Chapter 5

"Mrs. Travers?" asked Eric as the attractive young woman answered the door.

"Yes, I'm Tammy Travers. You must be Eric Rochet. Please come in."

As the self assured young man entered the small frame house he surreptitiously

gave the young housewife the once over and turned on the small recorder which lay concealed in his pocket.

Not bad, he thought, not bad at all. The honey blonde was even more beautiful than her high school picture. Her bright blue eyes were large and expressive, her mouth small but the lips full giving her both a youthful and innocent appearance while, at the same time, conveying an adult sensuousness which Eric found alluring. Her body was that of a Barbie Doll, long curvaceous legs, tiny waist, her hips ample yet firm like her full breasts which still rode high on her chest. Yes, he thought, he was going to enjoy her a great deal.

"I... I've never been part of a college study before," she began, offering him a seat.

"Well, I want you to know how much I appreciate your agreeing to participate in the survey," he replied. "As I explained on the phone earlier, all names are kept confidential and all the information you provide is grouped for statistical analysis. No individual responses are reported."

"So no one will ever know what I said?"

"Exactly. The information is reported only as: When one thousand women were asked blah, blah, blah, 640 responded yes, 320 responded no while 40 had no opinion."

"Well, that makes me feel a little better. When you told me you wanted to ask questions about our marriage..."

"Most of the questions are rather innocuous. A few do deal with some rather personal issues, but of course you can simply choose not to answer if you want."

"Won't that throw off your findings?"

"Well, it doesn't help, but..."

Tammy Travers had found the man extremely handsome the moment she had met him, but his charm and manner were rapidly winning over what had been initially a rather reluctant recruit for his "study". After doing some internet and personal research on her and her husband, Eric had decided to use this approach. Anything more direct would first be harder to arrange and secondly more likely to scare her off. So he had called and explained that she had been selected randomly by computer, the nature of the study he was doing on issues confronting the married American female, his soft, easy going, yet confident voice quickly gaining her confidence and finally her agreement to allow him to visit her for an interview. He had explained that the study was to be a compilation of female points of view, that males would be interviewed in a follow-up study and that, in fact, even the husband's presence would skew the results by applying even unintended pressures and therefore prevent absolutely frank and honest answers. Reluctant at first, the young housewife, in her naivety, had finally agreed to a private interview during the middle of the afternoon while her husband was at work.

Would you like something to drink... a soda, some iced tea?" she asked, wondering to herself why she was being so hospitable to someone she had just met.

"Iced Tea would be fine."

He took out some standard response sheets from one of his earlier psychology classes as she brought his drink.

"You have a lovely home," he observed, even though the house was quite modest and the furnishings unremarkable.

"Thank you, Mr. Rochet."

"Please, call me Eric. Mr. Rochet makes me feel as if I should be smoking a pipe and discoursing on the sex life of the Yellow Bellied Sapsucker."

They both laughed, he noting her body language indicated she was now more relaxed.

"All right Eric, if you'll call me Tammy."

"Great. Okay Tammy, ready?"

She nodded, her all American girl smile accentuating both her loveliness and innocence.

The first few minutes were spent in his asking rather mundane questions about how long she had been married (two years), where they had lived previously (they had never lived anywhere else), whether she worked outside the home (no) and other such questions designed to put her at ease, yet each revealing a bit more about her, her husband and their marriage. As he perceived her becoming comfortable with him and the questions, he began to slowly turn up the charm and the questions gradually began to take on more personal overtones.

"The questions I've asked so far are just for background and to place you statistically in groups with other couples. What I would like to do now is get to the what the study is really all about -- how you feel about your marriage, how happy you are."

"Oh, Michael and I couldn't be happier," she beamed.

"Yes, I'm sure," he smiled. "Ready?"

She nodded.

"How old were you when you met your husband?"

"Michael and I started dating in junior high... I guess about fourteen."

"That's pretty young. How many other boys did you date before you and your husband began dating?"

"Uh, well... none! Michael was the only boy I ever dated."

"You mean you've never dated anyone else?" he asked.

"No one. Once we started dating, neither of us wanted to date anyone else."

