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The Study

It all started with an ad I saw posted on campus. It read:

"Seeking individuals between the ages of 20-25 to participate in a psychological study on human sexual attraction. Participation will require a commitment of 4-6 hours per week (on-site). Participants must be heterosexual in orientation and willing to abstain from any encounters of sexual nature outside of the clinical setting during the four-week duration of the study. Participants who are selected and successfully participate the full study will receive $10,000 in compensation. Participants who do not successfully complete the study will be compensated only for their actual hours of participation at a rate of $25 per hour."

I was 23 at the time, a financially-strapped grad student at the University of Wisconsin in Madison. I was two months behind in my rent and the student loans kept piling up. My parents were no help. So there was one thing that immediately stood out to me about the ad: $10,000. That was an enormous sum of money for me at the time.

But on second read, the phrase that really captured my imagination was the part about abstaining from sexual encounters outside of the clinical setting. Outside of the clinical setting? Did that mean the study involved sexual encounters within the clinical setting? Was there any other way to read that?

Needless to say, I was intrigued. I didn't have a girlfriend at the time and didn't have much time to go looking for one, so the odds were strong that I'd be "abstaining from sexual encounters" anyway, regardless of whether I participated in the study or not. So I might as well try to earn $10,000 for my trouble. I ripped off one of the paper tabs from the poster and sent an email to the address printed on it as soon as I got back to my apartment.


When I showed up outside the psychology department a week later, as I'd been instructed to do in the reply email, there were a number of outdoor tables set up and hundreds of students milling about. I checked in at one of the tables and was given a number, as well as a stack of medical forms and other paperwork to fill out. As I took a seat on the building's front steps to begin filling out the paperwork, I overheard two girls talking.

"... they would have to tell us that ahead of time, right? I mean, I'm not gonna screw some random guy in the name of science. I don't care how much they're paying me." The one who was talking was very cute, in a girl-next-door sort of way. She had thick, curly brown hair pulled back in simple pony tail. She was dressed in a tight baby blue t-shirt and jeans that showed off her slender figure.

"I don't think they're gonna tell us much of anything. This is psychology. They like to fuck with your mind, keep you guessing. You can always walk away, though. That's your out. But I'll tell you, there's not a lot I would walk away from if it meant losing $10,000." The other girl was attractive too, but much more done up. She had long straight black hair, wore lots of makeup, and looked and sounded like your typical sorority girl.

"Maybe that's the point, maybe this is just a way of testing us to see if we're willing to whore ourselves out if the price is right. It's like what's that movie ... the one with Robert Redford?"

"Indecent Proposal"

"Yeah that one."

"Look, Abby, if there's a guy like Robert Redford in there, I'd do him for ten grand."

"Yeah, well, that's because you're a whore." The line was delivered so deadpan that, for a moment, I couldn't tell if it was meant in jest or not. But a moment later, both girls started cracking up. Something about the first one's mischievous smile, her sarcasm, the way she held herself, even the inflection of her voice, it all suggested a real intelligence and personality. I liked this girl. Her friend had called her Abby. I filed that bit of information away and went back to filling out the forms.

The first few were your typical medical history and disclosure forms, including a signature line seeking authority to collect and review medical records. But then it got more interesting. One document was a lengthy survey that asked detailed questions about my sexual history and preferences. It asked how many people I'd hooked up with, had oral sex with, and had sexual intercourse with. It asked whether I'd ever had any homosexual encounters or desires. There were questions about various types of sexual fetishes, some I'd heard of and some I hadn't. It asked how often I masturbated and what kind of pornography I masturbated to. There were 15 pages of these questions, which I tried to answer as honestly as I could.

Then I got to the waivers. They looked to be mostly boiler-plate legalese, but some of the lines were interesting. The document warned that psychological studies sometimes require the withholding of information from or even active deception of the study participants in order to create the conditions necessary for the experiment to be successful. Reassuringly, the document emphasized that study participants may, at any time, choose to withdraw from the study and will not be forced to engage in any conduct, sexual or otherwise, without their consent. In the very next sentence, though, it noted that the university could not be held liable for any "emotional or physical consequences resulting from the voluntary acts, sexual or otherwise, of study participants."

By the time my number was called, I'd completed and signed every form. I was led into an empty white room that had a video camera in one corner and a one-way mirror on one of the walls. Presumably someone was on the other side watching me, but all I could see was my own reflection. After a few minutes, a woman came into the room. She was strikingly attractive. She looked to be of Indian or possibly Middle Eastern descent, beautiful, with straight, black hair that flowed over her white lab coat. She was maybe 30 years old, no more. When she spoke, it was with a British accent tinged with something else. My guess was she learned English in the UK but it was a second language to her.

"Hello ... Jake," she said as she looked for and finally found my name on the form. "I'm Dr. Rupi Kaur. As a part of our screening process, I'm going to ask you some very personal questions. Please answer them completely and honestly. We're looking for subjects who will be capable of giving us the kind of candid insight that we need for this study to be successful."

"Understood. I'll do my best."

"Please describe for me the first time you had sexual intercourse. I don't want any names, but I do want you to describe the circumstances in some detail."

I did as I was asked, giving a very thorough account of my encounter with a girl in my freshman year of college. I told her everything I could remember, including the part where I had trouble getting the condom on and the fact that the whole encounter lasted about 30 seconds.

Next, she asked me about my most embarrassing sexual encounter. I told her about the sexy grad student with the short black hair who had come on strong and invited me back to her place. I told her about the performance anxiety that had gripped me and how her frustration with me had only compounded the issue.

Finally, she asked about my most erotic encounter. I told her about the one and only threesome I'd ever been a part of, back when I was living in Japan. I spared no detail. While Dr. Kaur kept a stoic expression throughout, I could tell from her body language that she was far more interested in my threesome story than anything else I'd shared up to that point. She seemed to hang on my every word, scribbling notes occasionally.

When I was done with the story, she thanked me for my candour and told me that they would be in touch. She said that if I was chosen for the study, it would begin in exactly one week.


I received an email two days later from Dr. Kaur indicating that I had been selected to participate in the study. I was told to report to the psychology building starting Monday at 9:00 am. But then came the weird part. The email said that, in order to establish the necessary baseline for the first experiment, all study participants were required to masturbate to orgasm exactly two days before reporting for the study and to refrain from any sexual stimulation from that point on. So when Saturday morning rolled around, I woke up and dutifully rubbed one out. Then two days later I reported for duty, somewhat apprehensively.

When I arrived, I was ushered into a lecture hall on the first floor. I was one of the first people in the room, but by the time they closed the doors there were 11 others. It looked to be an even male/female split; six guys, six girls. I immediately noticed that everyone was young, fit, and attractive, which was definitely not the case the week before, during the signup process. They must have only selected people who fit a certain profile, a thought which was immediately flattering in its implications. I considered myself a decent looking guy, six foot tall, short brown hair, a slender but athletic build, but to have satisfied whatever selection criteria resulted in this group certainly gave a boost to my self-esteem.

I looked around for familiar faces and eventually spotted one, the girl whose conversation I'd overheard the week before. It took me a moment, but I eventually remembered her name: Abby. At the front of the room were 12 people who appeared to be faculty. They were all dressed in white lab coats. One of them was Dr. Kaur. They too were evenly divided, six men and six women, and all were relatively young (none older than their early 40s) and reasonably good-looking.

Eventually, a man standing next to Dr. Kaur broke the silence. "Hello everyone, my name is Dr. Snyder, and I'm a member of the faculty here. We appreciate you agreeing to participate in this important study and know that you must have many questions.
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