If there's ever a shameful fetish, Zara is certain she has the crown jewel. That's why she's sitting in my office. It's our first meeting, and the more we talk, the more she relaxes. What a charming young woman, I think to myself.
Zara is a literature major at university, 22 years old, and for a small fee she's agreed to take part in a comprehensive study on human sexuality. Like most other participants, it's more than about money, it's about having a genuine interest in contributing.
She was born in Tehran and her family moved to America when she was young, but she's still very much an American girl. I suspect that her cultural duality plays a role in her uncertain mindset. It seems like Zara coming to my office to participate is a way of delving deeper into herself, that perhaps I have answers she's looking for.
What rouses her passions and heightens her senses are women's nipples. Nothing else seems to do the trick, which has always been the case since the dawn of her sexuality. Zara holds her chin high and looks at me.
"You seem ready now," I say.
"Do I?"
"Your body language suggests that you're ready. I'm going to record now. This is the main interview and I'll ask follow-up questions at a later date. For now, I'd like you to begin from your freshman year in college."
When the recording starts, she tenses. I've read her questionnaire thoroughly and her freshman year in college is when her sexuality blossomed.
"Right, so, I'm from a conservative household. My family is from Iran, we're Muslim, so when I was growing up, sex was the most taboo topic you could imagine. Even our cable tv and internet had filters for adult content. We're not backwards though, don't get the wrong idea. My dad is an engineer for a tech company.
She continues, "Anyway, my first year at college was a culture shock. I rented a small room in a home with other college girls. Like I said, 'culture shock.' These girls were smart, outgoing, and full of energy. We bonded right away and it was the first time that I felt like an independent adult. It was my first exposure to weird conversations.
She continues, "Mostly it was them being perverts and laughing about it. I didn't have dirty jokes to contribute, but I thought it was hilarious. These academic minded girls would talk about guys on campus and try to guess their dick sizes. A few of the more perverted girls talked about other girls who could be 'turned' if they had the right opportunity. So yeah, fun times."
"But neither of those things interested you," I say. "In the questionnaire, you mentioned that you thought you were a-sexual for a while. Can you elaborate on that?"
"Yeah, that's right. I went through an awkward phase where I wasn't attracted to men or women. Don't get me wrong, I could make myself cum, but I didn't have a preference. Masturbation was just something that felt good, if that makes sense."
"Makes perfect sense. What did you think about when you masturbated?"
"Random things," she replies. "I could literally play with my clit, thinking about a book I'm reading, what I need to buy for groceries, what I need to do the next day, then cum. My orgasms felt good, but I never felt the need to attach a person to my thoughts."
"Tell me about the locker room shower. As I understand it, that played a critical role in the development of your sexuality."
It makes Zara pause and she squirms in her seat -- in a good way. Just thinking about it makes her aroused, and the more she'll talk about this, the more aroused she'll become. Zara takes a breath and tucks her hair behind her ears.
Her walls are coming down and I'm glad she's comfortable doing this. I get the sense that Zara enjoys sharing this information to understand herself, but also as exhibitionism.
"This happened two years ago," she says. "Freshman year in college. Like I mentioned earlier, my cable tv and internet had safety filters when I was growing up. Even when I started living with college girls, I was still too intimidated to look at online porn. I'm still a devout Muslim, to be clear.
She continues, "To your question, a friend texted me to come to the locker room. The campus has an amazing gym and my friend had a late afternoon fitness class there. She was running late and we were supposed to meet for dinner, that's why she asked me to meet her in the locker. As fate should have it, the volleyball team had just finished practice and needed their showers. You can see where this is headed."
A blush on her cheeks brings new life to her face and her eyes sparkle.
"Let me interject for a moment," I say. "Was that the first time you saw full, female nudity with your own eyes?"
"No, let me clarify. I've seen glimpses of nudity growing up, the accidental kind around the house. Big household, stuff happens. I've also seen pictures and videos of nudity from sex education. Normal stuff."
I nod. "Got it, please continue with the locker room."
"Right, so, that was my first time in a university locker room. As it turned out, the rules were totally different than anything I'd ever seen in my life. I'd never had a gym membership before, and I'd never played on a sports team. For me, fitness is running outside for miles and occasionally using resistance bands. For these girls, fitness included walking around butt naked, sweat dripping from their bodies as they stepped into open showers.
She continues, "This was something that I simply couldn't believe. I marveled at how these American girls could be so brazen with their bodies. It was a trait I admired. The height of a woman's bravery. I stood there like a pervert for a few seconds, fawning over their nakedness as they cracked jokes and talked amongst themselves. Their bodies were divine, but it was their attitude that struck me.
She continues, "My friend walked over to me and laughed. According to her, I looked like I was watching an alien invasion. It might as well have been. I made a quick retort, trying to brush it off, but we both knew this was foreign to me, even though I was raised in this country. I'm sure my friend wanted to crack a Muslim joke, but refrained. I can handle religious and cultural jokes, by the way. I make them all the time."
"You wrote about the effect of seeing their nipples," I say, glancing down at the questionnaire. "What did you mean by that?"
"At the time, I didn't realize how much it affected me. I was too awestruck from seeing it, and too embarrassed from being caught by my friend. I tried to forget about it. But at night, when I touched myself, all I could think about was what I saw in the locker room.
She continues, "The girls on the volleyball team were beautiful, but it was the sight of their nipples that made my clitoris throb. I had never seen such variety, or thought such variety existed. Some were puffy, some were like pencil erasers. And then there were the colors. Oh god, the colors. The white girls, who were most of the team, tended to have pink nipples. The asian girls tended to have browner nipples. There were two black girls with pitch black nipples. I could imagine that place to be heaven."
"What was it about their nipples that aroused you?" I ask.
The question makes Zara pause. She knows the answer but she takes time to find the right words, wanting to articulate her thoughts correctly. It's something she's grappled with in the past, I'm sure, and the answer is on the tip of her tongue.
