Once more, he looked down at his watch, then over at the barren desktop and the pristine white cabinetry above it. He followed this with yet another glance over the paper-covered examination table, before dropping his eyes back down to where his hands rested in his lap. The tiny room felt lifeless. Sterile. Strikingly opposite of his reason for being there.
In fact, of the parts of the clinic he had been in so far, it appeared that not a single one had been designed with comfort in mind. The bite of the chair he was sitting in was proof of that. Shifting had proven endlessly futile in his search for a position that saved him from the hard plastic digging into his backside.
His own impatience frustrated him. He watched as the second hand on his watch continued to stubbornly match the pace of his bouncing knee, and reminded himself there was no reason to be nervous. The new laws had made this completely safe and legally sound. Still, he couldn't stop the sole of his shoe from tapping a muted, anxious rhythm on the tile floor.
Finally, after nearly twenty minutes of waiting, the door swung open. In swept the long-awaited, white-coated doctor, chased by the sharp scent of antiseptics and a welcomed, cool draft from the hallway. The Doc was surprisingly young; somewhere in his mid-thirties and maybe only a year or two older than his patient. His bright white coat contrasted dramatically against his dark hair in a way his patient's blond locks could never. Despite the closeness in age, however, much deeper lines formed on the Doc's face when he offered a stoic smile as greeting.
First, the Doc rolled the tiny swivel out from under the desk. Instantly all of the air deflated from the tiny black cushion as he settled himself on it. He paused for a moment to check the clipboard in his hands.
"Right, Ryan. Sorry to keep you waiting. Why don't you take a seat on the examination table, and we'll get started."
While it was more comfortable than the hard seat of the chair, Ryan found the examination table even more unsettling. He grimaced each time the thin paper covering crinkled underneath him. If the Doc was put off by the noise, he didn't show it. Instead, he launched into a series of questions, first confirming Ryan's date of birth and then continuing down the list with polished professionalism.
"Any abnormal complaints about your physical or mental health in the last month?"
"No."
"Good. Are you feeling healthy today?"
"Yes."
"Have you ejaculated in the past 48 hours?"
"No."
"Perfect. Alright, we'll do a quick physical examination and then you're all good to go."
The Doc was right when he said it would be quick. One swift rip of Velcro, a few soft probes with latex-covered fingers and the cold nip of a stethoscope later, the Doc was back in his seat and recording his findings in the chart.
"Completely healthy," he mumbled, evidently more to himself than to his patient from the way he didn't even bother to look up as he delivered his diagnosis. Only once he had stopped writing and set the clipboard onto the desk did his brown eyes land once more upon Ryan. This time, they lacked the impartial coldness they had held during his examination.
"You're new here, aren't you?" he asked softly.
Unsure of what to say, Ryan nodded.
For the first time since entering the room, the Doc offered his patient a truly reassuring smile before giving his advice. "She'll be even more nervous than you are. Don't let on that you're a rookie. She'll get even more nervous if you do. She needs to relax for the procedure to have the best chances of success. That's your job, more than anything else. Help her relax."
The procedure. That was the word they used for it. Every aspect of this experience had some strange, clinical jargon name that they claimed helped to maintain professional boundaries. To remind everyone of their reasons for being there. Although he couldn't fault the logic, Ryan still cringed to hear it used.
"Thanks, Doc," he said, wondering if he seemed nervous and that's what prompted the sudden advice.
The Doc nodded, his head bouncing a few times before he reached for his chart and stood up from the stool. "Are you ready?"
"Ready as I'll ever be."
--
Finally, a feeling of comfort. This room was unlike any other in the clinic that Ryan had seen so far. The first thing he saw after walking in the door was the massive headboard against the back wall. Nearly twice the scale of the queen-sized bed in front of it, the matte black colour contrasted sleekly against the dramatic red of the room's walls. The bed was made up in sheets of a similar red, save for the two fluffiest pillows. They stood out boldly in their immaculate white pillowcases.
Before the bed was a low, quilted settee, on top of which sat a variety of intimate toys. A brief glance over them found a well-stocked selection offering everything from vibrators to anal plugs. Any tool imaginable that one might need to pleasure a woman.
Looking at them, Ryan couldn't help but wonder what made him any different from being just another tool in this equation, if anything at all.
After the exam had finished, the Doc had called in an attractive, young woman to guide Ryan deeper into the clinic. She had said little as they walked, simply thanking him for his patience and then urging him to follow her. The steady click of her stilettos against the corridor flooring had done enough to fill the silence the rest of the way.
Now she lingered in the doorway to the room as he neared the centre of it.
"Everything you need should already be in here. If there is anything else, don't hesitate to use the call button on the panel next to the door," she instructed. Her voice was dulcet and her tone uninterested. It did nothing to ease Ryan's building nerves. "Your client will arrive shortly. Please make yourself comfortable."
Following the soft latch of the door as she shut it behind her, Ryan was left alone. For a moment, he hesitated where he stood, his knee twitching, then freezing in place before he lifted his leg without direction. He stood there a second longer before he abruptly paced to the side of the bed and sat down. No, that wouldn't do. He didn't last even two seconds before springing back to his feet and sweeping the room once again for any clue of what he should be doing.
On one of the side walls was an open door to a dark room that he knew from the training would be a bathroom. Chest tight, he made a beeline for it. As soon as he entered, he slammed the lights on then grasped the edge of the vanity with both hands and leaned over the sink.
What had he been thinking getting himself into this?
His gaze trailed over the white porcelain to his reflection in the mirror and where found two narrow green eyes looking back at him.
