The Monolayer Project Deborah

Deborah

The advertisement on the student union bulletin board was easy to overlook--plain, black type on white paper--tucked into the lower right corner, and almost hidden by a large orange and black poster announcing a Hallowe'en dance hosted by one of the sororities.

"Volunteers wanted for research project in sensory enhancement. Applicants must be 18 years or older." A phone number was attached.

Deborah scanned the rest of the bulletin board, but nothing interesting caught her eye. She came back to the little advertisement in the corner, opened her phone and took a picture of the phone number, then hurried off to her first class of the day.

As she approached the lecture hall where her second year organic chemistry class was scheduled she was met by a crowd of students coming out the open door. She recognized a face and called out, "What's going on?"

"Class is canceled today," the girl called back. "Professor Stevenson is sick."

Deborah sighed. She had almost three hours to kill until her next class, and she didn't feel like hanging out at the cafeteria and drinking coffee. She sat down on a nearby bench and opened her phone. The picture she'd just taken glared at her.

Why not? Just to find out what it's about.

Deborah copied the phone number and pasted it into her number pad. She listened to two rings, then started to hang up. "Physiology Department," a female voice answered. "This is Janice. How can I help you?"

"Uh, hi, Janice. This number was on an ad for volunteers for a sensory enhancement study?"

"Oh. Yes. Just a moment. I'll transfer you."

A moment later another female voice sounded in her ear. "Teresa speaking. How can I help you?"

Deborah repeated her query about the advertisement. "Oh, yes!" Teresa responded. "Do you have a couple of hours right now?"

"I suppose so," Deborah replied uncertainly. "But I was really just wondering what this study is about?"

"Of course," Teresa voice came back. "Are you somewhere private?"

"Uh, no," Deborah admitted. "I'm sitting on a bench in the hallway of the Chemistry building."

"I see. The thing is; the subject matter of this study is a little sensitive. You've got questions, and we'll have questions, and the answers might get a little intimate. If you just come next door to the Faculty of Medicine, the receptionist will guide you to us, and we can have a nice comfortable chat in private."

Deborah didn't have anything else to do and she was curious. "Okay. I'll see you soon, then."

Ten minutes later she found herself in a comfortable chair, with a hot cup of tea, sitting opposite Teresa--an attractive woman in her mid-twenties, casually dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt.

"You want to know what this study is about," Teresa began.

Deborah nodded.

"Well, to begin with, we're looking at a way of enhancing the pleasure you might feel from tactile inputs."

"Touching?" Deborah asked.

"Yes."

"Sexual touching?" Deborah ventured.

Teresa smiled. "That's the eventual aim, yes. Is that something you might be interested in?"

"Um." A cascade of troubled memories flooded Deborah's mind.

She was a good-looking, healthy young woman, but at almost twenty-one years of age Deborah had yet to have an orgasm--not with her own hands, not at the hands of her boyfriends, not even with a lesbian girlfriend. Her parents had been open with her about sex, and she'd overheard enough joyous sounds from their lovemaking sessions to know her mother didn't have that problem.

Teresa saw the blush on Deborah's face. She leaned forward and took Deborah's hands in hers. "You're not alone, you know. If we're successful, our program could help a lot of people with concerns like yours."

Deborah shook her head. "I just... I don't get excited. I mean it feels nice... touching myself... being touched by someone else. But... nothing happens."

Teresa nodded. "Our program is working on a new method to bring on the response you're looking for."

"A drug?" Deborah asked.

Teresa shook her head. "No, nothing like that. Do you know what a monomolecular layer is?"

"Um, sort of?"

Teresa nodded. "Essentially it's a membrane that's only a single molecule thick. We've developed a membrane that might be able to enhance your tactile sense."

"My sense of touch? Would that really help?"

"There are a number of reasons why you might not respond to intimate touching. We believe that increasing the pleasure you feel from being touched might overcome a significant barrier."

"Oh? That sounds interesting."

"Would you be willing to let us test such a membrane on you?"

"I... I think so."

Teresa smiled warmly. "Wonderful! But first, we need you to answer some questions. Would that be okay?"

"Sure."

"Alright." Teresa picked up a tablet and turned it on. "Your name and age."

"Deborah Darlington. Twenty."

"You appear to be female. Do you identify as female?"

"Um, yes."

