Destined to Play. Indigo Bloome
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calibre of people engaging in the impassioned discussion, the comments fly around the table almost too fast for me to assimilate.
‘Even the source of the female orgasm is still to be scientifically determined, unlike the male orgasm which has been extensively funded, researched scientifically and agreed medically.’
‘Basically, medical science continually refuses to acknowledge the physical reality of the female ejaculation and unfortunately it is not a priority. Lack of funding has impacted the ability to provide coherent education on the study of women’s sexual behaviours. We are hoping to change that.’
‘Even today, there is a notable disconnect between medicine and science in relation to the female orgasm, to the extent that the primary understanding of female ejaculation is still urinary stress incontinence.’
‘Did you realise that no one has been able to medically agree on the source of the orgasm, whether it be uterine, clitoral, vaginal, vulval or a blend of any of these combinations? Even though this concept of the female orgasm has been recorded in literature throughout history?’
‘The main problem being a distinct lack of participants able to generate orgasmic fluid in a clinical environment.’
‘Nobody can agree on the most effective way to generate the female orgasm which in effect makes sourcing it extremely difficult.’
‘The physical, emotional, hormonal and environmental states of the female all seem to play a significant role, but at this stage it is impossible to determine whether one plays a greater or lesser role than the other. The hypotheses are many and varied so we are now conducting more research on the neurological connections to help develop our theories further.’
My mind at this point envisions rows of women wearing white robes all lined up in hospital beds with legs spread open attempting to generate an orgasm to be captured in a test tube. I quickly shake my head to dislodge the disturbing image penetrating my brain. I notice I have barely touched my lunch; I’m so caught up in the flow of the discussion.
Samuel eventually concludes: ‘As you can see, my dear Alexandra, there is much more to understand and discover regarding the intricacies of the female orgasm, including the impact of intellectual and emotional components. The research is still highly subjective, personal and seemingly dependent on each woman’s individual experience of orgasm. We can only aspire to develop a more consistent approach regarding our research and conclusions.’
I can’t help but be enthralled with the history and mystery that seemingly surrounds this subject. I had no idea the topic was still so contested medically and in some areas considered career and research ‘taboo’, for want of a better word. How it is possible that the female orgasm is so under-researched, when the male orgasm is considered scientifically and psychologically a fait accompli is frankly shocking to me, to say the least. I can’t quite believe what I’m hearing, and indeed wouldn’t have had it not come from the mouths of the people seated around the table. I manage to quickly swallow a few mouthfuls of food before Samuel and his crew wish me luck as we pack up and make our way toward the lecture theatre.
‘Would you care to join us for a Friday night drink, for old times’ sake? I’m sure the team would love to share some of the insights of their research so far.’ Samuel has a twinkle in his eye as I feel my cheeks flush a pale pink.
‘You know I’d love to, but unfortunately I have other plans for after the lecture.’
‘Of course you have, my dear, one can only ask.’
For some reason, a nervous laugh escapes me, as if I’ve been caught off-guard.
‘I’m actually meeting an old friend from my undergrad days; you may remember him. Jeremy Quinn?’ I try very hard to keep my tone neutral — difficult when the mere mention of his name makes my heartbeat quicken.
‘Yes, indeed I do. Dr Quinn is taking the medical world by storm I hear, causing all sorts of waves and excitement in the US in connection to his research on depression. He’s working with Professor Applegate, is he not?’
I should have known Samuel would be more up to speed than I was in relation to what’s hot in global academia.
‘I believe so, albeit from an article, not from him personally.’
‘Send him my best regards. A very talented man, that Dr Quinn. No doubt there will be many a pharmaceutical company keen for his research. He certainly won’t have any of the funding concerns that constrain us, lucky chap.’
I’m not sure I fully comprehend this connection as my mind automatically shifts into gear for the lecture just moments away.
‘Will do and thanks for everything, Samuel. It’s been wonderful catching up with you again. I wish you and your team the very best. Let me know if I can be of any assistance.’
Suddenly, given the discussion at lunch, I wasn’t one hundred per cent sure whether that was an appropriate comment or not!
‘Indeed my dear. Go forth and conquer.’ We hug farewell and I head to the lectern for my imminent presentation.
***
What a beautiful Friday afternoon in Sydney, everyone basking in glorious sunshine. This city can really turn it on when it needs to. The harbour is sparkling with yachts and ferries merrily bouncing along, the colours are sharp and bold and the city is bustling. Office workers are gearing up for the weekend with such a vibrant beginning, as they head off to drinks along the harbour foreshore. I see some ‘beautiful people’ bouncing along for cocktails, laughing and smiling with a buoyant swing in their step. They look like they have just stepped out of Vogue magazine. I remember when I was one of those girls, focusing on career but as carefree as the wind, with the luxury of time and whispers of what the future might hold caressing every interaction. The main priority occupying our minds then was wondering how the weekend would unfold from twilight onwards and which cocktail to choose first.
It was on one of those nights that my relationship with Jeremy transformed from best friends constantly mucking around with each other to a high-octane sexual one. As the taxi drives past the key visual triggers where it all started in the city, I can’t help but remember the carnal lust and intensity we shared; the impact of such memories makes me squirm in my seat.
Back then, I had just started vacation work with one of the big four banks in the city. The job wasn’t that exciting but the people were fun and it provided me with some much-needed cash during the summer holidays. It was great to be free from study for a few months and I was secretly thrilled to be wearing a suit and high heels, and mum had bought me a sensational new handbag, which I still have today …
‘Hi, Jeremy, I’m just going out to my first official corporate work function—’
‘Yeah, I’m excited. I’ll be at the Wentworth and will be meeting the girls at nine-ish for a drink and a boogie.’
‘Sure, grab them and come along. We’ll meet you there.’
‘No worries. Cool. See you later then.’
I hang up the phone.
He seems really keen to catch up with us all. Hmm, think secretly, I wonder if he likes Eloise, most guys do … maybe I should mention something … The girls think she is going through a phase of exploring the other side, i.e. chicks, but we haven’t been able to confirm or deny the rumour … I’m sure she’ll tell us either way when she is ready. No, I confirm to myself, keep out of it, what will be, will be …
These corporate functions are cool because you get free food and drinks. We stay for a while, then decide it is time for our real Friday night to begin. We pack up and head to the club, where it’s straight to the ladies room to discard jackets, our pantyhose, undo a few buttons, plump up our cleavage, puff our hair, reapply mascara, eyeliner and lipstick. We reappear audacious and revamped, ready to embrace the evening.
The music