The subjects are told that the study measures women's sexual response. The financial reward is quite substantial - $1000.00 – and so the offer attracts a good number of college students. The "experiment" takes place off campus in a set of offices above a secondhand CD shop downtown. This does arouse suspicion in some of respondents, but the lure of the money overcomes many reservations. By the time Hannah walks through the office door I had been in town almost a week. Soon it would be time to get out – the local police would soon get to hear of the fake experiments.
Hannah was the perfect subject. She explained she needed the money to meet her tuition fees and to pay off several credit cards and so was quite desperate in her need for cash. Hannah though was a pretty and very ordinary young woman recently arrived from the suburbs. When she telephoned to arrange an appointment she explained that she had three sisters and she was the youngest, her Daddy's favorite. She loved animals and volunteered at a vet's office during school breaks. Her best qualities she thought were honesty and friendliness. She was facing me across an impressive looking desk. I was wearing a white coat over a slightly shabby tweed jacket. My old-fashioned glasses completed the picture of an objective social science interested only furthering knowledge.
Hannah was tall (she told me she played on the college volleyball team). Her reddish/brown hair was pulled back in a tight pony tail, the end of which reached the small of her back. She was athletic, nineteen years-old, and deliciously innocent. She wore a pair of hip hugging black Levi jeans that exposed her midriff below her cut-off t-shirt. I noticed she was wearing sandals and that her finger nails and toes her manicured and unpainted. She wore no makeup.
I started my usual routine. I pushed a heap of forms for her to sign and left her alone. My spy hole allowed me to see her behave just as I expected and as others had done. She looked through the papers, paying special attention to the letterheads (The Institute for the Advancement of Women's Health). Then she looked around the room. There was a bookcase stuffed, in a slightly disorderly fashion, full of books about psychology and sociology. She inspected the degree certificates hanging on the wall. The first of the pile of documents invites the subject to telephone a number of names at impressive sounding institutions to confirm my credentials and the importance of the experiment she is participating in. This was the first crucial hurdle. The numbers were faked of course, but if a subject actually took the trouble to phone I would stop the process. Any young woman who is brave enough to phone an unknown professor who was head of a department or research institute would be trouble later on. I was right in my prediction that Hannah would sign the document acknowledging that she had confirmed the authenticity of the experiment. The other papers were quickly filled in and signed.
I resumed my seat opposite Hannah and read through her details. She had been a very good student at high school, liked reading and playing sports. She was from a small town in Kansas. Her father was an accountant and her mother a school teacher.
"So Hannah lets get started," I said cheerfully. I interrupted myself. "First things first. I can give you a check or cash? Which will it be?" Hannah, like all the others, chose cash. I passed the large envelope which she quickly stuffed into her bag with an almost apologetic smile. Now that she had taken the money the rest would be much easier. "I need to ask a few questions first before we start the experiment proper, OK?" She nodded in agreement, slightly nervous. I asked her a number of health-related questions before, with a slight "embarrassed" hesitation, I asked her whether she had a boyfriend.
"Yes," she said, a delightful blush spreading from her cheeks to her neck.
"Wonderful," I said, "What's his name?"
"Tony."
"Have you and Tony had, um, sex?"
"Yes we have."
She didn't look at me when she answered, clearly slightly uncomfortable with the question. "How many men have you had full penetrative sex with Hannah?" This time she looked up sharply.
"Three," she said quietly.
"What age did you loose your virginity?"
"I was seventeen."
"When did you start masturbating?" Now she looked really uncomfortable. I sat there, seemingly uninterested, going through a routine set of questions. "Hannah, when you start touching yourself sexually?"
"I dunno, twelve I think."
"Good, you seem like a normal healthy woman," I said and she responded with a thankful smile. "How often do you masturbate at the moment?"
"Do I have to answer that question?" She asked, her face now bright red.
"We need truthful and complete information Hannah," I said in a parental and slightly annoyed tone. "This is why the Institute pays you so generously." It was always useful to remind them that they had been paid; it cemented the sense of obligation they felt.
"Sorry," she replied in a girlish way.
"Don't worry about it," I responded gently, with a bright smile of encouragement. "Would you like something to drink? A soda or perhaps a glass of water?" She declined with a slight shake of her head. "Are you ready to start up again?" Hannah licked her dry lips and said she was. I repeated my question. "How often do you masturbate at the moment?"
"Depends on my mood. Last week I did it three times."
"Do you use anything other than your fingers?" Again she hesitated. I leaned across the desk. "Look, Hannah, we can't spend on day on this." I saw her take a deep breath.
"I sometimes use the handle of my hairbrush."
"And you insert the handle and stimulate yourself as if it was a penis?"
"Yes."
"Good. Let's move on." I flipped the paper and read the next question.
"Do you fantasize about having sex with someone other than your partner?"