"Sexual preference?"

"Uh--I'm not sure. I started dating when I was sixteen. I've had boyfriends, but nothing really serious. But my best friend in the world is Mark. I've known him forever--he lives next door to me--and he... um... we lost our virginity together."

She and Mark had the same birthday in August. When they turned eighteen they told everyone that they didn't want a party or anything--that they were just going to hang out together. It was a really hot day, and they were alone at her house, in her bedroom, trying to get relief from the heat. Mark took off his shirt, leaving him just in his shorts. 'Why is it okay for boys to take off their shirts, but not girls,' Deborah complained. 'We have the right to cool down, too.'

Mark had shrugged. 'I don't know, Deb. Go ahead and take off your shirt if you want. I don't care.'

Deborah didn't hesitate; she took off her t-shirt and then, after a glare at Mark's bare chest, removed her bra. Mark had grinned at her and challenged 'Shorts, too,' and stepped out of his, keeping on his white cotton briefs. Deborah quickly stripped off her shorts, then mischievously upped the challenge--'and underpants.'

Matching action to words, she stood in front of him naked. After a brief hesitation Mark got naked as well. They eyed each other curiously before sitting down on the bed, a comfortable distance apart.

Deborah stared as Mark's penis swelled and grew hard and erect. 'That's neat!' she breathed, in awe. 'Does that mean you think I'm sexy?'

Mark blushed. 'Umm, yeah--I guess.'

Deborah reached her hand out towards Mark's groin. "Can I touch it?"

Mark swallowed. 'O-okay.'

Deborah touched her fingers to the soft, pink skin covering his swollen shaft. Gathering her courage she leaned forward and circled her fingers around it. Mark gasped in pleasure.

'You like that?'

Mark nodded, 'Uh-huh.'

She slid her hand back and forth, and giggled as Mark moaned in delight. Moving beside him, Deborah pumped her hand up and down. It only took a few minutes for Mark to ejaculate, gasping and crying. Deborah laughed in glee, feeling unaccountably proud of what she'd done.

He used her bathroom to clean up, then came back to sit on the bed. 'Is it okay if I touch you?'

Deborah blushed. 'Okay.' She lay back and opened her legs, letting him see between.

Mark explored her carefully, his fingers curious and gentle. Deborah liked the feeling of him touching her. It felt nice, but nothing more. She'd hoped to feel what Mark had felt when she touched him.

'Mark, nothing's happening.' She sat up and pointed to his erect penis. 'Maybe if you put that inside me?'

'You mean--have sex with you?'

'Uh-huh. It's our eighteenth birthday. Let's do it.'

'Um, I don't have any protection.'

'You can feel when you're about to shoot, right?'

"Uh-huh.'

'Then just do that on my tummy--not inside.'

She lay back; Mark positioned himself above her and awkwardly pushed in. Deborah let out a yelp of pain, and Mark stopped.

'No, don't stop. I'm a virgin, remember. I think it's supposed to hurt a little.'

'Are you sure? I don't want to hurt you.'

'I'm sure. I want to do this.'

Mark eased in and started pumping. Deborah tried to ignore the discomfort. She'd hoped that having sex would get her excited, but it didn't seem to be working. Seeing the pleasure on Mark's face, she decided to hold on until he was finished. His movements inside her became more frenzied, and suddenly he pulled out and collapsed on her, gasping and moaning, his penis pulsing against her belly, making it wet and sticky.

"Mark climaxed, but not me," Deborah told her.

"How did you feel, having sex with him?"

"Well, it hurt a bit, but I didn't mind that. I liked seeing his pleasure, and that I could do that to him."

"Oral sex?"

Deborah blushed. "Not with Mark, no."

Teresa nodded and made some notes. "Have you been checked out medically?"

Deborah nodded. "Yes, several times. I've got no physical abnormalities and my hormone levels are all within normal parameters. One doctor suggested I try anti-anxiety medication, but I haven't."

"Masturbation? Sex toys? Alcohol? Drugs?"

"Tried them all. Touching myself feels pleasant, and so do vibrators, but that's all. And booze and weed don't do anything for me."

