Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 80699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
“What the fuck?” I whispered, as if I didn’t want even my phone—or Selecta, through my phone—to hear. It got worse, though.
Note that associate members at the platinum level are required to post intimate photos. See the Platinum page for details.
I put my phone away and stared out the window. The bus stopped somewhere in Utah. There were a dozen or so of us, four or five of them young women about my age who had the same air I supposed I did, of mild dislocation. We didn’t speak, but I assumed they, too, had gotten caught up in the Selecta system and were on their way to LA for the same reason.
The rest of the passengers were men who looked like low-level management types or maybe veterans—or both. At the rest stop, I overheard snatches of a conversation between two of them: they had discovered that they were headed for the same Selecta water reclamation facility in Nevada, and they talked quietly about how good the pay would be, in comparison to what they could find in the Midwest.
“The megacorps, you know,” one of them said. “Say what you want, but they know how to run things.”
I watched a stupid action movie on my phone between Utah and Nevada. I had five rom-coms downloaded, but I refused to watch any of them because I knew they would make me think about Selecta Arrangements, and what would happen when we got to Beverly Hills. Could I still ask to be let off in East LA?
I couldn’t concentrate on the movie. I kept looking around at the other girls, all of them sleeping or watching videos like me. Were they going to Beverly Hills too?
The two water-reclamation guys got off in Nevada, soon after we crossed the border. My phone said we were thirty miles northeast of Las Vegas. Three of the young women got off there too, to my surprise. I thought I saw one of the water guys checking out the girls, and I wondered whether Selecta had programs within programs within programs—all designed to ensure the satisfaction of the affluent male consumer.
Most of all, it seemed, the platinum-level male consumer.
As the bus pulled away, headed for California, I stopped the movie on my phone and went back to the Selecta Arrangements FAQ. My heart raced as I tapped the Platinum page.
It appeared the app had anticipated the force of my curiosity.
Welcome to Platinum, Leah! it said cheerily. As a pre-selected platinum-level associate member, you’re going to have access to a range of potential sponsors who are looking for someone very special. These men at the comfort and luxury levels have paid extra to have the opportunity to meet you, and all you need to do is follow a few extra guidelines to make sure your profile reaches their inboxes in our daily SA Platinum email.
We know from our extensive market research that many of our wealthiest members read the SA Platinum email every day. You don’t want to miss this opportunity, Leah!
Tap here for the details and requirements.
My mouth had twisted firmly to the left side of my face as I read, trying to puzzle out the doubtless embarrassing meaning behind the sales-speak. When I tapped, though, and saw the details and requirements, I didn’t have to puzzle any further.
In order to attain, and to maintain, platinum-level associate membership, you must:
1. Fulfill the maintenance standard for gold (standard) associate membership: go on at least one date per two-week period (if any are requested by one or more member(s)), and have no more than two unresolved complaints from members.
That sounded a little ominous, but since Selecta saw fit to provide a subsidy, I couldn’t see much reason to object. Things got dicier from there, however.
2. Schedule an intimate photoshoot, in the comfort of your Selecta Housing apartment, with a Selecta-certified photographer (all photographers are female professionals), and post at least three photos from that shoot on your profile.
The app even put a helpful link there: Schedule My Photoshoot.
I thought about the post in the official forums, from AZHotty. How blasé her reply had seemed: Did I say I didn’t do the nude pics?
For a moderate sponsor—who then, if I believed it, turned out to be a billionaire. Whereas on the ‘platinum-level’ all the men seeing me in their daily email would be wealthy.
Keep it positive, girls!
I felt my frown get so deep I thought I might get wrinkles. I kept reading.
3. Agree in advance to abide by your sponsor’s rules, if any, and to accept his chosen discipline, if any. (Platinum-level sponsors are invited to submit a schedule of rules and disciplinary measures. You will be able to see that schedule on their profiles, if they message you.)
I realized I had started to shake my head slowly back and forth. I almost felt like the worst part was knowing I had the choice—I could get off in East LA, or I could go to Beverly Hills but not do the weird, mortifying platinum thing.