Conversation," he smiled. "I think of it as an ice-breaker."I looked at him with some suspicion. I looked back at the file. "This even lists the clubs...and groups that I was involved with at Stanford," I said, getting more uncomfortable.He nodded, no smile this time. "That was in your year book. When we interviewed you, you were the most likely candidate. That's when I was asked to do the background check and that's why you didn't hear from us for three weeks. You came up aces, so you were. This Centre wasn’t about training wealthy males to be merely accomplished lovers and charmers. That was just how they reeled us in — through our penises. It was about training and bonding mates . . . in a unique and likely lasting way. Samantha was all I wanted now. I was her stallion, and she was my mare. — — — — — As I brought my bride home — clothed — my aunt met us at the Los Angeles airport. “Your uncle,” Aunt Monica said to me, “he was my stallion . . . trained him twenty one years. More

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