“Once, again. From the top. And, this time, tell me about the storyboard.”

Shenar and Frank had been trying out the new couches in the conversation cove from a skin to upholstery perspective.

Frank had noticed early in their relationship how to discover if sex had been “good” for Shenar. It was useless to ask her. It was beyond her to pronounce sex either good or bad. If, though, she entered the world of the dead for a quarter hour after orgasm, then began spouting a series of mind flights, Frank knew that Shenar was satisfied. He had just watched her breathing drop to undetectable levels, then tolled the minutes until her chest would began to rising and falling.

Now, she was gurgling up some ideas she said she’d “gotten” for what she was calling a “sequence”. They were advanced enough so that Frank could tell that her explorations had coalesced into solid form.

Shenar wasn’t looking at him, she was draped back across some pillows, staring up, as though she was reading notes off the ceiling. Frank had gotten what she was talking about, all right. He just wasn’t sure where, or whether, it would fit in. None of the crew had thought that Shenar and her team were going to come up with anything promising. Bob had begun to grumble about “money falling through the cracks into the hands of the crackpots”. Frank had been considering pulling Shenar’s group back in with the rest and seeing if something of whatever it was they were doing could be salvaged for use with Bob’s development. Until this afternoon, that is. Now, while he analyzed her recitation on one track, he reviewed the entire project on another, and contemplated Shenar’s body on the undertrack.

Sumitomo had been inspired by venture capital they had sunk into Aviva, a popular tele-psychologist who specialized in marital sex counseling. She had produced and starred in a season-long series for PBS on do-it-yourself counseling. The series was so popular that Sumitomo was considering a wider application. They had talked Aviva into producing a computerized marriage/sex counseling kit for distribution, either through the purchase of software or through Internet download, with “live” counseling possibilities. Sumitomo was hoping to not only profit from the sale of software, but from monitoring the counseling time-for-purchase, if a software purchaser was interested in person-to-person professional guidance.

Shenar had done a great deal of research into sexual counseling, both in and out of marriage, and what the Internet currently offered sexually. All she had found were sexual toys. Her exposure to and interest in pornography had led her to believe that pornography produced by the participants for use during sex might have definite therapeutic effects not only for the frequency and excitement of a couple’s sex life, but repercussions regarding any person’s sexual life. Pornography, she had pointed out during the initial phase discussions, is so widely used, throughout history and society, that it is astonishing that it has rarely been used officially for sexual therapy, since it is often used unofficially in this capacity.

Suppose, Shenar postulated, a person thought about what their internal pornographic images were when they were sexually aroused, and translated them with fairly simple tools that would allow that person to create their own pornography, using their own image and the image of real lovers. The idea had been surprising enough to raise the level of excitement and energy at the original development conference, and scandalous enough to provoke vigorous disagreement about whether the product should even veer in this direction. Several of the crew couldn’t see the difference between this and turning a video cam on oneself and “fucking for the world”, or even for yourself. A few others figured the product would actually be purchased by just about anyone who wanted a relatively cheap way to produce pornography, and it’s sales demographic would quickly kill any reputation it might gain as a “serious”, therapeutic product.

Frank had been equally surprised when Shenar took polite note of the conflict, then indicated she didn’t think anyone could actually visualize what she was talking about, so she would begin development on her own, and anyone who was willing to join her was welcome...within weeks, she and her cohorts had woven a clever combination of software into one product which, from an amalgamation of typed and mouse-directed commands, allowed the user to create their own images, enliven them, bring them into dimension and put those images through physical paces, by themselves and with other images. At the last conference Shenar had announced that the only remaining task was the production of some test pornography with the program.

“I’ve got more than the storyboard.” She had leafed through her “erotic data” and had created pornography using an image of herself, an image of one of her partners (“so I’ll know, for sure, whether it is possible to get a realistic image of someone from all these gadgets”), and the detailed descriptions of what they did.

“Frank, I even used voice over to do justice to the sequence as a story being told by one of the participants! You should see the tape! I guarantee you, it’s liberating!”

