"Were there any males who were more persistent than the others, who sought the golden glory of your cunt more avidly than their rivals?"
"Yes. There was Danny Gregory. All that guy ever thought about was getting a girl on her back, but he's married now and that's all over."
Dr. Villiers made a note. "Danny Gregory. Anyone else?"
"Big John. He's awful. A big fat slob of a hippie with a beard down to his belly and his pants always bulging out in front. I met him at another guy's pad, an artist whose name is Roy Enders. He was always after me to pose in the nude, and his girl friend was kind of peculiar too. She was good-looking, but kind of masculine, you know. She tried to kiss me once when I'd had a couple of glasses of wine, but I guess you know I put her in her place."
"Fascinating," Dr. Villiers said. "Apparently for all your life you have been repressing lesbian tendencies as well as masochistic longings, and, of course, your nymphomania."
"I really am a mess, aren't I?" Marcy said. "Do you think a psychiatrist could help me?"
"Not unless you want to go back to what you were before you answered my ad and came to my suite at the hotel. If you prefer being the puritanical, rigidly controlled and desperately unhappy child you were then, I'll give you another series of shots, and reverse the hypnotic conditioning I use on all my subjects."
"I don't remember that," Marcy said, surprised. When she thought about it, she found she had no recollection of the events that followed her phone call answering the ad, until she had gotten into the car with Villiers.
"Would you like to go back to being that timid, inhibited Marcy McCall?" Dr. Villiers asked like a kindly uncle.
Marcy hesitated. "Uh… No, I don't think I would. I was kind of all frozen inside, but I'm kind of a mess this way too, don't you think?"
"Actually, I find you the most interesting specimen in my whole collection," he said. "Even the Karlows don't have as many sexual facets and quirks. You have almost all of the ones they have, with the exception of incest, and…"
"I think I have that too," she said, shuffling her feet nervously. "Every time I see Kyle and Karla, it makes me think of my brother Jimmy, and wonder how it would feel to fuck him."
Dr. Villiers slapped his forehead. "Of course! How could I have missed it! You amaze me, X-999, you really do!"
Marcy smiled weakly. "I'm glad if I please you, Dr. Villiers. I'd rather please you than anything else in the world." Except fuck you, she was thinking. I'm getting awfully hot, and I wish you'd fuck me right now. How come all the action has slowed down? I thought we'd keep on going just the way we were, fucking, eating cunts, blowing cocks, forever and forever.
"Let's see, where were we?" Villiers said, referring to his notes. "Oh yes, were there any others who were particularly eager in pursuit of your cherry, my dear?"
"Yes, there was Mr. Price. He nearly went out of his head every time he saw me, and that made things very bad, because he was my boss. He was always trying to lure me into his private office, onto his couch, or to sit on his desk. I'd heard of some of the things he'd done to other girls who sat on his desk, so I stayed as far away from him as I could."
"And it was Mr. Price you made the deal with to keep your brother out of jail by refunding his share of the robbery to the company?"
"Yes."
"Tell me, my dear, did he ever hint at some other form of compensation? Perhaps that he would accept your body in payment for your brother's crime?"
"He hinted at it very strongly, but I pretended I didn't know what he was getting at. He's really awfully lustful. His wife must be a dried-up prune inside, because he's always looking for outside balling."
"What does Mr. Price look like?" Dr. Villiers asked. "Is he attractive physically?"
"Well, yes. He's tall and slender and really quite dignified most of the time. He has steel gray hair that contrasts nicely with his tanned face. Yes, he's very attractive, in spite of the fact that he's fifty-one."
"Would you like to fuck him, Marcy?" Dr. Villiers asked.
"I guess I'd like to fuck almost anyone I can think of now, Dr. Villiers," Marcy said matter-of-factly. "Maybe I always wanted to, but something just kept me from doing it."
"Could you be a little more specific? Just who in particular would you like to fuck?"
"You, Dr. Villiers," Marcy said. "You changed my whole life when you first put that kingly prick in me."
"Ahem! Yes, but…"
Marcy unclamped her thighs and let her knees fall outward until Villiers could see the white lace of the panties she was wearing. The panties were so thin and so wet that he could make out the damp swirls of blonde pubic hair and the rosy slit parting it down the center.
"Ah… ahem!" Dr. Villiers cleared his throat again. "I was referring to other persons, those who are outside this experimental situation. Who beside Mr. Price?"
"Well, there's Mickey Paul. He's the red-haired, freckle-faced office boy and mail clerk at Price-Meehan. He was always trying to look up my dress. He'd drop an envelope or a scratch pad, and get down on his hands and knees to pick it up and look up my skirt. I guess he thought some day he'd catch me not wearing panties, or maybe pantyhose with no crotch."
"Did you like it when he did that, Marcy? Did it give you a secret thrill?"
"I guess it did. I'd always be a little bit wet afterwards, but I tried to pretend that a boy wanting to see my pussy had nothing to do with that."
"And would you like to fuck this Mickey now, Marcy?" Dr. Villiers asked.
"Oh yes. He's sort of like Jimmy. I mean, they don't look alike, but they remind me of each other. Even their jobs are something alike – Jimmy is an outside messenger boy and Mickey is the inside one."
"I see. And how old is Mickey?"
"Fifteen, I think," she said, shifting position so that her pink-lipped cunt was more visible behind the sopping white nylon.
"And would it be possible for you to seduce this boy right in the office? Is there any private place where you could do that?"
"There's the mail room," Marcy said, "but that girl is always in there."
"What girl is that, Marcy?"
"Sheila, I think her name is. She's a funny kid, glasses and books all the time, you know. Sort of a wallflower type."
"Hmmmm. Do you think she has sexual possibilities?" Dr. Villiers asked. "Do you think she might be as repressed as you were? Do you think that the sight of you and Mickey copulating might turn her on?"
"I don't know. Maybe. I'm beginning to think anything is possible sexwise."
"It is, my dear, it is. Believe me when I tell you that the central theory of my work is that there is no person in the whole world who does not, deep within himself, crave a full and varied sex life. The hardest, most cynical intellectual; the coldest, most astute banker; the nun in her convent; the bishop in his palace – all long for, if they but knew it, the deep satisfaction and joy that a creative and varied sex life would bring."
"Not Aunt Phoebe!" Marcy said positively.
"And who is Aunt Phoebe?"
"My maiden aunt. She's been a confirmed man-hater all her life. She lives in a weird old apartment and never goes out because she'd have to look at men anywhere she went."
"Does she prefer women?" Villiers asked, making notes.
"Not that way, although she doesn't seem to despise them as much as she does men. What she really hates is sex, I guess."
"And just to think, but for an ad in the paper, you might have ended up just like Aunt Phoebe!"
"Yes. I could have been just like her, hating men and never seeing anyone but the live-in maid. Hers is a black girl from Haiti called Francie."
"Oh? Yes, well… we do seem to have an interesting group of subjects here, don't we, my dear?"
"Subjects?" Marcy asked.
"Yes, subjects for your field trips."
"Oh. I guess you did mention something about that while we were all fucking in the laboratory," Marcy said.