“All previous studies have shown us that the female is capable of more sustained and repetitive release,” Mercy told him. “This being so, we’re anxious to determine how a male functions as a prostitute. How does he contrive to meet the demands made of him? In other words, how do you provide satisfaction if you’re faced with three or four female customers in a row?”
“That’s no problem. I just do it. That’s all.”
“But physiologically you can’t fake the way a female prostitute can. How do you summon up the necessary tumescence?”
“The necessary what?”
Mercy explained.
“Oh.” Bunny grinned. “I never have any problem that way. It does what I tell it.”
“Well, let’s try and break it down. How long would you say it takes to achieve tumescence the first time you’re called upon to render your services?”
“No time at all. Nor the second, third or fourth times. I just snap my fingers and I’m ready for business.” Bunny snapped his fingers.
“I see!”
“You’ve dropped your papers. Here, let me help you pick them up.” Bunny stood up, which put the topic under discussion on a level with Mercy’s eyes.
“No! No, that’s all right. I’ve got them.” Mercy averted her eyes and scrambled about to pick up the papers. Bunny was still standing across from her when she’d finished. She couldn’t stop her eyes from refocusing on the impressive bulge stretching the chinos. “Please sit down,” she asked, her voice trembling.
“Sure.” Bunny sprawled in a chair and the chino material reformed into a pyramid. “This doesn’t bother you, does it?” he asked maliciously.
“Not at all!” Mercy snapped. “Let’s get on with the interview.”
“Okay.” The pyramid nodded to Mercy.
“You seem to have remarkable muscular control,” she said shakily. “Can you explain how you were able to condition the penile reflexes?”
“Practice, lady, practice!” The tip of the pyramid described a neat, wide circle.
“What-—” Mercy’s voice came out in a high squeak.
She brought it under control. “What stimulus—mental, I mean—do you use to maintain a state of excitation?”
“At the moment, lady, you.” Bunny leered.
“You fantasize what you are going to do with your partner before you do it and this helps maintain tumescence?” Mercy proceeded desperately.
“You must be reading my mind!” Bunny rolled his eyes.
“Is there any strain or pain connected with maintaining prolonged tumescence without release?”
“Well, now, at the moment there is a sort of rubbing friction which is very, very irritating. But I can relieve that.” Bunny’s hand traveled quickly to the zipper of the chinos. As it moved away there was an audible twanging sound and the imposing tool of his trade sprang into view.
“Oh, my!” Mercy jumped to her feet and backed away, shedding her papers like moulting feathers as she retreated.
“Oh your what?” Bunny asked smugly.
“I—I--I--” Mercy turned and bolted for the door.
“Another appointment,” she stammered hysterically over her shoulder. “I just remembered. You’ll be contacted to finish the interview. Thank you for your cooperation.” The door slammed behind her.
“ ‘Thank you for your cooperation’!” Bunny snorted and snapped his fingers. “Now what did you want to frighten the lady like that for?” He zipped up his zipper. “The more they want it, the easier they panic!”
Mercy went through the rest of the day’s interviews in a daze. That night she took two sleeping pills before retiring. They put her body to sleep, but her mind remained active. All night long she dreamed about what she’d seen so briefly. When she woke up in the morning, she still felt as if she was on fire.
A cold shower quenched the flames, but not the embers. They were still glowing uncomfortably when she arrived at the laboratory. She passed “Fig” Newton in the hall and greeted him. He didn’t return the greeting. He was muttering to himself incoherently and seemed not to see her. Momentarily Mercy wondered what was bothering him. Then she shrugged it off; she had her own problems.
So did “Fig.” And the particular one concerning him at the moment seemed overwhelming. Partly because he was exhausted. But then his exhaustion was a direct result of the problem itself.
“We must, of course, devise some means of keeping a constant check on the sensitivity and reactions of the female’s erogenous zones,” Professor Woocheck had remarked to “Fig” as they were leaving the laboratory together the previous evening.
“Sure,” he had agreed. “But just where are the erogenous zones?”
“Oops! I forgot to wash my hands.” The Professor had scooted back into the building and left “Fig” standing on the sidewalk. “Don’t bother waiting,” he called as he went. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
The question had stayed with “Fig” during the evening. It was still with him when he climbed into bed. His preoccupation with it was obvious.
“Hey,” Gloria asked, “remember me? You just going to lie there and stare into space?”
“Sorry.” “Fig” returned his attention to the voluptuous redhead. “Its just that this problem Woocheck brought up tonight is bugging me.”
“Never bring the office home with you,” Gloria crooned, running her fingers over his body.
“I don’t work in an office.”
“The lab then. Never mix business with pleasure.” Her red hair tickled his chest as she snuggled up to him.
“In my line the two are inextricably entwined,” he pointed out. He caught the lobe of her ear between two fingers and played with it. “Is that an erogenous zone?” he inquired.
“Is that a what?”
“Does that excite you?” He rephrased the question.
“Ummm. Yes indeedy. It makes me tingle all over.” She dug her nails into his shoulder.
“How about this?” “Fig” stroked her neck.
“Oh, yes.” She responded by biting his shoulder.
“And this?” “Fig” squeezed her left breast.
“Yes-yes-yes!” Gloria exclaimed, writhing,
“How about this one?” He switched to her right breast.
“Ooh-ooh-ooh!”
“Which is the more stimulating?” He switched back.
“Oh-oh-oh! I don’t know. Both the same, I guess.”
“How does this make you feel?” He stroked the inner surface of her thigh.
“Like I can’t wait! Stop teasing me! Come on, darling! Hurry up! Now-now-now!”
“Fig” complied.
A half-hour later he snuffed out his cigarette and caressed the left globe of her derriere. “Does this have any effect?” he wanted to know.
“Yes-yes-yes! Again, darling! Do it again!”
“Fig” did it again.
An hour or so after that he crawled down to the foot of the bed and tickled the soles of her feet. “Is that sexy?” he asked.
“I’ll say! Are you ready? Are you? Are you?”
And so “Fig” had passed the night. Now it was morning and he was exhausted. Somehow he’d managed to drag himself into the lab. Wearily, he trudged down the hallway to Professor Woocheck’s office. The Professor looked up questioningly as he entered.
“About the excitability of the erogenous zones -” “Fig” began.
“Ah, yes. It will be necessary to pinpoint them as you suggested. Now I wonder which particular areas -?”
“No particular areas,” “Fig” interrupted.
“Pardon?”
“They’re all over.”
“I don’t think I--”
“The human female’s body is one mass erogenous zone!”
“But all the available evidence on the subject indicates-—”