Frank had stumbled upon Shenar’s erotic journals one day and read. He was aware of the possibility inherent in Shenar producing one of these written memoirs on film. “Who did you use? What episode did you use?”

Shenar was grinning. “Wait ’till you see this, Frank!” Shenar stepped across the room, angled the computer monitor toward Frank, picked up a clear plastic case, took out a CD and slipped it into the ROM slot.

“I’m hoping, after a few of these are viewed, others will experiment with the program so we can get some statistics going on how easy it is to use, what some of it’s psychological effects are speculated to be...”

A quick succession of suggestive images sparkled across the monitor. The screen went dark, then a couple appeared, in the midst of disrobing. Frank was too far away to see what they were doing. He lifted himself off the couch, pulled and knotted a blanket around his waist and moved in closer. He studied the two forms carefully.

“That’s you!” Frank roared and turned on Shenar. “That’s you, several years younger, and me, as that lech of a teacher you had!”

Shenar looked startled. “Well, yes,” her voice lowered an octave and slowed just above hesitation. She looked away from Frank and secured the screen with a few deft keyings. “Who did you expect me to use?”

Frank bent low over Shenar, controlling his anger with clenched fists. “I recognize the episode,” he sneered the word as though he were expelling putrid grease. “This comes dangerously close to child porn. Who’s seen this?” he demanded.

“No one, Frank, no one. I didn’t intend for anyone...”

As the CD auto-ejected, Frank snatched it from the ROM slot and shook it in Shenar’s face. Her hands fluttered up and hovered around the disk as he waved it in front of her. “It’s the only one I’ve got...” she pleaded.

“If no one is supposed to see it, what was the point in making it!” Frank shook the disk violently one last time, dropped it on the table, then turned abruptly and stalked back to the couch.

Shenar remained stationed in front of the computer. Her hands were folded in front of her, covering her mons. Frank glanced at her then dropped his head over his lap. Shenar looked stunned. Vulnerable. She probably hadn’t intended to show the demo to anyone, but the computer industry doesn’t lend itself to secrets and security. The mere fact of the disk’s existence creates a security issue.

Frank began to grin. He glanced again, from the side, at Shenar, still standing, naked and modest, in front of the computer monitor, still surprised and not quite contrite. His first cogent thought about her, he remembered, had been about her underwear. Panties. Did she or didn’t she? He began to laugh, swung his head up to meet Shenar’s gaze, and stood.

Shenar was smiling broadly, now, but hadn’t moved. Frank dropped the blanket, stepped over the coffee table and walked to her.

Now, she was laughing. She was pliant, but rooted. He had to come to her. Frank reached for her, pulled her arms toward him and around his back, nestled her body into his. Their laughter continued, low and intimate, just for their bellies.

“I was afraid you might use something you’d written about you and me. Then, I discover you’ve written me into another of your experiences.” He paused to lingualize his fears, “I thought, when I saw that sequence that maybe you preferred your memory of him to the reality of me.”

“The whole idea is to confront one’s fantasies with one’s partner. No better way than for me to use us.”

“Why did you use that episode?”

Shenar was comfortably resting against his torso, her head against his chest. “Because that episode in my life had a critical impact on me. I think it’s a fantasy most people have. Being taught sex by someone older, more experienced, someone who understands the need to learn, doesn’t take advantage of it, but assents to being the teacher. In reality, though, it’s hard for most people to accept the prurience of the teacher, as well as the value. Although that actually happened to me, the truth is, life rarely works out that way. Somehow, the lesson never gets past the prurience, or, maybe, never embraces the prurience. That doesn’t erase the fantasy, though. I’m sure lots of people wish this had happened to them.”

Frank stiffened. “Do you still fantasize about that?”

Frank felt Shenar’s embrace tighten, then loosen. “No, but I don’t have to. It happened to me. The point is, if it hasn’t happened to someone and they wish it had, with these tools they have a way of pursuing it, with their partner. It would be a lie to deny it as a fantasy. That’s what really kills the erotic feelings between two people. The lies. The lies in images. That’s why I used my partner.” Her voice was very low. Frank heard every word.

