and
she listened to my too gushing comments concerning the
area and the facility.
As we sipped coffee, Ms. Simpson became more
business-like in her approach as she began the
interview in earnest.
Crossing her legs and looking into my eyes she said,
"Mr. James, I imagine that as a military officer, you
had ample opportunities to be a leader; however, how
are you at being a follower?"
I replied that my time was spent equally as a follower
as everyone has a boss and there are numerous
regulations and laws to which a military man must
adhere. Additionally, my survival training and
subsequent airborne experience taught me to function
well as a member of a team.
"That's good Mr. James. May I call you Travis?" she
asked.
"Of course," I replied. I remember thinking I'd gotten
off on a solid footing.
"Travis, as I told you on the phone, we're looking for
a recruiter and trainer for our members' staffs and
the Cooper Organization employees as a whole. As the
lead person, we would need you in residence here.
Suitable living accommodations are naturally provided.
The work is difficult in that it demands most of your
time and your complete loyalty to the Cooper
Organization. Give this loyalty and your efforts to
Cooper and your remuneration will be equivalent."
I was overwhelmed in that it seemed I was being
recruited to another vocation similar to the one I'd
just recently left. I was very curious as to the job
description as well as if Dana Simpson's skirt could
possible crawl up her thighs a bit more. I noticed her
knees were also freckled.
"Certainly a fair question Travis," she replied as she
tugged down on her hem, obviously reading my mind.
"Members of the Cooper Organization are wealthy
individuals who devote their lives to reaping the
benefits of capitalism. Additionally, they distribute
their financial gains to many philanthropic endeavors.
This enclave is the members' one place where they can
be themselves; an individual away from public scrutiny
and the demands of their commercial ventures."
"I'm afraid I still don't understand what my duties
would be," I asked.
"Our members, as do most powerful people, have certain
leisure activity needs that cannot be fulfilled in
normal society...discretion being an important
aspect..."
"Are you alluding to activity like a nudist camp?" I
queried implying for her to continue.
"Nudity, while a player, is not the prime activity.
The membership uses this facility to cater to their
sexual proclivities."
I was flummoxed and asked if I was applying for a job
in a bordello.
"Not at all," Ms. Simpson replied. "All activity that
occurs here is completely straightforward and no money
changes hands--except to pay our employees."
"What then would I be doing?" I again asked.
"Simply put, our members are primarily
Sado-masochists." Dana answered matter-of-factly.
"Geeze," I responded. "Ms. Simpson, again, where do I
fit in this organization? I don't know anything about
S&M!"
"Our members need somebody to take the lead in
training their partners and recruiting additional
willing individuals to participate--I assure you
Travis--nothing illegal occurs here. What does happen
here is discrete and in the best possible taste."
I told Ms. Simpson that I had about a thousand more
questions but needed some time to let what I'd already
been told sink in.
"I certainly understand. I had the same reaction
during my interview five years ago."
She invited me to follow her for a tour of the
facility. I saw expansive living rooms furnished with
expensive antiques. Bedrooms were lavishly furbished
in varied styles. Each bedroom had adjoining bathrooms
with large whirlpool tubs, towel heaters and bidets.
Billiard rooms, libraries, multi-media rooms and
gymnasiums rounded out the tour.
"Would you like to see our employees living
accommodations?" Dana asked.
I was dazzled to see the luxury condominium-style
employee quarters to the rear of the great house. The
living space was on par with that of the lieutenant
colonel military quarters I'd occupied. I noted
approximately 20 such sets of quarters with each villa
having near 2000 square feet of living space.
Following the tour of my potential digs, I asked Ms.
Simpson if I might speak with an employee with duties
similar to the ones I might be performing.
"Absolutely," she replied. "I think Jim is on break
this week."
"On break...for a week?" I asked.
"Yes, our operational people work three weeks then
have a week off...paid of course."
We found Jim Dubchek sitting on the deck behind his
villa. He was reading the newspaper and listening to
the classic music station out of Frederick, Maryland
on his oversized portable radio. Jim was tanned and
fit and looked to be a bit older than me judging by
the lines in his Slavic-featured face. He was stark
naked. Following introductions, Jim offered chairs and
poured Dana and I glasses of iced tea while he slipped
on a white cotton bathrobe.
"So, you could me my new boss soon, huh?" Jim stated.
"I'm certainly intrigued and was hoping you could fill
me in a bit on your daily regime," I replied. "I've
already explained to Ms. Simpson that I'm a total
square when it comes to S&M."
"The initial training was tough but well worth it. I'm
good at my job and, I believe, excel at customer
service." Jim said.
"I can certainly vouch for that," said Dana. "Jim has
been with us for eight years and works with some of
our most finicky members."
"Jim, would you please tell me exactly what you do," I
practically begged. "I must not be asking the question
right as I've yet to get a straight answer."
"I, and possibly we, help our members in the
successful pursuit of their leisure time,' said Jim.
"Specifically, we are the most highly trained and
specialized staff members here. Bottom line Travis: We
induce mutually agreed upon pain in the pursuit of
sexual satisfaction of the members of the Cooper
Organization."
Finally, I thought. They want me to lead a group of
torturers in an S&M establishment. I'd never thought
of myself, nor knew anybody, that society described as
kinky or perverted. I surely considered what I knew of
S&M to be both. I repeated my lack of what I assumed
were critical skills for this job to Dana and Jim.
"That's all right Travis, said Dana. "As the
Organization's disciplinarians, you are the ones to
administer the pain, not the ones to derive pleasure
from it. In fact, It's good that you aren't already
involved in standard S&M practices. It facilitates
professional distance and adds depth to our staff."
"As a matter of fact," added Jim, "I was into the
scene quite heavily in my younger days. But in the
last few years, its become just so much work for
me...kinda like the old gynecologist line: if you're
up to your elbows in it at work, you don't want to
mess with it at home."
Dana and Jim both chuckled at the analogy. I produced
a polite, confused smile. Dana stood and said she'd
leave Jim and I to talk for awhile and instructed Jim
to accompany me back to her office when were through.
Jim and I talked for nearly two hours. He explained
what he did and that his actions were okayed, even
welcomed, by his "victims". It was the proverbial
"different strokes for different folks." He told me
the pay and living conditions were fantastic as were
the benefits such as a retirement plan and medical
coverage. Jim was planning on retiring to Key West
within the year. The only drawback was the contractual
obligations which essentially placed a gag order on
the employee with stiff financial penalties should the
employee ever reveal anything concerning the nature of
his work or activities at the compound. In fact, you
could never say anything to anybody about any aspect
of the Cooper Organization in toto.
I was used to secrecy after 20 years in the military
so that contractual obligation wouldn't be a factor in
my deciding to take the job. What did bother me was
the knowledge that I'd be inflicting pain and, even
though the "victim" was agreeable, the notion was
abhorrent. However, I thought, maybe the idea of
inflicting pain was so foreign to me that I was just
unable to grasp how some people could enjoy it. But
Dana and Jim seemed absolutely normal. Besides, if the
situation got too creepy, I could haul ass and quit.
"Travis, tell you what," Jim said. "I'm conducting a
session in about an hour. Each "punishment room" as we
call them has an observation area. Why don't you watch
and then talk to the participants afterward. You'll
see there really is no problem. In fact, It's very
rewarding."
On to Chapter 5