She'd tried last summer, again with her best friend, Mark. She'd talked with him about her inability to orgasm, and they'd tried smoking a joint together. They'd got giggly and silly, and he had touched her, but she hadn't got aroused. One night when her parents were away, she'd picked up a cheap bottle of booze and invited Mark over. 'Maybe I've got some deep-seated inhibition that's stopping me from having orgasms,' she'd said to him. 'I'm going to get good and drunk, and you're going to have sex with me. Whatever you want to do--I don't care. Just... let me know how it goes tomorrow.'

The next day she had a ferocious hangover, and between her legs was very sore. 'Did anything happen?' she asked Mark that afternoon. 'You downed half the bottle,' he told her, 'and you were really out of it' He looked apologetic. 'Please don't ask me to do anything like that again. I did what you asked and I banged you as long as I could. You just lay there. Just so you know I used a condom and I did get off, but it wasn't a lot of fun.'

"Have you had any sexual experiences with girls?"

Deborah nodded, her face pink. "Uh-huh. Mark and I talked a lot about why I couldn't orgasm. He suggested I see if I'd be more successful trying it with a girl."

A former classmate of Deborah's, Joanne, had once confided that she was attracted to her. Deborah had approached her, asking if she wanted to get together. She was terrified when Jo said yes, but they agreed to split the rent of a motel room, and spend the night together. When Jo made the first move, initiating a tender kiss, Deborah dived in, and soon they were naked together. Deborah still reminisced about the feeling of Jo's naked body wrapped around hers.

"So I did, and it was nice--very nice--but nothing happened then, either. For me at least."

"Oral sex with her?

"Yes."

"And how did you feel about that?"

"Her tongue on me felt nice, but she couldn't make me come. I enjoyed doing that to her. Her orgasm was amazing, but all it did was make me realize how much I was missing."

"So you'd be equally fine being paired with a man or a woman?"

"Paired?"

"At this stage we're mostly just collecting data, so we pair our volunteers randomly. We ask each pairing to touch each other, and we collect the data that is generated."

"So I could be paired with anyone--man or woman, gay or straight? And we just touch each other? Sexually?"

"Touch each other, yes. Sexually? We're not asking you to. It's completely up to the couple if they want to or not. Our focus right now is just simple touching--hands, face, arms and shoulders, maybe the chest. You'll both be naked, of course. The monolayer right now is a little fragile, and clothing might compromise it. You'll be wearing contact lenses that will blur the features of whomever you're paired with, so you won't be able to recognize them afterwards.

"We encourage you to talk to each other, but we ask that you don't give away personal information. The rooms are like small hotel rooms, and they are very dimly lit. You'll introduce yourself using a name we give you, and then decide how you will begin. It might be with a hand to the face, or shoulder, or arm--perhaps a kiss. How you proceed is up to each pairing. It's quite possible that nothing will happen--you won't feel anything from the touch. We hope, though that something will happen, that you will feel enough to explore further. But as I said, how far you might go is up to you."

"So you'll be recording us? Cameras? Microphones?"

"No. We will have someone monitoring you, just to make sure that everyone is safe and comfortable. If anything happens that we think is unsafe or not appropriate, we'll stop it immediately.

"The monomolecular membrane does collect data that we record. The monolayer covers

all

of your skin, including your orifices--vagina, anus, ureter, ear canals, nostrils. We even ask you to drink some to coat your mouth, tongue, and throat. The monolayer amplifies the touch sensations and simultaneously collects the electrical impulses from your skin. We attach a tiny transmitter to you that broadcasts the signals from the monolayer to a receiver. The monolayer also completely protects the integrity of the skin."

"So--no viruses or bacteria can get in. No possibility of catching anything."

"Correct. Also no chance of getting pregnant."

"Pregnant? I thought you said no sexual touching."

Teresa's voice softened. "We're not asking you to touch erotically, but we don't limit you. If a pairing decides mutually that they want to explore, we don't stop them." She leaned forward conspiratorially. "I shouldn't be telling you this; although our results so far are promising, we've only had two or three pairings that actually became intimate."

Deborah felt vaguely disappointed. "So this is a one-time thing? I enter your experiment, you collect the data, and I never hear from you again?"

Teresa pursed her lips. "Most of the time, yes, that's right. We've been testing and modifying for two years now, and so far we've found four people who demonstrate a strong affinity for the monolayers. We use them quite frequently, and we're always looking for more people who respond well."

"How many people have you tested so far?"

