I’ve previously written about my college’s psychology department, and its creative, interactive approach to teaching. Nowhere was it more creative – or interactive-- than in the Human Sexuality program. What I haven’t mentioned before, until now, was the clinic.
We first learned of it when our professor addressed the Human Sexuality 101 class.
“You’ve all done very well in confronting your own sexuality, and becoming comfortable with displaying your bodies in healthy and appropriate settings. You’re now ready for the next step.”
Hard to imagine what more could be coming. We’d been naked with each other and discussed sexual experiences openly – and once created those experiences.
“We have a clinic, a workshop, on the campus, where people can come to seek resolution of sexual issues. Are you unsure if your oral sex techniques are generating the most pleasure for your partner? Women, do you wonder if there is a difference in how you handle a circumcised penis versus one that is uncut? Men, do you wonder what parts of a woman’s body are the most sensitive? Whatever the concern, counsellors made up of graduate students will fully instruct you.”
I spoke up. ‘Professor, I’m unclear. What do you mean by instruction? Like, a class on sex techniques?”
“Carl, an instructor might critique your technique and make suggestions on how to improve. But we never discuss the details of what takes place; everything within the clinic is confidential.”
We were agog. We were trying to imagine what might take place. Film clips? Written instructions? Or would we literally “practice” the new techniques? If so, practice on whom? Was he suggesting that we would engage in sex acts there?
“I know this may sound radical, but the clinic is a natural outgrowth of the work we’ve done here in class. It’s very hard to experiment when you have a romantic partner. The emotions and the needs of your partner normally don’t allow for that. And it can be embarrassing to display or confess your inexperience. A romantic encounter is not a tutorial. At the clinic, instruction and exploration is its whole raison d’etre.”
The discussion went on, but the point was that there might be a facility on campus where we could go to explore sex – in the name of academic knowledge, of course.
After class, the clinic was all we could talk about. We broke into our study groups, the groups having been selected at the start of the semester. Each group was composed of two guys and two girls.
“Would you have the nerve to go to the clinic?” asked Dawn.
“No way; I think I’d die being instructed in sexual techniques,” replied Jennifer. “Unless the guy was really cute,” she added with a laugh.
“I’m sort of intrigued,” said Brad. “I really want to please my partners. Yet even when I ask, ‘what else shall I do,’ women will always block the question. ‘You’re doing great,” she’ll say. I think my girlfriends are embarrassed to state how they should be pleasured.”
“There is truth to that,” said Jennifer. “I’ve never told a lover exactly what to do – even when he’s fumbling around. I guess I don’t want to risk wounding the male ego by suggesting he isn’t a great lover.”
“And for sure it’s a guy thing to want to go somewhere if there is a chance for free sex,” said Dawn, as we all laughed.
The mystery of the clinic was a lure that we couldn’t put aside.
“We should all go together,” I suggested. “We’ll make it a class project. Sort of like a field trip.”
“Sure, we can pack a lunch, bring some party favors, make a day of it,” said Jennifer. She wasn’t serious of course; it was just a way of making light of something that enticed us – and frightened us at the same time. We broke for the day without reaching a decision. Just food for thought. And food we chewed on all night.
The next morning, Dawn sent a text, addressed to the three of us.
“We’ll regret it our whole lives if we don’t try this. When would we ever again get an offer like this?” it read.
All of us independently came to the same conclusion. Go there at least once, see what it was about. After all, we had taken the Human Sexuality class for a reason. We couldn’t chicken out on this unique exploration of sexuality.
But how to do it? What would we ask? Go into each session as a group, or individually? Would we be instructed together? We’d already seen each other naked, but this could be humiliating. Did we have the self-confidence?
We decided to go in as couples. Dawn and me first; then Brad and Jennifer. Dawn would say she was having trouble reaching orgasm, and ask for help. Brad and Jennifer would say that they weren’t comfortable with oral sex, and hoped to overcome that.
The next day, Dawn and I approached the intake person at the clinic.
“Hi, we’re part of the Human Sexuality class. We’d like to speak with a counsellor about an issue we’re having.”
“Of course,” the lady replied. “First, I need you to sign some paperwork,”
There followed a raft of papers that confirmed the terms of the clinic – complete confidentiality, but also a commitment to in good faith try their solutions. We signed.
“What seems to be the issue?” the intake clinician asked.
Dawn spoke. “I am not being satisfied during love making. I rarely reach an orgasm.”
“I see. This is a common complaint with the women we see. I know we’ll be able to help you. Is this your sexual partner?” She was referring to me.
I nodded yes, feeling a little humiliated at being labeled an inadequate lover.
“You’ll be interviewed by Carlos, one of our counsellors. Right this way, please,” as we were escorted into a room. It had a medical examination table, covered with clean white paper. But it also had a large bed, with just the bottom sheet on it. No covers.
Carlos came to meet us. He asked us multiple questions, eliciting information on the type of sexual activity we engaged in, how often, for how long, exactly what was the sequence of love making. It was quite intrusive. And all of it was made up. While Dawn and I had had sex once, at the culmination of one of the professor’s more interesting exercises, we were not lovers. And for sure I was not an inadequate lover. This was just an exercise to scope out what the clinic was all about.
But the exercise turned out to be more than we bargained for.
Carlos spoke. “Okay Dawn, our first step will be a physical exam, to see if there is any physiological reason for your not having orgasms. Please remove your clothes and lie on the examination table."
Dawn froze. “Is that necessary?” she asked tentatively.
“Yes, this is standard. Are you concerned? Do you want your partner to wait outside while we do the exam?” he asked.
Dawn looked at me. To answer yes would seem strange – we were supposedly lovers, here for help. We were used to being naked together, supposedly. I smiled at her and said, “Won’t be anything I don’t see all the time.”
She glared at me, recognizing the lie, but also recognizing that it was an appropriate role-playing lie. She felt trapped.
“No, it’s fine if he stays. But I think he should be naked too,” she said. “To add to the authenticity of what we’re doing.”
Damn her. But that was only fair. And I really would enjoy observing her naked body.
“Okay by me,” I said.
We both removed our clothes. Dawn has a petite body, small breasts although well formed, with broad areola and prominent nipples. She has abundant, curly brown pubic hair and a firm athlete’s body. I hungrily watched her climb onto her back on the table.
Carlos applied some electrodes to her neck, to her breasts, and her middle. Pressure cuffs went around her arm and chest, checking pulse and respiration. He took some medical devices and did a quick review of her sex organs, looking for any abnormalities. Then he took an electric vibrator, and placed it on her chest.