Suzanne Mellows - The sex experiment

It would be good to see Helen again, the scientist thought as he gazed at his own blurred reflection in the window of the train. He was hanging by a strap, swaying back and forth in more or less the same rhythm as his fellow travelers. He hadn't seen Helen in days now. Well, he'd seen a lump in the living room sofa. But that was all. Helen refused to sleep in the same bed with him since he'd so brutally raped her anally several days before. He didn't blame her really, and yet there was something infuriating about the gesture. He wanted to force her to come back and sleep in the bed with him. Perhaps this evening they could discuss it. Perhaps tonight, he would even give her a taste of that romance she was always looking for.

Things were going well at the "lab". Adam felt more relaxed about the entire project now that it had gotten in full swing so to speak. His researches had given in invaluable information about the various reactions in human beings to sexual stimuli. He was sure that when his book was published, his true genius would be recognized by the world.

"Helen? Helen?" Adam called out as soon as he let himself into the apartment. There was no answer. He hung up his coat and hat and went straight to the kitchen. Usually he had something at the coffee shop where Susi worked, but now it was getting uncomfortable going in there. She was always pestering him to let her come by the lab. He'd given in once or twice and let her have a work-out on the machine in the afternoon between his classes. But as far as his research was concerned, he had no more to learn from Susi. Better to eat elsewhere for awhile or to eat at home.

Adam looked at the stove. Nothing at all cooking on it. Just the spotless white of the metal with the black grids. No good smell of soup or perhaps a roast. How long had it been, he wondered, since Helen had cooked him dinner? He supposed he couldn't really blame her, since he never came home at a decent eating hour. But somehow he did blame her! The scientist moved to the refrigerator and opened the door. There to his amazement he saw that it was filled to overflowing with gourmet food items. The large freezer compartment was stuffed with things like frozen pizza, cream puffs, chocolate eclairs, Chinese spare-ribs, and spinach souffle. In the refrigerator itself was a hodge-podge of expensive meat cuts, out of season fruits and vegetables, milk and cream, red, white and rose wines as well as two bottles of imported champagne.

"What the Hell?" Adam had never seen so much food in the house. Usually he cautioned his wife against getting too much at a time since they weren't generally big eaters and he was often away anyway. She'd always shown good judgment about such matters before. But what had gotten into her now?

Puzzled, Adam closed the refrigerator door after taking out a Stouffer's frozen chicken in wine sauce. He turned on the oven and put the light aluminum package in. Then he went through all the rooms looking for his wife, but she was nowhere to be found. Returning to his study, Adam sat down to wait for the frozen dinner to be ready, and for Helen to return.

When finally he heard a click in the lock, Adam could feel a definite change in his attitude toward his wife. "Where has she been!" he wondered, perhaps for the first time.

He stood up from his desk and went out to the hall. Helen was trying to close the door behind her and was having difficulty due to her many packages. She had already put the flowers down on the hall table and was pushing the door dosed with her foot while clasping the bakery items and the magazines.

"Helen!"

Surprised, she looked up to see that her husband was standing watching her with a mixture of curiosity and something else she could not quite read.

"Yes?" the young wife said calmly, composing herself enough to remember just how she wanted to treat her husband. She busily gathered up the flowers and made her way into the living room with them. Then she took the bakery packages into the kitchen. She'd gotten some of that wonderful German butter cake, and some coconut cream pie.

Helen was aware of the fact that her husband was following her from room to room, and she tried to act as if she were completely unaware of his presence.

It wasn't until she had taken off the short little jacket that turned her new dress into a two-piece suit and had begun to arrange the tulips and roses she'd bought at the corner in vases that Adam hit the ceiling.

"What is that dress you're wearing?" he screamed, noting that his wife's lushly swaying breasts almost fell out as she bent over a vase. "And those shoes?" he was seeing them for the first time. "Good God, you look like something from outer space!" he cried, his face turning purplish with rage. "And what is all this crap around? All that junk in the ice-box?"

"Refrigerator!" Helen correctly, coldly, even though she could feel her eyes beginning to mist up and her hands beginning to shake as she finished her arrangement of flowers. "Ice-box is so old fashioned!"

"Have you gone crazy? What about the money? I'm not a millionaire you know!"

"I'm getting a job. I'll pay for everything myself," Helen said, her lower lip trembling. She left the living room hurriedly, and Adam followed close on her heels.

"Stop moving! Stop and talk to me!" he cried, waving his arms about.

"Why should I stop moving? Why should I talk to you when you never talk to me?" Helen said, tight-lipped. And she kept on moving, going to the dresser, sitting down, easing off her shoes, which caused her feet to ache a bit.

"All you do is hurt me!" she declared with a finality that left Adam speechless. Wordlessly, he turned and left the room. A smell of burning chicken filled the apartment. Furious with Helen and with himself, Adam rushed into the kitchen and turned off the stove. Then he got his coat and hat and stormed angrily out of the house.

All the way uptown on the subway, Adam thought about his wife's phrase, "All you do is hurt me…!" But he couldn't say just why the accusing words made such an impact on him, why they made his normally ordered mind stop working and his heart start to beating wildly.

The pillow case was soaked with tears as Helen lifted her head. Her eyes were so swollen that she could hardly see. She rose and went to the bathroom to put a cold washcloth over them. Crying was making her sick inside. Adam had gone and would not be back that night, she knew. Guilt permeated her like the sick feeling of all that crying. The true proportions of her shameful actions came to her in a new light. She'd been unfaithful! She'd answered an ad and gone to a perfect stranger's apartment where she'd allowed him to perform a terribly lewd act upon her. Oh God, she'd even willingly spread her legs and loved every obscene second of it as he licked her to orgasm!

Helen writhed upon the bed as though she were in actual pain.

Oh my God, how could I have ever? How could I think that such a thing would solve my problems!

"Oh Adam, how can you ever forgive me?" Helen wailed on into the night, until, around 3:00AM she called Stan Bederbeck's number and hysterically instructed his answering service to get the message to him that she had to have help and fast!

It was almost 6:00AM before Stan hung up the phone beside the bed he shared with his wife at the ski resort.

"Whew!" The psychiatrist slumped down in the bed, sensing that his wife was still awake beside him. Although she was absolutely motionless he knew that he was in double trouble. His wife was going to give him a hard time because Helen had given him a hard time on the telephone. Not for the first time, Stan considered going into some other business. Well, at least he'd managed to calm Helen Randolph down. But he wasn't at all sure that the advice he'd given her had been correct. Perhaps he'd just told her that to get her off the phone so he could go back to sleep. On the other hand, he might have said the same thing under other circumstances. He wasn't sure.