"You never wanted to date anyone else?"

"No. Why should I?"

"Well, how could you know Michael was the one -- without a basis for comparison?"

She seemed a bit flustered.

"I... I... I just did, that's all."

"Of course," he responded, inwardly knowing the seed had been sown.

"How satisfied with your marriage are you?" he asked putting pencil to paper.

"Very satisfied," she responded a bit defensively.

"On a scale of one to ten, how handsome would you say your husband is?"

"A ten!" she responded a bit too quickly.

"Honestly? We are alone you know and no one else will ever know."

She looked at the handsome, masculine hunk before her. Eric had found a picture of Michael. Not bad looking, but hardly a candidate for male modeling either. His hair was receding prematurely and even in the short time they had been married, his waistline had increased by three belt notches.

"Well," she smiled conspiratorially, "they can't all be as good looking as you, Eric."

He smiled, charmingly.

"So... ?"

"Okay, so maybe an eight."

She took another look at the young man sitting across from her.

"Or maybe... a seven."

He wrote the number on the form, very satisfied with how the "interview" was progressing.

"On the same scale, how thoughtful is he? Remembering special occasions, taking you to dinner, sending flowers?"

She pondered the question.

"Well he did forget our anniversary this year... but he'd been so busy and..."

Eric caught and held her eyes.

"I can't imagine any man forgetting the day he married a woman like you."

Tammy reddened and averted her eyes.

"I... guess a seven on that as well."

"Now remember, no one but us will ever know. Have you ever been unfaithful?

"No! Why would I?"

"Oh, perhaps to find out what you've never had a chance to experience."

"I... I don't need to. I'm very satisfied with Michael."

But there was an element of doubt creeping into her voice.

"Again, how could you know you're satisfied if you've never..."

She reddened further, her self assured image of her perfect marriage beginning to erode.

"I just do."

"Again on a one to ten scale, how would you rate your sex life?"

Now the young housewife was thoroughly ill at ease. She paused for a long moment before answering.

"You're going to tell me I have no basis for comparison again, aren't you?" she asked.

"You're answering the questions Tammy. All I'm trying to do is to get you to be honest... with me and yourself."

"What does that mean?"

"Just that many of the women who have taken the survey have indicated that they had never realized a lot of things about their marriage until they answered these questions."

"You mean that they weren't really happy?"

"Sometimes."

"What about the ones like me?"

"You mean the women who never had the chance to experience... diversity?"

"What did they learn?"

He knew she was reaching now, curious, a bit titillated but still so innocent as to be easily driven away.

"They learned how little they knew."

Again he saw the defensiveness return to her eyes.

"Well, I know all I need to."

"Of course," he responded. "Now back to the questionnaire. On a one to ten scale how would your rate your sex life?"

She reddened again, averting her eyes.

"A... ten! No wait... a nine... I guess."

"Why a nine? Why not a ten?" he asked.

"It's just that sometimes I wish Michael would..."

"Would what?"

"Well, you know -- not be in such a hurry."

"Do you orgasm?"

Again there was the defensiveness.

"I don't think that's any of your..."

"It's okay, if you don't want to admit..."

"Admit what? I've had orgasms!"

"How many?"

"Plenty!"

"How often do you orgasm? Truthfully. "

"I... I... I... well it's not that important!"

"Really?"

"Well, it's just that Michael always seems to... to..."

"Climax before you're ready?

"Yes. He's finished before I'm even half way there."

He looked at her for a long moment.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Oh, nothing. I just think it's a shame that a beautiful woman like you isn't kept satisfied."

Her look tried to be convincing but fell far short.

"I'm satisfied, really I am."

"How many sexual positions do you and Michael use?" he asked, scribbling some meaningless notes on the form to continue the illusion of the survey.

"He's on top. Isn't that the way it's supposed to be?" she asked innocently.

"Tammy, there are scores of different positions and techniques. How about oral sex?"

Her face brightened again with embarrassment.

"I... do it to him, but..."

"But he doesn't reciprocate?"

"No. He says men don't do that."

Eric shook his head as if in disbelief.

"Do they?" she asked