We all look at Geek and Geeker, who are currently looking at their phones, ignoring the rest of us. Some subterranean part of their minds kicks in, like a second grader who realizes the classroom is a little too quiet, and they both look up, ostriches emerging from a hole in the ground.

“Advanteque Systems sent two of their primary developers here to help with specific coding and tech questions. Welcome Justin Rantz and Sanjay Mehta,” she adds.

Both grunt out something close to “Hello” and raise their hand as Chloe says their respective names. Sanjay looks at Carrie with more interest than he has any right to.

“Let’s get down to business. Carrie, it’s your floor.”

At the mention of Carrie’s name, Sanjay’s eyes widen and he does the once-over. I know exactly what he’s doing. Carrie is being graded.

“If you look at the outlines in front of you,” Carrie says confidently, pointing to our papers, “you’ll find the basic phone system that an O member will experience when they call the number:

Press 1 to schedule a massage appointment

Press 2 to request a master masseur

Press 3 to speak with a coordinator about bachelorette or divorce parties

Press 4 to purchase merchandise

Press 5 for device troubleshooting

Press 6 for an intimate chat with a master masseur

“Device troubleshooting?” Diane asks, her brow down with confusion. “What sort of device?”

“Sex toys,” Chloe answers cheerfully.

“Oh,” Diane says, her face turning a furious red, matching the bright lipstick she wears.

“That’s right!” Carrie says, a little too cheerfully. “O!”

I groan. Nick raises an eyebrow. Geek and Geeker don’t react.

“But,” Chloe adds, brow knitting, “if that term is too confusing, maybe we should simplify.”

“How about ‘battery-operated boyfriend’?” Zeke helps out.

“Marketing can handle name generation,” Nick adds smoothly, not taking the bait.

“We have the system set up in advance. All of the options except number six are free, and included in O club membership. Intimate conversations with master masseurs are a separate charge, and require a permission-based system,” Carrie continues.

“Opt-in,” Sanjay mutters.

“Right,” Carrie replies. “On multiple levels.”

“The operative word being ‘multiple,’” Zeke jokes.

Chloe shoots him a look that says, Really?

He just grins back.

Until Nick gives him a staredown.

“Clients are charged one-eighty per half hour for these conversations.”

Justin the developer lets out a choking cough and gives Carrie an incredulous look. “That’s more than Sanjay and I make!” He gives Zeke and me a glare of outrage. “To talk to a bunch of horny women?”

“You can only aspire to have my skill set one day,” Zeke declares, flexing a bicep.

Nick’s jaw tightens. Chloe just rolls her eyes. Carrie starts to panic. No one else in the room can tell, but I see it.

“Master coders don’t pull in $360 an hour,” Sanjay protests.

“Do you argue with all your clients like this?” Nick asks in a low, neutral voice that manages to sound more threatening than a shout.

Sanjay shuts up.

“Customers will have credit cards on file, and master masseurs can access a smartphone app to pull up the customer’s file for background information when they call. The point is to be a good listener. This is not phone sex,” Carrie clarifies.

“Wait. It’s not?” Justin looks up, long brown hair flopping over his face. He tucks it behind his ears, over the stems of his glasses.

“No. That is a hard no, too,” Carrie elaborates, staring at Zeke. “We could get shut down if we tried it.”

“Then what the hell are women paying $360 an hour for?” Sanjay asks in a voice that makes it clear the guy doesn’t get it.

“Companionship. A listener. The feeling that she gets a little piece of me to herself,” Zeke replies.

Justin and Sanjay just gawk.

“That’s so… stupid,” Justin finally blurts out.

“Welcome to reality, gentleman,” Zeke crows.

“Tuck the peacock feathers back in, Zeke,” Chloe whispers across the table.

“I’m just having fun with them,” he whispers back with a grin.

“I am going back to the office and asking for a raise,” Sanjay says, swiping on his phone.

“Can we get back to discussing the specifics of this project? You know, the one Anterdec is funding?” Amanda Warrick finally joins the conversation, her words cutting through. One eyebrow goes up, an expression like Chloe’s, and all eyes are on her.

Money always gets the eyes.

Except while everyone else is looking at Amanda, I’m looking at Carrie.

“The guidelines for intimate conversations have already been banged out,” she adds.

Zeke snickers. I kick him under the table. Sanjay yelps. Wrong foot.

I don’t care. Sanjay breaks his evaluation of Carrie. Two birds, one stone, all that.

“What we really need to concern ourselves with is the financial system and permissions-based aspect here. We don’t want regret to drive credit card chargebacks and disputes,” Carrie explains.

Justin gapes at her. “Huh?”

“We don’t want customers to claim they didn’t understand the expense of the call. So the tech side of this is clear.”

“Phone sex hotlines have a warning at the beginning. A pre-recorded message that informs the user of the exact charges, and they have to press one to accept, or two to decline,” Zeke says matter-of-factly.

We all just watch him.

“What? Everyone knows that,” he says defensively.

“We don’t want to be so… vulgar,” Chloe weighs in, her voice deliberative.

“O’s branding isn’t about sex,” Carrie adds.

Zeke starts laughing.

“Don’t make that mistake,” she emphasizes. “It’s about freedom. About owning who you are.” Chloe is watching Carrie with the look of a pleased mother. “We don’t want to cheapen the brand by making people equate this new phone system with 1-800-HAND-JOB.”

She spells out the last seven digits.