Chapter 4

"Frankly, Debbie," Jason told me one afternoon after I'd turned in my latest data, "you're work for us has been terrific. You seem to be able to compile input that even the most experienced and educated practitioners have difficulty with. In other words, you're a real pro." I didn't know what to say... I'd never been more pleased by any compliment in my life.

"That is why," he continued, "I've had a little talk with the board of directors, and we've decided to put you, along with another of our outstanding volunteers, on salary." "You mean I'll actually be working for you?" I gushed.

"Yes," he smiled that winning display of teeth of his.

"Will my duties remain the same?" "No, considering your expertise, they'll be intensified. You and our other selection for professional staff status will be working together as a team on particularly significant and challenging respondents. That is why I want you to get acquainted with her as quickly as possible." "Who is she?" "Her name is Gloria Schaffer and she lives at-" "But I already know her," I interrupted. "We've been friends for years." "Perfect," he replied with obvious satisfaction. "I suppose we should have known that two women with such similar ability in the same area would be acquainted. You know the old saying... birds of a feather flock together." "Then you want Gloria and I to get together and compare notes," I efficiently picked up the ball and ran with it, "before we start on our next assignment." "Precisely," he said.

"Well, frankly," Gloria said over a drink at her house, "I'm willing to go all the way to get the right answers to the questions." "So am I," I replied, wondering if her interpretation of such ultimate dedication to the S.E.X. Report was as comprehensive as mine. "Why don't we share techniques as they suggested at The Exchange?" "Okay," she grinned. "Why don't you go first?" "Why not?" I grinned back somewhat defensively, realizing that, like it or not, we were involved in a sort of competition. "Well, when I first start interviewing a guy, the first thing I ask him about is the size of his penis." "A guy?" she blurted, taking me completely by surprise with her sudden question.

"Of course." "You've been interviewing guys?" "Yes." "But I've been interviewing women," she said.

"No kidding?" I said, immediately intrigued. "What's the first thing you ask them?" "About their... well, you know, their pussies. Their cunts." "What... what?" I eagerly pumped her.

"Oh, usually I start with the question about how deep their orifices are. You know, how many inches of cock they can take." "How do they usually answer?"

"Well, it's kind of inconclusive," she told me. "It turns out that most women don't have a husband or a lover with a prick really large enough to give them a stiff test. Most women say that they enjoy sex, but they're usually left wanting mare." "Gee, that's really interesting. What else do you ask them?" "Well," she went on, "I've had a lot of interesting responses to the question about whether they've ever considered making love to another woman. The idea of it, you know, is that if they're dissatisfied with the orgasm a man can make them have, then maybe another woman could do better because she's so familiar with the features of the female anatomy." "What an interesting concept," I said. "How many of them actually give in to the temptation?" "Oh, a lot of them," she assured me. "And does it work?" I anxiously asked.

"In most cases," Gloria said. "It turns out that a few inches of another woman's tongue can, in many cases, accomplish twice as much as eight or ten inches of a man's hard-on. Fucking seems to be not just size, but in your partner knowing what to do." "I never really thought about it," I admitted, "but I'll have to agree it sounds plausible." "You mean you've never made it with another woman?" she asked without batting an eyelash.

"Have you?" I blurted.

"Of course," she grinned. "How do you think I get my questionnaires filled out so accurately?" There was nothing I could do but blush. After all, we'd been the only two volunteers accepted by S.E.X. for upgrading to professional status. Obviously, if one of us had achieved recognition through the technique of making love to her respondents of one sex, it stood to reason that the other was employing a similar method with her respondents of the opposite gender.

There was an awkward pause, during which we just looked at each other. Then Gloria broke the ice.

"You're fucking the guys, aren't you, Debbie?" I nodded my head.

"Would you make love to the women if you were interviewing them?" she quickly asked.

"I... I don't now," I stammered. "I guess I'd have to think about it." "Well, what are you going to do if you have to interview one and the answers don't come easily?" she pressed the point. "Especially if you should happen to draw a lesbian." I was at a loss for words. I'd been so thrilled to be upgraded to professional status by S.E.X., but for the first time I was realizing what responsibilities such a promotion entailed.

"Don't worry," Gloria said soothingly. "Maybe I can help you out." "I don't understand." "You will," she smiled, and got up and walked toward the couch where I was sitting.

"What are you doing?" I asked as she reached for the buttons on the front of my blouse.

"Undressing you," she replied evenly. "When my lesson is over you will have the confidence to interview anybody you run into-man or woman with an emphasis on the latter." "You mean," I gasped incredulously, "you expect to make love to me?" "Why not?" she grinned knowingly. "Never underestimate what another woman can do for you. Just a couple of weeks with SEX has taught me that much." Part of me wanted to resist, but a more overwhelming portion was transfixed by curiosity. Besides, Gloria's fingers were so expertly swift, that she had my blouse off of me before I could make a move.

Suddenly I was looking down at my own breasts. There was no way I could deny the obvious excitement with which they swelled out of the cups of my bra. It looked as if the bra were several sizes too small.

"I'll bet your nipples are hard," Gloria purred. "AS hard as pebbles." Before I could make an estimate as to their rigidity, Gloria was busily finding out for herself her fingers slipped under the lace of my bra and slipped under the mounds of my tits. Then, as though she were excavating them with a crane, she lifted the two hemispheres of flesh from their resting places. My bra-cups collapsed into wrinkly nothingness as my naked breasts abruptly bobbed free.

"Ahhhh," she licked her lips, "I knew I was right." She was.

My nipples were as erect as miniature hard-ons. They were sticking out at least an inch apiece.

Gloria's head immediately dropped to my chest, and her face plowed between my cleavage. Jiggling her cheeks against each of my tits, she shook her head and burrowed into the crux of my bosom as deeply as she could go.

Then, as I uncontrollably moaned from excitement, her hands shot up and covered my jugs. Her fingers seized my nipples and began twisting and squeezing them. I knew that tomorrow they would be black and blue, and, incredibly, I loved the idea of it.

"Mmmmmmmm, hurt me," I heard myself saying as though I were a witness to what was happening rather than a participant.

"Don't worry," Gloria assured me, "the fun is just beginning. I haven't even touched your cunt yet." It was an oversight that by now I hoped she wasn't going to waste any time taking care of.

As if she could read my mind, she inserted a knee between my opening thighs and rammed it against my crotch. My panties might as well have not been there as my pussy immediately drenched her gouging knee-cap.