The Experiment (12 page)

She stopped at the door and looked back. “And tell him I’m on to him now. I know exactly what his little experiment is all about. Do that for me, okay?”

Chapter Five

“Good evening, Doctor,” Zoe said, taking her accustomed place under the soft, white spotlight. She put her purse down at her side and crossed her legs, giving him a good look at her smooth legs in their dark stockings. She felt unusually poised tonight, calm and in control.

“Good evening, Zoe. I must say you’re looking very attractive this evening.” As always, the voice came from the darkness. Only his hands were visible under the cone of light from the green desk lamp. “You’ve had your hair cut?”

She smiled. “You noticed. I’m impressed, Doctor.”

“Oh yes. It’s quite becoming. But there’s something else too. A kind of glow. Things went well at the museum?”

There was more warmth in his voice than she’d ever heard before. It gave her courage.

“Yes and no,” she said.

“Oh?”

Zoe leaned back in her chair. She had something he wanted now—information—which gave her a bit of the upper hand.

“I’m afraid it wasn’t quite what I thought it would be,” she said. “You used me, didn’t you? You had me take care of a bit of your business with that young man.”

“I gave you what you wanted, Zoe. That’s what I said I’d do.”

“Was it fun?” she asked. “Did you enjoy making us hunt through the museum looking for each other? What sort of data did that generate for you, Doctor? Or did the idea of having me walk through the gallery trolling for love appeal to you?”

“It was a test,” he said. “You passed it admirably.”

Zoe didn’t reply, and so he went on. “I was trying to show you something, Zoe. I was trying to show you what kind of power you have. I was trying to show you that in this world of men and women looking for each other, you’re a very powerful player.”

His words took her aback. He’d never so much as hinted at his purposes in all the things he’d made her do to this point, and now to be told that he did it for her benefit shocked her. She didn’t believe him.

“And what did he say?” she asked. “What was his reaction?”

“Who?”

“Don’t toy with me, Doctor. That man I met. He must have reported back to you by now.”

The Doctor cleared his throat and sat up. “That’s confidential, Zoe. Just as anything you tell me is confidential. All I can tell you is that, for your part, you succeeded admirably in everything I’d hoped you would do. You’re an amazing subject, Zoe.”

Despite herself, his words brought forth an unexpected flush of pride from within her. Maybe he was using her as a whore, as some sort of sexual bait, but she was a good one and he was right, she did have some sort of sexual power. There was some perverse pride to be had from that.

“You weren’t satisfied?” he asked.

She had nothing to hide anymore. She had picked up a stranger in the art museum and taken him to a hotel room and fucked him, just because the Doctor had told her to. She was entirely exposed now and she was tired of playing games and talking to shadows.

“I thought it would be you,” she said levelly. “When I asked you to set this up, I thought you’d be the one.”

For the first time he was silent. He folded his hands under the light, but Zoe had become adept at reading him from the tiny, insignificant motions of his hands and she
could tell he was nervous. For the first time since she’d been coming here, he seemed unsure.

“Why would it have been me?” he asked.

Zoe drew herself up in her chair but she didn’t hesitate. “Because I wanted it to be. And because I think you wanted it to be too, didn’t you?”

He was silent. His hands didn’t move.

“Am I wrong?” she asked.

Zoe felt the silence gathering like a shadow. She knew he wouldn’t answer her and so she plunged ahead, unable to stop herself now.

“You’ve been using me, Doctor. You’ve been using me from the start. I don’t know why, but since I’ve been coming here you’ve been using me to turn other people on, to arouse them. I’ve been some sort of sexual surrogate for you, some sort of bait. The experiment isn’t about me at all, is it? It’s about them. It’s about what I do to them.”

His silence was complete. She felt the hot sting of tears in her eyes, but she didn’t know why.

“The first time,” she went on. “When I first came here, you had me undress, but that was just to see if I was willing, how far I’d go. That must have been gratifying, wasn’t it? Do you remember? I ended up masturbating for you, Doctor, even though you hadn’t said anything about that. The second time you had me arouse that man in the chair, turn him on and make him masturbate and I was good at that too, wasn’t I? I was very good at that. That must have been when you decided you had a live one on your hands, a girl who’d do anything.

“And then it was Amy. You wanted to see if I could get her off too, if I could arouse a woman and feel arousal in return, and I did.

“And now, this last time, you put me with a man who didn’t know if he could even perform with a woman. He thought he was gay and you wanted to see if I could get him off too, didn’t you? And I did. As you said, I have a talent. I’m good at this. But
now I want to know why. Why are you doing this to me? Because I have feelings too, Doctor. I’m more than just a subject in your precious experiment. I’m a person too, and I want to know why you’re doing this to me, damn it!”

She felt herself losing it. Her stomach was tied in a knot and she felt the hot streak of tears down her cheeks. It was all coming out now, all the frustration and confusion and the tangled welter of feelings, all the shame and the doubt she’d felt, the repressed anger and rage.

“While you were using me, you were doing things to me too,” she said. “You were bringing something to life inside me, some part of me I thought was dead. You were arousing me as well, with all those things you were making me do. You were making me need it again, Doctor, people and love and all the feelings that go with it, all that mess I’d thought I was done with. You must have known that would happen. You must have known I’d be affected too. You’re the clever one. You must have known I’d develop feelings for you.”

She saw the hands reach for the chain on the lamp.

“You’re overwrought, Zoe, I suggest we postpone tonight’s session…”

“No!” Zoe jumped to her feet. “No! You can’t just get rid of me this way! I want to see you. At least give me that! I can’t stand this darkness anymore, this not knowing…”

His fingers grasped the chain and he pulled it and his end of the room went dark, leaving Zoe sitting alone in her little cone of white light.

