Doctor’s examination

The ad in the City Paper was intriguing.A science researcher was looking for women to participate in an experiment to determine the intensity and duration of female orgasms.

Heather, who was more than a little dissatisfied with her current live-in lover — he was more interested in his own gratification than hers — decided to investigate. She certainly was orgasmic, but lately, she seemed to be spending more time going than cumming.She wondered whether her physical reactions to love making were similar to what other women experienced. Perhaps the researcher could help.

The address in the ad indicated the researcher (male…female… switch hitter?) was conducting the experiments in a townhouse near McLean. “Seems a safe enough address,” Heather thought to herself.

Heather drove over to McLean from her apartment on Capitol Hill. As she wheeled up the Parkway, she wondered what she was going to encounter. Unconsciously, her right hand was at her breast, her fingers gently tweaking her nipple. A guy passing her on the right looked over, saw what Heather was doing and began honking his horn.

Heather glanced over, took a look at the Yuppie type in the Porsche wearing a three piece suit, decided he was a lawyer–the lowest form of life –and stuck out her tongue. She drove on.

Crossing over to the right hand lane, Heather turned onto the exit and, following the directions at the bottom of the ad, drove into the townhouse complex, found the right apartment, parked her car and got out.

As Heather walked up the brick sidewalk, the front door of the townhouse opened and a young woman walked out. She looked flushed.Her makeup was askew, there were beads of perspiration on her forehead and her blouse was buttoned incorrectly.The young woman was also having trouble negotiating the three steps that led down from the door to the sidewalk.

“Are you okay?,” Heather asked the woman. “You don’t look well.” “Oh, I’m just fine now,” the young woman responded. “I’ve just been visiting with the doctor and he gave me a very thorough examination…” “Examination?,” Heather asked.”What kind of examination, what kind of doctor?” Heather was beginning to have second thoughts about the “experiment.”

“Well,” the young woman said, “I’ve been in there for nearly five hours and I’ve just never gone through anything like it. It was unbelievable! I mean, I thought I was going to…”

At that moment, the townhouse door opened again and a middle-aged man walked about halfway out. He looked at Heather for a moment or two, sighed, and started speaking.

“You are here to participate in the experiment,” the man said to Heather. He didn’t phrase his remark in the form of a question. He looked right into her eyes.

“Why…yes, I am,” Heather responded, “but I’d really like to know what is going on in there.” Heather was trying to peer behind the mind and see into the half-opened townhouse door.


Through The Door
Almost unconsciously, Heather found herself walking up the three small steps behind the man, who had turned around and walked back in just as she had started to question him. In a step or two, she was inside the townhouse, standing in a foyer.

The man had disappeared. She looked around. Not too shabby, she thought. She was standing on a pinkish-hued marble floor, underneath a stainless steel chandelier. There were what look to be original oil paintings on the walls of the foyer. They weren’t the great masters, of course, but they were good. The foyer had several hallways leading to the interior of the townhouse. Heather decided to follow one.The marble continued, but it was covered by a gray silk Chinese rug. Along the walls of the hallway, hanging gallery style, were more paintings, some oils, some water colors, but all obviously the work of the same person.The scenes were seascapes.

Heather followed the hallway to its end, where she found a door with a small engraved sign: “Office”. Feeling a little bit like Alice following the Mad Hatter, Heather reached for the doorknob, turned it, pushed open the door and walked into the office.

She immediately stepped onto a think, sink-up-to-your-ankles white wool carpet. Pure white, as white as snow.Heather looked around, saw the man she had seen earlier sitting behind a glass desk, in a thick red leather swivel chair. The man’s feet were up on the desk. He looked disheveled, although well-dressed.

In his 40s, Heather thought. Brown hair, some gray, moustache and obviously near-sighted. Expensive shirt and cable-knit white sweater. Looks intelligent. “Sit down, young lady,” the man said in a commanding but gentle voice. “I’m Doctor Miller. How can I help you?”

“I read your ad, Dr. Miller,” Heather said.” I’m Heather Longfellow. I’d like to find out about your experiment.”

“First,” the doctor said, “call me Alan. The experiment is exactly as described in the ad. I am measuring female orgasmic response and I’m looking for subjects. Are you interested?”

“How do you conduct your experiment?,” Heather asked. “I mean, how do you get a woman sexually excited enough to achieve an orgasm? Do you use special equipment?” Dr. Miller chucked a little. “Yes, I do,” he said. It is my own equipment and it is very special, at least to me. Before I answer any more of your questions, however,I need you to sign a release and take a physical exam. Is that any problem for you?”

Heather’s eyes were darting around the room, looking at the doctor’s med school graduate certificates, licenses to practice, books and mementos. She still hadn’t a clue as to what she was getting herself into.

“I guess its okay,” Heather said. “Let me sign the release.”

“Fine,” the doctor said. “There’s a changing room next door. Please remove your clothes, put on the dressing gown and go into the room marked ‘Examination’.