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4. How often do you masturbate? Preferred method?
5. Have you ever had a one-night stand?
6. Do you tend to make the first move when you are attracted to someone?
7. Have you had sex with a woman, or with more than one partner at the same time? Explain.
8. Have you had anal sex? Did you enjoy it? If not, why not?
9. What type of birth control do you use?
10. What do you consider your personal erogenous zones?
11. What are your thoughts on pornography?
And on and on and on. Do you enjoy sex on your period? Dirty talk? S&M? Bondage? Lights on or off? … This was what I had been most afraid of: feeling over my head. It was like those awful dreams of surprise quizzes that I was plagued by after I left university. I had had exactly one sex partner. I had no idea about penis preference, and anal sex was an exotic, remote idea, up there with tattooing my face and shoplifting. But I had to answer honestly. What’s the worst thing that could happen? That they would discover my complete sexual ineptitude and usher me to the door? Thinking about that made the rest of the exercise seem ludicrously fun. After all, what did I have to lose? After all, wasn’t I here because of my sexual inexperience?
I started with the simplest question, the first one, which was easy enough—One. I have had one lover. Scott. One. And only one. As for my physical type, I thought of all the movie stars and musicians that I found attractive and surprised myself by filling the entire space with names and ideals. Then I moved on to the next question: vaginal orgasms? I skipped it. I had no idea. The one about erogenous zones almost had me scanning the bookshelf for a dictionary. I couldn’t answer that. Nor the next one, nor the one about being with women. I answered the rest as best I could. Finally I turned to the last page in the booklet, where there was a blank space for me to add any other thoughts.
I am trying hard to answer these questions, but I have only had sex with my husband. We mostly did it missionary style. Maybe two times a week when we first got married. After that, maybe once a month. The light was often off. Sometimes I had an orgasm … I think. I’m not sure; maybe I was faking. Scott never went down on me. I have … touched myself now and again. It’s been a long time since I’ve done that, though. Scott always wanted me to put him in my mouth. I did it, for a while, but I couldn’t do that again after he hit me. I couldn’t do anything with him after he hit me. He died almost four years ago. It has been longer than that since I last had sex. I am sorry, but I can’t finish this test, even though I’m trying my best.
I put down my pen and closed the booklet. Even writing what I had made me feel a little unburdened.
I didn’t hear Matilda slip back into the room.
“How did you do?” she asked as she returned to her desk and sat down.
“Not very well, I’m afraid.”
She picked up the booklet. I had the strongest urge to rip it from her hands and hold it to my chest.
“You know, it’s not the kind of test you can fail,” she said, a sad smile crossing her face as she quickly scanned my answers. “All right, then. Cassie, come with me. Time to meet the Committee.”
I felt welded to my big comfortable chair. I knew that if I crossed the threshold of this room, another chapter of my life would unfold. Was I ready?
Strangely, I was. With each gesture, it felt more doable. Maybe that’s what the ten steps would feel like. I kept reminding myself that nothing bad was happening to me. Quite the opposite. I felt like layers of ice were falling away.
We left the room together and crossed the reception area, where Danica hit another button beneath her desk. The giant white doors at the end parted to reveal a large oval table made of glass, around which about a dozen women sat chatting loudly. The room was windowless, and also white, with a few colorful paintings similar to the ones in the lobby. There was a portrait at the far end, above a wide mahogany console, of a beautiful dark-skinned woman with a long braid falling forward over her shoulder. We entered the room and the women fell silent.
“Everybody, this is Cassie Robichaud.”
“Hi, Cassie,” they sang.
“Cassie, this is the Committee.”
I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out.
“Sit here next to me, my dear,” said a small Indian woman, easily in her sixties, wearing a vivid sari and a very kind smile. She pulled out a chair and patted it.
“Thank you,” I said, and sank into the seat. I wanted to look everyone in the face, and at the same time to look at no one. I alternated between clasping my hands tightly in my lap and firmly sitting on them, trying hard to keep myself from fidgeting like a teenage girl. You are thirty-five, Cassie, grow up.
As Matilda introduced each woman, her voice sounded far away and underwater. My eyes floated from face to face, lingering, as I tried to memorize their names. I noted how each was a different kind of beautiful.
There was Bernice, a red-headed black woman, round, short and busty. She was young. Maybe thirty. There were a couple of blondes, one tall named Daphne, with straight long hair, and the other named Jules, with short perky curls. There was a curvy brunette woman named Michelle, with an angelic face, who clasped her hands over her mouth like I had done something adorable at a dance recital. She leaned over and whispered to a woman sitting across from me named Brenda, who had a toned, athletic body and was dressed in gym clothes. Roslyn with the long auburn hair was next to her. She had the biggest brown eyes I’d ever seen. There were also two Hispanic women sitting side by side, identical twins. Maria had a look in her eyes that was determined; Marta seemed more serene and open. It was then that I noticed each of the women at the table wore a familiar gold charm bracelet.
“And finally, next to you is Amani Lakshmi, who has been on the Committee the longest. In fact, she was my guide, as I will be yours,” said Matilda.
“So very nice to meet you, Cassie,” she said with a slight accent, lifting her slender arm to shake my hand. I saw that she was the only one in the room wearing two bracelets, one on each wrist. “Before we start, do you have any questions?”
