My lower back issue was nearly non-existent within two days of my visit to Dr. Horn's office, as he'd predicted. But even though the pain that once constantly nagged me was gone, I nonetheless contemplated endlessly whether I should go back for a return appointment. I felt so foolish.
For one thing, I was a little embarrassed at letting someone I'd only just met service me in a public place. That was exacerbated by the fact that he then rejected me when I came onto him. He was polite about it, but it made me feel so juvenile.
Despite being stung a bit, the simple fact was I still couldn't stop thinking about him. He was mature and strong with a belly round like I like it. He had grey hair, and a clean shaven face that let you admire his chin, his dimples and his chubby cheeks. He looked like the classic sports-loving, barbecuing dad that you would see at a ball game or at his own kids' games. Just the kind of man I stare at and usually the type of man you would be willing to bet was married with grown kids. Which is what made it surprising when he came onto me and what now made it more impossible for me to stop thinking about him.
After dreaming about him and daydreaming about him non-stop, I decided on a plan of action. I would schedule a follow-up appointment, unnecessary as it was, and find a way to make a move.
Exactly one week after my first appointment, I found myself back at Dr. Horn's office sitting in the waiting room across from his young, blonde secretary. She told me he was just finishing up with another patient and would be out any minute.
I sat nervously, my foot tapping incessantly on the floor, and noticed that I was already starting to chub up a bit. I didn't know what would happen but I reviewed the plan in my head. I pulled out the object of my plan - a simple business card - and turned it in my hands. On the back, I had scribbled "If you ever find the time.." and added my cell phone number. It wasn't much, but my feeling was that he was inhibited by something last week, whether it be the setting or maybe a genuine time restraint. If I was right, all we needed was a little coordination to find some alone time. And if I was wrong, I'd just have to find a new chiropractor. Or not mess up my back.
I tucked the card back in my pocket as I heard Dr. Horn and his patient rounding the corner. The secretary helped the patient check out as the three of them made small talk for a moment before the patient went on her way. Dr. Horn smiled mischievously at me in a way that scratched at that itch in my mind.
He greeted me and beckoned me to follow him again. The secretary gave a warm smile as I passed and I hoped she'd once again leave for the day. I had a feeling that she wouldn't though because unlike last time, my appointment was not after hours.
Dr. Horn didn't take me to the massage room first this time, but instead led me to the room with the chiropractic table - the same room where we had our incident last week. He asked how my back was doing and I told him it was good.
"The pain is mostly gone, but I just wanted to do a check up because I'm new to all of this."
It felt like the weakest excuse.
He smiled knowingly, "I'm glad it's feeling better. Do you still feel it when you get out of bed?"
I shook my head no.
"Let's just take a quick look. Why don't you lie down on the table for me."
He checked the notes on his clipboard and I propped myself on the table with my back up. I felt his hands lift my shirt a bit to look at my lower back. His hands barely touched me and a sensation tingled up my spine. As he felt the muscle that had been giving me issues, it was even more clear that the pain was gone. He pressed in a little harder and my body started to respond to his touch. I longed for him to keep going, but it was short lived. There was, after all, nothing to take care of this time.
I felt him lower my shirt back down as he confirmed what we both already knew.
"It looks great at this point. And if you're not feeling any pain, I really don't think you have anything to worry about. Like I said last week, I would try and stretch more often and not just your back. Gone are the days of exercising without stretching for folks like us!"
He chuckled and helped me up off the table. I wasn't rock hard or anything, but I definitely had some activity showing in my pants. I looked at his groin and noticed he too was full. But, in his case it looked like his pants may just always look that way. I was desperate to find out what was beneath. I looked in his eyes and he smiled again. I wanted to show my intentions, glancing back and forth obviously from the pouch in his pants to his eyes. He maintained that same look he gave when he first saw me: this mischievous smirk that indicated he could read my mind.
But then he shrugged, pointing his head towards the secretary's desk and gave this sort of frown. I knew what he was communicating because it was what I anticipated might happen. I grabbed the business card and stared into his eyes, biting my lip a bit, as I moved the card from my pocket to his. I slowly and deliberately rubbed against his thigh before leaving the card for him to read later.
I winked before starting back toward the front desk. He followed behind and he and his secretary both warmly bid me farewell.
When I got home, I became fixated on my phone, jolting for it as soon as I saw it light up with a new notification. I began to curse the notifications that were now frivolous to me as there was only one that I cared about.
I knew I needed to do something to take my mind off it or I'd go crazy. I reminded myself he may wait days before calling or that he may never call at all. But that mischievous smile of his instilled this surety in me that he would.
Despite this confidence, I decided to go on a jog to release some energy and get away from my phone. I never jogged growing up because I was active in sports and had plenty of running drills already most days at school. But now that I sit at a desk all day instead of playing sports, I definitely started to notice a difference in the mirror.
I went for a good run, feeling better than usual. Maybe getting my alignment fixed was making a subtle difference in my running form. I got back to my apartment, unlocked the door and let myself in. My phone was on the counter and instantly reminded me of everything that had been going through my mind.
I picked it up and saw a text from an unknown number.
"Tomorrow night, boy. You better be ready."
My heart, already racing from my jog, thumped against my chest. His word choice gave me the chills, simultaneously arousing me and intimidating me. Calling me "boy" caused an immediate reaction as a growing erection struggled to create space in my nylon workout briefs.
I wanted to think of a proper response before sending, but also wanted to be timely for fear of repercussion.
"At your call, sir."
It felt appropriate, indicating my obedience and eagerness to please. I wanted to add something playful and thought of sending him a pic to go with it. I took off my shirt and looked at my shape in the mirror. I had worked up a sweat and was glistening. I looked good and was tempted to have a quick photo shoot but reminded myself he was still kind of a stranger. I didn't even have his number until 5 minutes ago.
I settled on an emoji instead, adding the face with his tongue sticking out. It was playful, but also almost invoked a dog: lovable but obedient to his master. I sent it and wondered how it would be received.
He responded instantly.
"Good boy."
My cock was throbbing. I instinctively reached for it.
The bubble popped up as he typed and quickly sent: "I will send you a pin at 7. I want you here by 8."
"Yes sir."
