Ada laughed. “Oh, gosh, no. Don’t worry, we’re not studying the effects of caffeine addiction on stress management or anything like that. Not this time, anyway.”
Melissa settled into the uncomfortable, hard-backed chair. “In that case, I’ll take a Coke on the pysch department’s dime.”
“No problem.” Ada looked up as her partner Randy came in. “Can you grab Melissa a soda?”
“Sure thing.” Randy nodded at her and returned a moment later with a can of store-brand cola. “Good to see you, Melissa, how’s it going?”
They got through the small talk quickly enough. Randy and Ada were stereotypical research nerds, albeit with slightly better social skills, but they weren’t really interested in chitchat. They were all business as they handed Melissa the paperwork she was accustomed to filling out to take part in the experiments. Health history, release forms, information on how she wanted to be paid. And then….
“Wow,” Melissa said, looking over the questionnaire. It was by far the most extensive they’d ever asked her to fill out, at least ten pages long compared to the more standard two or three. And by far the most…intimate.
“You didn’t know what you were signing up for?” Randy asked.
Melissa shrugged. “When I called to make the appointment, they didn’t tell me and I didn’t ask. I just figured I know you guys. And I need the money.”
Randy and Ada gave each other a look, and Ada shifted in her chair. She looked serious. “The reason we chose you as one of the participants, and believe me, Melissa, there were a lot more applications than we’re used to getting, was because we’ve worked with you before.”
Melissa nodded, glancing again at the information they were requesting. Number of sexual partners, frequency of sexual activity, current birth control methods, a more extensive health history including STD testing release forms. “Yeah, I figured that, but…this is….”
Randy cleared his throat. “This isn’t quite the same as the time we tested you on the porn stuff, though it is going toward our overall thesis materials. This time, Ada and I are interested in studying sexual attraction and reactions. Is the desire to have sex with someone based on something purely physical, mental, spiritual or a combination?”
Melissa didn’t really care what the purpose of the tests were. She just wanted the money. But looking over the information on the questionnaire, unease tiptoed through her. “You want to know what sort of man attracts me? All these physical characteristics, personality traits, stuff like that? My attitude toward casual sex?”
She paused. “Is there more to this experiment than this questionnaire?”
Ada nodded. “Well…yes.”
Melissa blinked. No wonder the pay rate was so much higher this time. “You want me to have sex with someone for this test?”
Randy smiled. “We’ve set up an increasingly intimate series of encounters in which we’d like you and the additional research participant to engage. You’ll be provided the space in which to engage in these activities, as well as the time frame, along with specific instructions on how to report on your experiences.”
Melissa’s eyebrows raised. “You want me to have sex with someone!”
“What we’re trying to determine,” Ada said, eyes bright and cheeks pink, “is the effect of predetermined qualities or anticipation on sexual attraction and response.”
“In other words,” Randy said excitedly, “we’re going to pair you up with someone based on all of your information, and we’re going to see how long it takes you to want to fuck!”
Melissa started laughing. Hard. Randy and Ada looked at each other, back and forth, smiling but looking quizzical.
“Are you serious?” Melissa asked.
They were totally serious. Her laughter faded as she stared at them, expecting one or the other to announce this was it, she’d passed the first phase of the experiment, whatever it was. But as Randy and Ada merely looked at her without even taking a single note, Melissa realized they meant every word they’d said.
“You’re going to pay me a thousand bucks to introduce me to someone you want me to sleep with.” She said this carefully, making sure she got everything straight.
“The choice, ultimately, is yours,” Ada said. “We can’t obviously pay you to have sex with someone. That would be illegal. We’re just paying you to agree to…um…well, to engage in specific activities within a certain time frame, designed to encourage the sexual response.”
“And if I meet the guy and don’t want to have sex with him, what then?” Melissa wasn’t entirely put off by the notion of sex with a hot stranger, chosen to meet her every specification. Hell, she’d had more than a few dates that had been with guys who were little better than trolls, and during her longest dry spells she’d actually considering sleeping with one or two of them.
“We’ll ask you to record your feelings and emotions relating to the decision to have sex or not to have sex, and everything will be taken into consideration. On his end, too,” Randy explained. “I mean, maybe he won’t want to sleep with you.”
Melissa blinked again. Randy wasn’t exactly the most subtle shade of pink in the spectrum, so she couldn’t really take offense, even though it had been her experience that most men would sleep with just about anything. And she was far from just anything. Maybe she wouldn’t win a beauty pageant, but then she’d never be the sort to enter one, either.
“And how long is this experiment?”
“Five nights. You begin a week from Monday—that will give you enough time to fill out the paperwork and get all your health records updated. Every night from six to ten p.m., here at the lab.” Ada tapped her pen against the paper. “Once you’ve signed up, in order to get your payment you’ll have to complete the sessions for all five nights and record your impressions of the experience. You’ll drop off the reports every day before noon. Of course what, exactly, you do during the experiment is up to you. I mean, we really can’t make you, um….”
“We just want to find out how long it takes you guys to decide if you’d like to bang like a screen door in a hurricane,” Randy put in.
Melissa quickly looked over the list. Five sessions, with increasing levels of “intimacy.” She’d once slept with a man she’d known for two hours—what would she want to do with one after twenty?
“What if, at the end of it, we don’t have sex?” Melissa asked, shrewdly, she thought, because there was no way she was going to agree to all this if there was any chance at all she might be stiffed out of the cash at the end because she refused to allow a strange guy to put his penis inside her.
“As long as you complete every session through until the end and fill out all the accompanying reports, you’ll be paid.”
“And if he bails?” Melissa asked, wanting to be just that much extra sure.
“You’ll still be paid as long as you complete the requirements,” Randy assured her.
Melissa looked down at the papers in front of her. She thought of her bank account, and of the thousand bucks that would go a long way toward making her life all that much more comfortable. And for what—the possibility she might have to get hit on by some guy she could ultimately turn down if she really wanted to? She picked up her pen and started writing.
“I’ll do it.”
Hair: blond. Eyes: blue. Bra size? Matt paused at that one. Did he want to be honest and admit he was a total dick, say 34 DD? Or did he want to pretend something like that didn’t matter. Hell. He scribbled 34 D, dropping the extra D just to keep himself from being a complete douche bag. Height, weight, hobbies. This was a lot like those two geeks