Suzanne Mellows - The sex experiment

"A hair of the dog, Helen," he'd said. "Go out and give yourself something to really feel guilty about. Then you'll know what real guilt is! Then we can deal with it on its own terms."

Stan turned out the light and snuggled up to his wife. He wasn't at all surprised when she moved a little bit farther away from him. He sighed and went back to sleep.

The next afternoon Helen was feeling a bit better. She'd slept some, and somehow the conversation with the psychiatrist had seemed to sort her feelings out. She knew just what she would do today. Adam had not returned at all, and in the bright light of day this one face seemed unforgivable. She would, just as Stan had suggested, come to terms with her own guilt! Helen began by dialing the number she'd found in the newspaper. It was a bit forward to call, but seeing Andre again might straighten her out, bring back the confidence she'd felt for so brief a time!

Wearing her yellow culotte nightgown, the disturbed blonde wife sat at the edge of her bed and dialed. To her surprise, the first ring was interrupted by a recording. "I'm sorry, but the number you have dialed is no longer in service. If you wish more information, kindly remain on the line and an operator will help you." Helen was shaking by the time an operator came on. "Why is this number out of service?" she inquired, the familiar tears returning.

"Don't know. Just a moment. Oh, yes. I see."

"What? What do you see?" Helen felt hysteria mounting again.

"The number has been changed."

"Oh what's the new number?" Helen felt momentarily relieved.

"I'm sorry it's an unlisted number, and we are not allowed to give it out."

"NO!" Helen slammed down the telephone. "Now get hold of yourself!" she said out loud as she ran into the bathroom, trying to stave off her feelings of utter helplessness, of utter futility by running cold water and splashing it onto her face. Since that worked out so well, why not answer another ad? she thought. Hurriedly getting dressed, Helen went outside to the newspaper stand at the far corner near the bus-stop. Morty sold everything from the Times, to the more adventuresome papers. Helen didn't care that Morty seemed amused when she bought the underground paper. She felt that she no longer cared what anyone thought of her. Her life was her own, and somehow she had to salvage it!

Back in her living room and breathless, Helen sat down without taking off her coat. Rapidly, she scanned the advertisements to see if Andre's was there again. But she didn't see anything that she thought might be his. Heart fluttering, she finally came to one which sounded as though she might be able to answer it.

Responsible researcher and assistants seek intelligent woman for interesting conversation, mutual enjoyment. Object serious research. Apply between 7PM and 9PM, Mon-Sat, 933 West 119th Street, Apt 24.

How nice it sounded. It seemed as though this advertisement might bring her just what she was looking for. The chance to be treated like a real human being. From the sound of it, it also seemed as though she might be fable to do some sort of interesting work. She might meet someone who could look upon her as a person, rather than a nonentity like her husband did! To him she was just someone to boss around. Someone who lived in the same house, and whom he spoke to when he felt like it! It was not purely a sexual thing, Helen reasoned. She just needed to have her confidence bolstered, to feel like a human being again, instead of just Dr. Adam Randolph's unloved wife!

"You boys can wait in here or I'll call you when the first subject comes," Adam said. He was bleary-eyed from lack of sleep. For the first time since having begun the experiments, he felt a definite lack of enthusiasm. He and Helen had had fights in the past, but he'd never spent a night away from home before. Not a night when he and Helen were mad at each other anyway. He might even have called off the evening's experiments had it not been for the number of people involved. Once more he had called upon the services of the young college students who lived downstairs. They were more than willing to help out, and had come to regard the professor with a new respect that far outdistanced his former reputation. The five of them were pledged to secrecy, however, a secrecy which they maintained, since it was entirely to their own benefit. Three were present tonight, the other two having gone home for the weekend.

As one of the students put it to the others while they were sitting around drinking beer in the "living room" of the lab, "it's all the trouble having to take 'em out and stuff, that makes it a drag. I mean, shit, nooky is nooky, right? This way we get lots more time to study for the upcoming exams, without having to go without getting our nuts off!"

"You said it, Hank. Sure beats finger-fucking in the park to all hell!" Ben Starker replied. He was reading a copy of one of the magazines that the professor had thoughtfully provided for them.

"We'll wait, Professor. Just send her on in, we'll take care of the whole thing just fine!" Roger English spoke for the group. Being a straight "A" student, a Rhodes Scholar, and a genuine 180/I.Q. genius, Roger often was the natural leader of any group in which he found himself.

Adam closed the door and went into the lab. He sat at his control table and laid his head on his arms. He felt a definite tightness in his throat and chest, and a heaviness in his heart. He flicked the intercommunication button.

"When the bell rings, will one of you boys get it please. I prefer to say in the control room this evening."

"Sure thing, Prof!" Roger replied.

The boys were in the middle of a heavy game of crazy-eights when the bell rang. Roger, who was tall and angular, put down his cards and went to answer it. The professor had clued them in to all the details of the experiment, and each boy felt confident of carrying out the researches to perfection.

Before he left the living room, Roger smiled and winked at the other boys. "I'll bring you back a pretty one!" he said.

"She'd better be!"

"Yeah!"

Helen stood poised to run at the slightest provocation, but the young boy who opened the door was obviously harmless, simply a college student like many others she'd seen, that she remained standing there in her green ultra-high heels with platform soles and her low-cut dress with the matching coat.

"Is it about the advertisement?" Roger smiled his most boyishly charming smile, the one he used for his mother, some teachers, his minister, and all the other relatives at home.

"Uh, yes. It is. Is this where the research is being done?"

"That's correct. Won't you come right in?" Roger bowed low and stood aside.

"Well, I don't know. I…"

"The professor is in the other room. He'll he out later on. In the meanwhile we can make you comfortable inside," Roger said. He was trying not to seem too anxious. But, oh man, wait until those other jokers got a look at this one. She was some looker. A gorgeous, hot-blooded blonde was just his idea of a nice way to spend the evening! Even if he did have to share her with his buddies!

Professors Helen was thinking. That would show Adam. What if she could set up a friendship, dare she think "relationship", with someone who was on Adam's level, a peer? That would show him! Andre was something else, hardly an intellectual even though he read a lot of books. But a professor, now this was beginning to sound more like it!

"All right," she said shyly, stepping inside.

"Right this way!" Roger led the way down the hall, and opened the door to the living room.

"Well, heeeelloooo!" Hank said standing up. Already he could feel himself getting a hardon just as the sight of the sensuously ripened blonde in the green "fuck-me" shoes.