WANTED: Men and women 21 years and up for sexual testing. No experience required. Living arrangements provided. Great pay. Apply in person at 12277 Industrial Park Road, between the hours of 8 AM and 4 PM Thurs. and Friday only.
Digby Barnes re-read the ad three times before calling the taxi. There had to be a catch. This sounded way too good to be true, without there being some kind of catch. As he went out to wait for the cab, he ran over as many scenarios in his head as he could think of. By the time the taxi arrived, however, he had pretty much convinced himself that, no matter what the catch was, this was an opportunity too good to pass up.
As the taxi pulled away from the curb, he began to wonder about the types of experiments he would have to go through. Would there be just one? A whole battery? Would it be with women or with men or even both? And, if living arrangements were provided, just how long were these experiments going to last?
Thoughts of hard-on inducing drugs crept into his mind, something to make a man stay harder longer. He could live with that. He had never received any complaints before on the length of time he lasted, but that didn’t mean there weren’t any. Besides, a man could always use some extra staying power.
“Yer here, buddy!” The cabby’s voice snapped him from his daydream of having an everlasting hard-on. The woman he was trying it out on was begging him to either cum, or stop before he killed her with orgasms. It was then that he realized that he had a hard on for real. “Eighteen fifty,” the cabby muttered as he turned in his seat. Something in his voice said he didn’t want to know what this idiot was doing in the back lot of an apparently abandoned looking warehouse in the middle of nowhere.
As he paid the cab driver, Digby looked around. Years worth of wind blown debris and rotting pallets we piled against the sides of the building, and the only sound was from the slight breeze rustling the leaves and other trash that wasn’t jammed into or stuck on something.
For some reason, he had expected a long line of horny, sex-crazed people lined up for miles, however, the place looked deserted. He was about to ask the cabby if he was sure this was the place, when the cab, tires squealing, took off leaving him alone. “This would be the part where the eerie music would start to play,” he muttered as he approached the building’s only door. A sign, neatly typed in bold letters sat squarely in the center of the dented, primer grey door that read “Volunteers Enter Here.”
He shook his head. “No shit, Sherlock, it’s the only fuckin’ door around!” he muttered, and then reached for the knob. He would at least go in and see what was up, and if he didn’t like what he saw, he would just use the phone and get the hell out of there.
The entrance opened to a small foyer with another door, also with note taped to it with instructions to please sign in with the receptionist. He had just enough time to read it before the door behind him closed. A naked, low wattage bulb illuminated the small foyer, giving him just enough light to see his dismal surroundings. “Well genius, you wanted to be here,” he muttered to himself. With a shrug, he opened the second door, and the sight that greeted him was almost shocking. “Never judge a book...,” he whispered as he glanced around.
A lobby that resembled a doctor’s office waiting room stood before him. A thick, beige carpet covered the floor, and comfortable looking chairs and couches filled up most of the room. A window made of sliding panels of frosted glass sat squarely in the middle of the wall just ahead of him, with a door to the right of that, and the walls were adorned with pictures and paintings of beautiful, naked women involved in various forms of sexual pleasure.
He could now see movement behind the frosted glass, but heard no sound at all as he approached. As he was about to knock, the right side panel slid open and a pretty woman in a clingy, powder blue dress smiled up at him from her chair.
“May I help you, Sir?” Her voice sounded a little strange, although he couldn’t put his finger on why.
“Um...yeah...I...I’m here...”
“In answer to our ad in the pa-per?” The way she said paper made him start to feel uneasy.
“Y-yeah,” he answered, holding up the ad as proof. She smiled at him, a gesture that seemed genuine, but somehow well practiced.
“Very good!” she smiled, and then reached behind her and grabbed a paper filled clipboard from a table. The move offered him a nice view up her dress, and showed him that she was wearing thigh high stockings and flower print panties. Suddenly, the clipboard blocked his view. “Please take a moment to fill out this questionnaire. An atten-dent will be with you shortly.” There was that little speech thing of hers again.
Smiling, he took the pen and clipboard from her, and as soon as the clipboard passed the frame of the window, the secretary reached up and slid it closed. Reading as he walked, he made his way to an expensive looking leather sofa and sat down.
