I was waiting outside the office of a financial aid officer at the university. If he couldn’t find me some more financial aid, I would have to drop out of school for at least a year and try to find a full time job. One semester short of graduation – just one semester short. There had to be some more aid available. I had good grades, I received several scholarships, my parents had helped, and I had borrowed as much as I dared – but now, I was at the end. The small work-study grant I received had been shut down due to state budget cuts. “Mr. Kessler will see you now April,” said Miss Schmidt, Kessler’s secretary, as she showed me into his small sterile cubicle. Kessler rose to his feet and reached across his desk to shake my hand, “Hello April, it is good to see you again.” “Good to see you again too, Mr. Kessler,” I quietly said, “I just wish I didn’t have to keep coming back here with my hand out all the time.” “Nonsense April, that is why I am here,” Kessler sincerely spoke. “I wish I had better news for you, that’s all. I have explored every possibility. There is just no money anywhere. The state budget cuts really hurt. I know losing the work-study money is pushing you over the edge.” “There has to be something more out there. With the big medical school here, there has to be other opportunities besides selling my blood. Are there any clinical studies that pay anything to participants?” “April, none that you would qualify for,” Kessler said with sympathy and concern in his voice. “There is one program that kind of flies under the radar over in the medical school. But I have heard some whispers about it. I don’t think this is something you should consider.” “What is it?” I grasped at the straw. “I am not exactly sure to be honest,” the bureaucrat admitted. “I was only told that if I ever had students who really needed money, I should refer them to a doctor Baker over at the medical school…” “Well that fits me!” I said with hope filling my thoughts. “Could you set up an appointment with him for kolej escort me?” “I suppose so April, that probably is your only option,” he said as he opened a screen on his computer and typed in a few things. He printed up a sheet and handed it to me. “Doctor Donald Baker, 3:30 this afternoon at 433 Winter Hall.” I took the paper and thanked him for his help. I shouted back to him as I left, “Hey nothing ventured, nothing gained. Right?” At lunch with my friends, I asked if anyone had heard anything about the med school having any jobs program or grants for students. Nobody had. The consensus of my lunch group was that they probably had a black market operation going on in selling human organs for transplant. Would I sell them my kidney? At this point, the jury was out. At 3:30, I was shown into Dr. Baker’s office. Baker was a man in his early sixties, balding, with a paunch. His rosy jowled face was framed with a grey beard and he wore wire glasses. He had a nice smile. “Please come in Miss Anderson, have a seat. Mr. Kessler has sent over your records and I know your situation. I assume you want to know how we could help you, is that correct?” I liked him. I liked his no-nonsense style. “Can I assume you are not going to offer me money for my organs?” He laughed, sending his jowls and belly into a roll. “No, nothing like that.” “Please explain,” I inquired. “Among the classes I teach here at the medical school, is a class called Human Anatomy. I have a bit of an unorthodox approach that has proved to be very successful. Ninety-six percent of my students have gone on to have very successful careers in medicine – that compares to seventy percent for the rest of the teaching staff. My classes are small, only six students.” He stopped to recover his breath. I urged him to continue. “The big difference is I use live subjects in teaching my students. That is where you would come in Miss Anderson,” he paused and watched for my reaction. “Don’t all doctors use live subjects?” sihhiye escort bayan “Not the way I do Miss Anderson, not this early in medical school, and not as ‘open’ as I use the subjects,” he answered. “I want you to understand completely how this would work before I tell you what the pay would be. Do you want to know more?” “Of course,” I responded and leaned forward to hear more. “Nudity, Miss Anderson, total nudity. I do not believe doctors can learn anything about the body and anatomy without total nudity. It is nonsense these hospital gowns and worrying about modesty. It is all too distracting to a young doctor’s learning experience. Are you shocked? Do you want me to go on?” “Please.” “If you accepted this job, you would be expected to be totally naked at all times. You would be probed, poked, and examined by six young doctors and myself. Every inch, exposed and probed, every inch I say,” he explained. “Shall I continue?” I nodded. “I would need you to be available for a week from 4-7 p.m. on a Monday, Wednesday, and Friday,” he explained. “The setting would be in an exam theater in the medical school, closed to everyone, and under very bright lights. The university will pay you $300 for the week. However, I have had a number of contributions from past students and supporters, that would allow me to pay you an additional $2,000.” I needed time to process all this. Baker sensed this, or he had the experience that showed him I would need time to consider this. “I don’t want a decision from you now Miss Anderson. Please take some time and sleep on it. If you are interested, come back to my office at 3:30 tomorrow afternoon. If I don’t hear from you I will assume your answer is no,” he rose and shook my hand. “Good bye, Miss Anderson.” As I walked back to my dorm, I ran this all through my mind. I was an Art Major, I had even posed in just a small sheet for a drawing class, but there were strict rules of conduct for those sessions. I was comfortable with Escort sincan nudity, but being probed by seven strangers? I could see why this was a whispered program here at my conservative midwest college. “Well April, you selling a kidney?” my roommate asked. “No, there were a bunch of clinical studies,” I told her, “I didn’t qualify for any of them – it was a dead end.” If I did this, I didn’t see any point in spreading it around. ****** I knocked on Dr. Baker’s office door at 3:30 p.m. “I have a couple of questions Dr. Baker.” “Of course my dear, please come in and close the door. Have a seat.” “This is purely clinical… correct? Nothing sexual,” I wanted this clear. “My dear, we will examine your genitals and breasts. These are young potential doctors and undoubtedly will have sexual thoughts. You are a beautiful young woman,” he explained. “I will promise you however, that there will be no intercourse. I am being as honest and upfront as I can be. If this is something you are not comfortable with, this is something you should not do.” I thought about this for a couple of minutes. “I am ready to try this Doctor Baker,” I decided. “April, I need to be sure. I need to know that you can be comfortable with this. I can’t have you not show up and waste our valuable time.” “I understand Doctor.” “As a preview and a test, I want you to take off your clothes now Miss Anderson.” “Really?” I quietly responded as I looked at his face. I didn’t have to wait for his response. He was serious. I stood up and slipped off my jacket and kicked off my boots as I watched him. I didn’t want to look him in the eyes, so I looked down as I pulled off my sweater and slipped off my jeans. “No!” I thought. I wasn’t going to let him intimidate me, so I looked up and stared him straight in the eyes as I unhooked my bra and placed it on the chair. I slowly hooked my thumbs under the elastic waistband of my bikini briefs and unhurriedly slid them down my hips and legs. I stood my ground and didn’t modestly try to cover myself with my hands, which was my first inclination. He stared at me for a long time and then slowly rose. I looked at his crotch for a telltale bulge. Apparently I wasn’t exciting him, the only protuberance I noticed was his belly. He gently grabbed my breast and used his thumb to tweak my nipple.