Sight Unseen

I read question seven twice. "Where are the model's hands placed, or positioned? A. In the air. B. At her sides. C. On her hips. D. Over her crotch." I felt a tiny flicker of panic. I couldn't remember where her hands were. I hadn't been studying her freaking hands. I closed my eyes, recalling the image of the beautiful blonde. She was seated. Wasn't she? Or crouching? Could she have been kneeling? By remembering her attitude, or pose, I thought I might also recall the position of her hands, but it was all a blur. Most distinctly, I remembered her magnificent breasts. I'm a tit man, okay? The rest--face and cunt and ass and legs--are sweet, too, but there's nothing finer about a woman than her boobs. I guess I was studying the model's tits more than any other of her charms. I certainly hadn't been focusing on her hands and feet. Feet are Tom O'Malley's fetish. I decided to choose "D," because hands "over her crotch" seemed the sexiest alternative.

The questions, it seems, were becoming a bit more challenging, but, as long as Professor Emile continued to restrict himself to the naked woman and didn't start asking about background and peripheral objects in the photograph, I was confident I'd score at least an 80 percent on his quiz.

"Which part of the model is not shown in the photograph?" question eight asked, allowing these four choices: "A. Back. B. Buttocks. C. Feet. D. All of the above." Easy! I thought, circling "D."

Question nine was also a giveaway: "Which item of jewelry does the model wear? A. Necklace. B. Bracelet. C. Ring. D. All of the above." Again, I chose "D" and thought, Hell, I may get my 80 percent after all.

Finally, I'd reached the last question on the quiz: "Which answer best describes the model's penis? A. Fully erect. B. Fully flaccid. C. Semi-erect. D. Non-existent (women don't have male genitals)."

Penis?

Had I read the fucking question right? I reread it. Twice. Sure enough, the word was there. I snickered. What the hell was this, a trick question? I wondered. If so, Professor Emile sure as hell wasn't going to trick me with it. Confidently, I circled "D," imagining its parenthetical extension to read "chicks don't have dicks" rather than "women don't have male genitals."