"I think we're up to twelve hundred." Teresa tapped some keys on her tablet. "That's all the information I need. Do you have any questions?"

Deborah shook her head. "Not right now."

"Okay. Now I just have to make sure you understand. You will be naked through the whole process, and you will be seen naked by other people. Are you alright with that?"

Deborah thought of herself as fairly open about nudity She had few reservations about her body. Many people had told her she was gorgeous; some even commented she looked like Marilyn Monroe. She was above average height, almost five foot six, and well-built, with fair skin, curly blonde hair that passed her shoulders, and blue eyes. She followed a weight-training regimen to keep herself in shape. Her breasts were her best feature, the first thing that men's eyes focused on, although her hips, bottom and legs were not far behind. Her stomach and abdomen were flat and firm, and her waist was small. Her pubic hair had come in a light ginger, and she kept it neatly trimmed.

"Yes, I think so," she answered.

"Well, then, let's get you started."

"Now?"

"A volunteer who was supposed to be here this morning hasn't showed up, so we have an empty slot. You said you had two hours to spare. It won't take longer than that. Are you having second thoughts?"

"Uh, no."

"Good. I'll just ask you to sign a few consent forms. There's also a non-disclosure agreement."

It took about ten minutes for Deborah to go through the forms. Teresa collected the papers from her. "Are you wearing contact lenses?"

"No," Deborah replied.

"Do you have your period?"

"No."

"Okay. Then I'll ask you to please remove your clothes, and leave them here. Our technicians are waiting just inside the door behind me,"

Deborah took a deep breath and quickly removed her green, turtleneck sweater, her sneakers and socks, then her blue jeans, Underneath she had on a pink camisole and matching bikini panties. Her full breasts were firm and well-supported, enough that she didn't need a bra. It took only another moment to remove her undergarments and stand naked in front of Teresa.

Teresa opened the door for her. "Good luck."

"Thank you."

Deborah found herself in a large room with tiled walls and floor, the floor sloping slightly inwards to a large drain. Surrounding the drain was a raised, semi-circular dais. Three female technicians were waiting for her, dressed in skin-tight, hooded wet suits. Masks and goggles hid their faces.

"We need you to stand on the platform," said the woman in the orange and black wet suit.

The other two--one in red and green, the other in blue and pink--assisted her onto the dais.

"Stand with your feet well apart, and your arms outstretched at shoulder height," instructed orange/black.

Deborah did as she asked.

"This is no reflection on your personal hygiene," said the technician, "but we have to specially clean your skin before we apply the monolayer."

All three of them took spray hoses and dowsed Deborah with a warm, pleasant-smelling spray, and dried her off with warm air. The techs then equipped themselves with bright yellow sprayers.

"We need you to close your eyes and open your mouth," the orange/black wet suit told her. "We are going to apply this

everywhere

. Some of it might feel a bit weird."

Deborah felt a tingle as the spray hit her skin, but it wasn't unpleasant. She had some momentary discomfort when spray went up her nose and into her ears. Her arms, legs, and torso were dealt with quickly, and she obediently lifted her legs one at a time so they could coat the soles of her feet. The blue and pink tech knelt in front of her between her legs.

"This is going to feel quite intimate," she said to Deborah, "but it shouldn't be uncomfortable. Please let me know when the stream hits your cervix."

Deborah had undergone a number of pectoral exams trying to determine the reason for her sexual non-responsiveness, so she steeled herself for something similar. To her surprise the warm stream of liquid invading her vagina felt quite pleasant. She shivered as the stream struck her cervix.

"Ah, I found it, didn't I?" the blue and pink tech giggled.

Deborah was surprised. "Is that what that was?"

"That little shiver you felt--I think you're connecting to the monolayer already. That's a good sign."

They finished spraying her. The red and green suited tech gave her a cup with some liquid in it. "Drink this. It's not bad tasting."

It actually wasn't much different from warm water, and Deborah swallowed it down.

The orange/black tech held up her forefinger, showing Deborah what looked like a small sequin. "This lets us record signals from your suit. I'm just going to stick it to your belly button."

"Okay," the tech said when she was done. "Let's test you out. Touch your left hand with your right."

Deborah did as she was told; the feeling of her fingers against her skin felt more intense than she was used to. The tech nodded. "Good. Now touch your breast and nipple."