Cautionary Tales by Piers Anthony

Your needs will be provided.”
    Huh? “But I haven’t even—”
    He stopped, because the connection was dead.
    He looked at the ad again. The Queen met his gaze and slowly nodded. She expected to see him soon in person.
    Maybe it was a trap. But it would have been easier to mug him in an alley. Why go to this much trouble, for so indifferent a prospect? And that Queen of Hearts—he was already smitten with her. Just thinking of her made him stiff. He had to find out, even if it was destined to be a severe disappointment. It wasn’t as if he had anything better to do this summer.
    The flight was two hours, and it was first class, with no other passengers in the section. Jack was served a very nice dinner. He had no idea where he was going; somehow the boarding pass hadn’t said. He wanted to ask the stewardess, but she was always busy elsewhere. What would he say, anyway? “Duh—where am I going?” He would surely find out soon.
    The plane landed and he disembarked. There was a cabby with a placard bearing Jack’s name. He followed that man to his vehicle. “If you don’t mind my asking, where—”
    â€œSoon,” the man said gruffly. And that was it.
    The cab had opaque windows, showing nothing outside. Jack still had no idea where he was or where he was going. As job interviews went, this was mysterious.
    When the cab stopped, the cabby opened the door and Jack got out. He was before the deluxe edifice addressing a spacious golf course. “I didn’t come to play golf!” he protested. “I don’t even know how!”
    â€œJust get your ass over to the first hole,” the cabby said. “She’s expecting you.” He got into his car and drove away.
    Jack, feeling weirdly out of sorts, skirted the building and found the marked first hole. It was in a pretty glade, a verdant green surrounded by manicured bunkers. A woman stood there expectantly. Her luxuriant hair was black, fastened in place by a small black crown, and her robe was elegantly worked with designs of clubs. Golf clubs.
    â€œAh, you are the Knave,” she said. “Right on time.”
    â€œUh, I guess I’m applying for the position, yes,” Jack agreed. “But I don’t know—” He broke off, because suddenly he recognized the woman, in a manner. Except that her hair was not red. “You’re the Queen! Only—”
    â€œThe Queen of Clubs,” she said. Now he saw that she held a golf club, and had several golf balls. She was practicing shots.
    â€œBut it was the Queen of Hearts I was supposed to—I mean—the ad—”
    â€œAll in good time,” she said. “First I must interview you.”
    â€œUh, yes, of course. But I don’t even know what the job is. They didn’t tell me, just set me up for a journey here. Wherever here is.”
    â€œTo be sure,” she agreed, not taking the hint about location. “There are things we need to know about you.”
    â€œI answered all the questions they asked.”
    â€œSome questions can’t be asked directly. Are you ready for the interview?”
    â€œI guess so. But—” He broke off again, for she had just stepped out of her robe. She stood before him naked, a lovely figure of a young but mature woman. He noticed incidentally that her pubic hair was the same shade of black as her head hair, and just as appealing.
    â€œRemove your clothing,” she said.
    â€œBut—”
    She frowned. “Are you refusing the interview?”
    â€œNo! I just—what is this job?”
    â€œYou’re shy, aren’t you,” she said as if remarking on the timidity of a child.
    â€œWell, I suppose—”
    She put her hands on him and started removing his clothing. He just stood there, letting her do it, not knowing how to protest further.
    â€œYou seem reticent.” She set aside his shirt.
    â€œBut suppose