“How did you get the video images so accurate?”

“I took some movies of us.”

“You mean, that was really me, on the screen?”

“Yeah, that was really you, with some age enhancement. I figured scanning was the easiest and most inexpensive way to create an identifiable image.”

“You didn’t tell me you were filming us.” Frank continued to hang on to Shenar, but he felt his dick shrink.

The tension of Shenar’s embrace never wavered. “You wouldn’t have allowed it.”

“You don’t know me that well.”

“Yes I do.”

Frank wasn’t sure how long they were silent. Shenar’s body was moving over and around him, trying to break through his hastily built defense, so it seemed to him as though the conversation was still going on.

“Will you watch the rest of the sequence?” Shenar’s voice was still low, measured. Her touch was still dense. “Consider it looking in a mirror.”

“Then, we destroy it, and you do a film with fictional characters.”

“Okay.”

Shenar separated from Frank and pulled him away from the computer. There was a film of sweat evaporating across the front of his torso where Shenar had just been. He smeared it over himself, then grabbed her retreating figure and smeared himself over her back, sliding his hands down her belly and between her thighs.

“How explicit does this little film get?” Frank’s finger found Shenar’s clitoris and massaged it lightly.

Shenar gasped, arched her back into Frank’s groin and grabbed his hand. “Let’s just say, I think you’ll recognize the sequence, in detail.”

Frank had to be careful in his reaction to this. There were considerations. First, Shenar really cared about what she was doing. Second, she insisted on working primarily within her own ethical universe, then, within the company’s. Third, the idea was brilliant. It automatically created a variety of markets, nationally and globally, and, if tapped first commercially, could blossom into the way to do sex counseling in the future, at several levels. It also had an enticing but controversial entertainment value. Frank was impressed. And scared. “If we do this, it might look like we’re condoning the creation of pornography.”

“It is pornography, Frank. It’s the way we all think about our sex lives, everyday. I’ve already gotten input from Aviva about this, that this is part of the problem with marriage counseling. There are only certain effective ways that one can really come to grips with one’s sexuality, and they’re all concrete, graphic. Yes, the abundance of pornography is an insult to women. But, it’s an insult to men, too, because people automatically grab what’s available rather than checking to see what is going through their own minds. Yes, this product is pornography, used in what could very possibly be the best way. I mean, it goes beyond marriage counseling.”

Before she could go on, Frank reached up and grabbed her quotation marks out of the air, pulling them down into an iron grip. He stared at her, pleading for time, as he worried her hands in his. Satisfying the contract in this manner would probably not only create a sub-industry, it might umbrella into several cottage industries. Entire economies would be affected. A base could, potentially, be set up anywhere. It could be done in a variety of languages throughout a web of countries without having to translate it, since it was an idea, not a script. Whether Sumitomo wanted to get involved in a movement, not just the production and small time distribution of what would probably, in at least one incarnation, be labeled educational material, was another matter. The idea certainly fit the stereotype of their business development division, to whom AniMate was contracted. This could get tricky, though. He could see certain problems with the pure idea, not the least of which was the naturally conservative bent of business; discounting the Playboy, Penthouse and Hustler empires, that is. Marital aids are usually back page material. This could end up being front page stuff.

Shenar had told him once she had no inhibitions. Then, she had described inhibition in a way he’d never heard. “I do everything I want to do. An inhibition is when you want to do something, but you don’t. There are lots of things I don’t want to do; I don’t want pain, I don’t want bondage, I don’t want humiliation, I don’t want to be anyone else but me, I don’t want to pretend, I don’t want to hurt anyone else, if I can avoid it. Those are preferences, not inhibitions,” she had said.

“Do me a favor,” he said, before he threw her against the couch and fucked her fiercely. “Do another sequence, and don’t use me. Doing this.”

Text & Graphics © 1999 by Gail Rae Hudson

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