‘You can take off your clothes.’ Walton glanced about the room and drummed his fingers against his chin. ‘I need to get things ready. I wasn’t prepared to run a test case today.’
With that, he left her. Tressa didn’t know whether to laugh or be grateful when the studious man practically forgot her. He began puttering around the desk, and she hesitantly reached for her clothes.
The insanity of it all made her numb.
What was she doing? She was the VP for a Fortune 500 company. Had she seriously just volunteered to be a test subject for sex research?
‘Modesty is unnecessary.’ The professor glanced her way, but then went back to unloading books off a medical table she hadn’t noticed before. ‘I want you to feel secure and open to new experiences.’
With a deep breath, Tressa took off her suit jacket. The top that she’d thought too low-cut went next, but her hands were sweaty as she reached for the clasp of her bra. The need to hide her nakedness became too strong to ignore. She turned her back on the professor and felt her face heat with embarrassment.
Just get it over with, she told herself. It was too late to back out now.
She yanked on the zipper of her skirt with shaking hands. At last, the only thing holding it up were her clenched fists. Taking a deep breath, she lowered the skirt and stepped out of it.
‘The shoes, too,’ Walton said. ‘It arouses some women to keep them on, but I need you comparable to my control case.’
God, could he be more clinical? Still, it was only that impartiality that allowed her to continue stripping. Soon, she was standing in nothing but her skimpy white panties – the ones Marco had liked so much. She looked down at them.
She simply couldn’t.
‘Here, let me assist.’ The professor was suddenly in front of her. Kneeling, he pulled her underwear down to her ankles.
‘Oh!’ Tressa gasped. The cool air touched her private parts, and her nakedness was suddenly overwhelming. She couldn’t take the intimacy. This man was a stranger and his face was practically in her crotch! She covered her breasts with a forearm as her other hand clamped over the light-coloured curls at the juncture of her legs.
‘I need to get some measurements.’ Walton walked to his desk and returned with a notebook, a pencil and a tape measure. ‘Lift your arms, please.’
Lift her arms? She didn’t think so! Remembering the situation, though, forced her to act through her shyness. By fits and starts, she held her arms out to the side. Conflicting emotions ran through her, and she didn’t know quite how she felt about this.
‘Are your nipples always this turgid?’
He flicked one with his pencil, and she jumped. ‘No, not always,’ she stammered.
Instinct made her reach for herself again, but Walton had already wrapped the tape around her and was measuring her bust.
‘I’ll make a note of it. To ensure consistency, next time I’ll have to manipulate them to arousal before I take my measurements.’
Her stomach sucked in hard. Next time? ‘This is a one-time deal.’
He looked at her over the top of his glasses. ‘Yes, well, one can never tell.’
What did he mean by that?
Tressa yelped when he crouched down in front of her to take another reading. She shifted as embarrassment filled her again, only this time the discomfiture was tinged with arousal.
The tape measure ran directly through her pubic hair, but the professor remained clinical in his evaluation. His nearly stoic behaviour was ironically sensual to her. Her body began to feel almost challenged to gain his attention.
‘You have a very nice shape, Ms Lang.’ He rolled the tape measure up in his hand. ‘You should do well in our experiments. Now, if you’ll please move onto the table, feet in the stirrups.’
She eyed the gynaecologist’s table with something close to dread, yet Walton seemed immune to her uneasiness as she climbed onto the table. He attached sensors to her chest and neck to monitor her temperature, heart rate and blood pressure. She leaned back but, when he moved to stand between the stirrups, her legs instinctively clamped closed. He waited patiently until she summoned the courage to lift one leg and place her foot in the metal support.
She froze when his gaze went straight to her pussy, but his academic mask was firmly in place. Suddenly, Tressa realised why she was so hesitant. He’d gotten her horny. With all his seeming disinterest and absent-minded touches, he’d aroused her.
It didn’t make her feel any better. Now, she was embarrassed that he’d see.
When she didn’t move, he caught her other ankle and shifted her into position. Vulnerability made her squeeze her eyes closed. Her pussy was bare and fully visible, but this man wasn’t her doctor or her lover.
‘Slide down closer to the edge of the table,’ he instructed.
The move forced her legs wider open, but even that didn’t meet with his approval. He adjusted the stirrups until her knees were spread and her hips were tilted. The position made her defenceless, and her heart began pounding like a big bass drum.
‘I need to touch you now,’ he said. ‘Please relax.’
It was impossible to relax as his hands settled on her inner thighs. Her muscles tightened almost painfully, yet he paid no attention to her resistance. Using his thumbs, he smoothed out the lips of her pussy. ‘You’re wet. Have you been excited sexually earlier today or are you becoming aroused?’
Her breaths were coming hard. He was looking right into the depths of her, yet Marco unwillingly came to mind. ‘Both,’ she said in a strained voice.
He slid a finger into her. She was unprepared for the penetration, and the muscles of her lower back contracted reflexively. ‘Ooooh,’ she moaned as her feet pressed hard against the stirrups.
‘That’s good.’ The professor removed his finger and wiped it on a towel. ‘You need to be aroused for the experiment to be effective. It will reduce the amount of lubricant I have to use.’
Tressa’s fingers curled into the paper sheet beneath her. Arousal was one thing, but she was fighting to keep it under control. For some reason, she felt she needed to stay at his level, which was purely observatory and analytical.
‘I have one more measurement to take before we begin the actual test,’ Walton said as he tinkered around his desk. ‘I should warn you that you may experience some discomfort.’
Her eyes widened when she saw him pick up a long cylindrical object. ‘What is that?’
‘I need to measure your vagina. Today’s designers have come up with a wide array of orgasmic manipulators, but I wouldn’t want to hurt you. The measurements will help me choose the most appropriate device for your pleasure.’
‘Oh.’ The air seeped out of her lungs. His clinical language reinforced her need to stay controlled, but as she looked at the tool, she didn’t know if she could stay objective. ‘How does it work?’
He showed her the markings. ‘This will measure the length that you are comfortable taking.’
He showed her a switch at the base of the instrument. When pressed, the device expanded. ‘Obviously, this will determine the breadth. It can cause some discomfort, but our studies have shown that this can be a key factor for females to achieve orgasm.’
‘I understand,’ she said inanely. Size mattered.
Once again, the banal little man stepped between her legs. Her hips automatically tilted and he nodded with approval. He tested her wetness with a swipe of his finger and decided to avoid the lubricant entirely. She felt the blunt end of the tool press against her a moment