“That’s enough, Zoe,” he said.

She saw his shadow as he stood up, and finally she couldn’t stand it any longer. She pushed herself out of the chair and strode the few steps to the desk, bumped into it with her thighs in the darkness. She fumbled around on the desk and gasped as she accidentally found the warmth of his hand. She felt for the lamp, found the chain and turned it on.

He hadn’t moved. He stood right behind his chair as if waiting, and Zoe spun the shade upward so the light was right in his face.

And there he was.

He looked just like she had imagined—a handsome man, mature, in the prime of life—intelligent, capable, yet with an unexpected sadness in his eyes, a sadness that now made her regret her actions. He looked so exposed.

She tried to push the shade down to get the light out of his eyes but he stopped her, grabbing her hand.

“You might as well see,” he said. “Do I look as you’d imagined?”

She couldn’t speak. She had broken the protocol and violated his trust and now she had gained the sight of him, but lost everything else. Even as she stared at him, unable to move her eyes, she felt him slipping away from her like a receding tide, taking all the magic with him—the darkness, the mysteries, the possibilities. She hadn’t expected this.

The Doctor let her look, then he turned and went to the wall and hit a switch. The room filled with light, and for the first time Zoe was able to see where she’d sat for all those sessions of the experiment—a large room and rather shabby, partitioned down the middle with the Plexiglas barrier, the raw drywall at its base only partially finished. There was his desk and behind it some stacks of cardboard boxes and paint cans, as if the room were also used for storage. There was her chair and the table next to it holding her glass of water and box of tissues, his desk and chair with a wastepaper basket beside it. The carpet was new, the walls only partially painted. It was a room still under construction. It all looked so commonplace and almost sordid.

All the magic was gone, all the mystery and secrecy. Zoe looked at him in horror at what she’d done and he looked back at her with an indulgent sadness that made her heart sink—no accusation or anger, just a weary sadness.

“This is yours,” he said, pushing the five fifty-dollar bills at her. “Just for coming tonight, as per our agreement. I think that’s enough for tonight, Zoe. I think that’s more than enough.”

“I don’t want the money,” she said. “It’s never been about the money.”

He looked at her and she saw the feeling of betrayal in his eyes. She was suddenly conscious of standing next to a man, a man who had seen her body, seen her desire and vulnerability and all her naked need, and now, in the simple act of turning on a light, she had betrayed him and betrayed the relationship they’d had together.

“I know that,” he said. “But still, it’s yours.”

He turned and stepped toward the door, the door he always disappeared through. Zoe saw now that it led into a room painted Chinese red, a snug, masculine room lined with books and sculpture, some sort of private office or library, part of his home where she’s never be allowed to go.

“I think our work is finished here. Zoe, I’m sorry.”

Before Zoe could react, he stepped into the room and closed the door.

“Wait!” she cried. “You can’t just leave like this! Doctor?”

She rushed to the door but it was locked. She pressed her ear against it and heard other doors closing. He was slipping away from her, retreating in his house. He was gone.

She went back to her chair, as if resuming her place would cause him to reappear, and sat down, bewildered, shocked at what she’d done. After some minutes, the door behind her—the door she always used—opened, and Amy came in.

Amy was of little help and it quickly became apparent that she’d been told to hustle Zoe out as expeditiously as possible. She paid polite attention to Zoe’s story of what had happened, how she’d turned on the light, just to see what he looked like, just for a moment, but she offered little sympathy, smiling with a politeness that Zoe wanted to throw in her face. She’d seen Amy naked, for God’s sake. She’d brought the girl to orgasm with her hand, had kissed her like a lover. Didn’t that mean anything?

Apparently not. As always when she served as the Doctor’s assistant for these sessions, Amy remained quite uninvolved. Her job was to see Zoe to the door, and the iciness of her treatment just underscored the gravity of Zoe’s transgression. Amy was sorry for her, but could offer little sympathy.

Zoe tried to explain that she hadn’t meant to do it. She’d been emotionally upset and overwrought. Even the Doctor had said so. Amy got her coat and saw her to the door and at the last minute, just before she crowded Zoe into the hall, pressed the folded bills into Zoe’s hand. The look on her face as she pushed the door closed told Zoe there was no use in arguing.

It wasn’t until she was out in the elevator that she realized she was being dismissed, that for her, the experiment was over.

* * * * *

She felt lost now as she hadn’t felt in months, and wandered the streets back to her apartment in a fog of recrimination and confusion. This was how she had felt after the final breakup with Jack—numb, disbelieving, and purposeless. It was silly, she knew. Her relationship with the Doctor was nothing like what she’d had with Jack. The experiment was contrived, artificial, the person she’d been in the experiment room was not who she really was and the things she’d been manipulated into doing were so unlike her that she could scarcely believe she’d even done them. Already the whole affair had the feeling of a dream or a film she’d been watching and now she had the same feeling of disorientation she had when she walked out of the theater after seeing some emotionally draining movie. The world was drab and ugly in a tedious kind of way, commonplace.

But there was a difference now. There was none of the exhaustion she’d felt after breaking up with Jack, none of the personal hurt and feeling of being deeply wounded. Instead there was a hunger and anxiety that forced her to stop at every corner and try and catch a glimpse of the Doctor’s building, as if she’d see some sign that he wanted her back. She couldn’t believe it was over. Not that quickly, not that easily.

There was the slick feel of the new bills in her pocket and as she held these in her hand she remembered the cameras back in her apartment. They’d been installed the previous day, while she’d been at work, and she assumed they were operational. Communications hadn’t been severed. She still had a way of talking to him. She knew
he’d be watching. He had to be. She hurried home, opened her front door and ran up the stairs with a growing sense of excitement.