The first page was pretty basic: name, age, sex, address etc. However, the second page made him smile a little nervously. It had questions of his sexual preference, favorite positions, how many times he has had sex, with how many partners, the gender of the partners, did he masturbate, how often, did he ever use stimulants like toys, blow up dolls, lubes, pictures, movies or reading materials. Although it seemed a little odd and personal to him, he filled out the questions without any problems. The third page however, was going to take some time. In bold, black uppercase print, it read:
PLEASE DESCRIBE IN DETAIL AT LEAST THREE FANTASIES YOU HAVE THAT HAVE NEVER BEEN FULFILLED
Beneath this sheet, was a small stack of blank, lined paper like the kind he used to use when he was in school. He leaned back and thought a moment. He had plenty of as yet unfulfilled fantasies to choose from, his only problem was trying to figure out which ones to put down. Just as he thought of one of his favorites, the side door opened and a man dressed in a pastel yellow polo shirt, blue jeans and a white medical smock came in. With a weak smile, Digby waved the uncompleted form. “I, uh.... didn’t finish.”
The man smiled and waved it off. “Not a problem. It’s just a formality to help us fulfill your desires better,” he smiled as stuck out his hand. “I’m Frank.”
Digby took his outstretched hand and smiled. “Digby.”
“Pleased to meet you, Digby,” Frank smiled as he accepted his outstretched hand. “Now, if you’ll follow me, I’ll show you to your apartment.” Frank led Digby down a series of hallways lined with doors, and next to every door with a number painted on it, another numberless door stood next to it. They stopped in front of door number three one five, and after Frank unlocked the door, he handed Digby the key. “This is your apartment,” he smiled.
“Uh, cool,” he replied distractedly.
Inside, there was more room than he thought there would be. He was a little disappointed that the room was windowless, and the only other door in the room, lead to the bathroom. It was then that he noticed the mirrored wall to the right of the bed. “Ah, I get the blank doors now,” he stated, pointing at the mirror. “A little voyeurism going on, huh?”
Frank chuckled softly before answering. “No, Digby. It’s for observation purposes only.”
“No refrigerator? No TV?”
Frank smiled as he walked to an unadorned part of the wall, bent slightly and opened a small door. Inside the little alcove was a small refrigerator which he also opened to reveal that it was stocked with beer, soda and bottled water. “Meals will be served in the dining hall at 8 AM, 12 PM and 6 PM daily.” Frank stated. “There is a map of the facility on the back of your apartment door to show you how to get to the dining hall, and, as for the television, you will hardly find time to watch anything.”
“Speaking of which,” Digby started, as he bounced on the bed to test its firmness. “What is it I am supposed to do here, exactly?”
A wolfish grin crossed Frank’s face. “Sex, Digby.”
There was a pause, as Digby waited for more of an explanation. When there was none, he stood. “Ok...what about sex?”
Frank handed him back his unfinished survey. “We are a sexual research firm, Digby,” he said as he pointed to the wall-sized mirror. “Whenever you have sex, you will be observed by a highly trained member of our staff.”
“And I get paid for this?”
Frank nodded. “And you get paid for it.”
Digby sat back down on the bed, this time ungracefully. After a moment of looking long and hard at the floor, he looked up at Frank, his own wolfish grin on his face. “When do I start?”
As it worked out, all Digby had to do was fill out his survey, and a woman as close to his requirements as possible would be provided for him. Coupled with three square meals a day and a roof over his head, he could make this a new career. After handing in his survey to the receptionist, Digby headed back to his room to wait for his “girl.” When he arrived, he was somewhat surprised to see a small color television set installed in his room with a note taped to the screen.
“We are finding a suitable match for the profile you have given,” it read. “Please feel free to watch this while you wait.” Digby turned the small, neatly typed note over. That was it. Nothing more was written. “Well, at least they get cable,” he mumbled as he turned on the set. Just as he was getting into a fairly good T & A flick, he heard a knock at the door. At first, it pissed him off, but then he remembered why he was there in the first place. His expectations began to rise, and when he opened the door, he was not disappointed.
