He agrees to help with the in-class demonstration

“Excellent, Nathaniel.”

Professor Walford handed him a printed outline which included some of her own handwritten notes.

“Please review. It’s just a draft. I intend to add to it before I distribute to the class. But at least this will give you an overview of the project and your role. If you have any specific questions, I’ll plan to meet with you and the other volunteers shortly before class begins.”

“Thanks, Professor.”

Nate put the outline in his satchel and left Professor Walford’s office. Nate shook his head as he walked down the corridor. He had really dodged a bullet. Perhaps he was too obsessed with perfection for his own good. At any rate, he was certain he’d breeze through whatever material Professor Walford needed him to absorb.

Nate finally retrieved the outline that evening at dinner. He’d brought it and some other study materials to the dining hall to peruse as he ate. Like Professor Walford indicated, the outline was pretty barebones.

He nearly choked as he read the heading:

An Empirical Inquiry into Male Sexuality: Preconceptions vs. Reality

What the fuck??

Class will make predictive observations concerning volunteers. Volunteers will verify or refute.*

* To maintain confidentiality, volunteers will have their identities shielded by a screen.

Class is encouraged to be candid about preconceived notions.

Then, Professor Walford had handwritten... nerd, jock, short/waifish.

That was it.

Shit. He was going to have to answer questions – probably very personal questions – about his most uncomfortable subject. Sex.

And how could Professor Walford possibly keep his identity a secret if he had to answer questions? Perhaps the volunteers would write down their answers and pass them to her? If not, then Nate would have to insist on it. Otherwise his classmates would recognize his voice.

But Nate continued to fret. What if they asked about sexual experience... or even worse, questions of an anatomical nature.

Fortunately, he had a handy set of lines at the ready for such occasions: He’d had sex at least twenty times; he’d received more blowjobs than he could count; he was, if not huge, of above average-proportions below the belt.

Of course, these were all falsehoods, but they were harmless. And these answers ensured that, if anyone gleaned his identity, it would be embarrassing to him, but no real harm would come of it.

Still, as the date of the in-class demonstration approached, Nate felt increasingly apprehensive.