“I’ll do it.”
Chapter Four
Hair: Blonde. Eyes: blue. Bra size? Matt paused at that one. Did he want to be honest and admit he was a total dick, say 34 DD? Or did he want to pretend something like that didn’t matter. Hell. He scribbled 34 D, dropping the extra D just to keep himself from being a complete douchebag. Height, weight, hobbies. This was a lot like those two geeks in Weird Science, pulling pictures from magazines and creating the perfect woman, but why not, right? If they were asking him what he wanted, he might as well ask for it all.
“How important is a sense of humor?” He thought about that one, tapping his pen against his lips. Randy and Ada had left him alone to fill out the paperwork, but he wasn’t convinced there wasn’t some sort of monitoring going on. He might not know a lot about how psych department experiments worked, but he was going to assume he was being recorded until proven otherwise. “Very important.”
The next question, though, made him laugh. “If you meet a woman with an excellent sense of humor and obvious intelligence, but her physical appearance isn’t up to your standards, would you ask her out anyway?”
No. Might as well be honest for the sake of the experiment, right? Didn’t want to skew the results.
“If you end up going out with a woman, for example on a blind date, who exhibits all the traits you’re looking for in a mate, but again her physical appearance isn’t to your standards, do you have sex with her if the opportunity arises?”
Yes. He hesitated on that one, thinking of the old “chew your arm off in the morning” jokes, but the fact was, Matt had slept with ugly chicks in the past because the desire to get laid overrode any sort of other need. Had he done it lately, even in the past few years? No. But he had, and he was going to guess he would again, if the situation were right.
It took him forty-five minutes to answer all the questions, and by the end of it, his hand had cramped. They’d explained to him already what the experiment entailed, reassuring him over and over again that he wouldn’t have to sleep with anyone if he didn’t want to. That he wasn’t being paid to have sex. That he’d have to spend five nights in a row with this random chick, chosen as his partner based on what he’d filled out. He wanted to make sure he gave them all the information necessary to hook him up with someone just right.
Less than twenty-four hours later, in the shower as he got ready for the evening out with the “bros,” Matt froze with his fingers knuckle-deep in lather on his skull. He was about to get set up on what could be the worse or best blind date, ever.
He was still thinking about it when he got to the bar where Damian had said they’d all be. And there they were, a bunch of his fraternity brothers, most of them younger and all of them horny. On their way to piss drunk, too, by the looks of them. They’d cornered a similar group of mostly pretty sorority girls in tiny tops and with lots of shiny teeth.
“Bro.” Damian greeted him solemnly. “Glad you could finally fucking make it out. All work, no play, right?”
“Yeah, right,” Matt said and took one of the bottles of beer from the bucket on the table. “How about I buy the next bucket?”
And that’s how it started. How it ended, though, was something else. Damian had fixed his sites on this sweet little blondie with huge tits and not a lot going on between the ears. Matt had found himself a reluctant wingman, left to entertain the hottie’s plain Jane pal.
At least she didn’t seem interested in him. They shared a couple of beers from another of the buckets and watched some lame reality show while Damian set to making out with the still-nameless chick. They were both drunk, and normally Matt wouldn’t have thought anything of it, except that it seemed pretty lame to just stick your tongue down someone else’s throat within twenty minutes of meeting them.
Then again, what had he just signed up to do?
He thought about making conversation with the woman beside him at the bar, but she might think he was trying to hit on her, which he wasn’t, so he just drank beer and ate some nachos and watched his friend feel up a stranger.
“Ten bucks says they go home together,” the woman beside him said, watching her friend rub her crotch against Damian’s. “And that’s a sucker bet.”
He grinned at her, but she was already shaking her head and putting some money on the bar. She gave him a slight smile as she passed by him, but that was it. He watched her say something to her friend, who pretty much ignored her, and then she left the bar.
Matt finished his beer and left, too. He didn’t want to be out too late. He didn’t want to be tired for his first session.
For the experiment.
Chapter Five
Melissa had gone over the list over and over again, folding and refolding the paper so many times it was now creased and faded in spots from the heat and sweat of her palms. Not a great thing, sweaty hands, particularly since the first instructions on the list were “hand holding.”
How bad could this be? She thought as she checked herself in the bathroom mirror one more time before she headed out into the lab for the first meeting of her…well, whatever he was going to be. Partner. Future lover? She shuddered, not entirely in revulsion, at the thought.
There weren’t going to be any introductions from Randy or Ada. Once Melissa and the unknown guy were in the room together, the experiment was considered officially begun. There wasn’t supposed to be any additional information given to either one of them, and they weren’t supposed to meet up outside of the lab, either. If they did bump into each other, they weren’t supposed to acknowledge each other. She couldn’t imagine anything more awkward than pretending not to know somebody she’d potentially been playing tonsil hockey with the night before.
On second thought, maybe it would be more awkward to try to make small talk.
Melissa was the first one in the room, and glad of it. She had time to check it out and make herself comfortable, scope out the space and sort of claim her territory. In one corner was a large bed with a nice comforter and a few comfy looking pillows. Nothing fancy, but certainly adequate…she shivered a little, though not with chill. Heat tickled her cheeks. Silly, really. It was just a bed.
The soft-looking overstuffed sofa that was the only other furniture in the room along with a thick, plush rug and two small end tables with lamps on them. She didn’t get the purpose of the lamps at first, what with the heavy duty fluorescent lights providing more than ample light from overhead, but then she got it.
Mood lighting.
All at once this was scarier than she’d thought it would be. She smoothed her hair, then the hem of her blouse, the front of her skirt. She’d dressed nicely, but not too nice. Nothing too low cut or short, nothing too clingy.
Shit. This was –
The door opened and a man ducked in. She caught a glimpse of broad shoulders before he looked up at her with eyes she couldn’t have said were green or brown from this distance, only that they were not brilliant blue, the color she’d noted as her favorite. Nor did he have thick dark hair falling rakish over his forehead. Instead, he wore his sandy hair in a short cut that emphasized his face – not an unpleasant face, but certainly nothing she’d have bookmarked on her computer to use as her desktop wallpaper. Not cover model material.