I sat in my office, looking out the window at the cloudy Seattle sky. I tried to get comfortable, kicking up my legs, to scratch my balls before my next patient. The shitty Northwestern day was cold enough to warrant a jacket over my usual uniform of a white t-shirt and navy blue slacks. "Uniform," I muttered. The word made me chuckle. I would have been happier leaving med school to work at McDonald's. At least I might still be in Florida, smoking crack and boarding down the avenues.
Instead, I was working for a friend of my father. Now, don't get me wrong, Dr. Cho is not a bad guy. He's just a patronizing shit head who calls me 'son.' I ain't your son. Because his son is a world-renowned heart surgeon who never disappointed his family.
Me, I'm just some ghetto white boy from Tampa who managed to survive college and medical school, only to get absolutely no residency offers. I had to cut off my white-boy blonde dreads in order to graduate, but that did little to help my 'lack of professionalism.' Hence why I was stuck in rainy, tired, boring, Seattle.
"Hi, Jack," said Lucy, the office receptionist. She was an elderly woman who spent the majority of her day on the internet reading corny jokes like, 'What greeting can you never say on an airplane?'
It wasn't funny the first time of the hundredth, but apparently Hi-Jack is my name now. "I told you, I'm not answering to that name."
"Fine." Lucy puffed out her lip like a toddler. "Good afternoon, Dr. Miller. Is that better?"
I couldn't help but chuckle. Lucy was a sweet lady, one of the few people I'd consider a friend. "Yes, thank you, Miss Zhao."
Lucy rolled her eyes. "Well, Doctor, your patient has been waiting for over ten minutes."
"So? This is a public, general health, clinic people wait for hours." It wasn't' that I disliked seeing patients. Most people were positive, even fun. I just needed a change of pace.
Lucy sighed. "Please tell me you've taken the time to read the notes. This individual is, as they say in casinos, 'a whale.' So you get in there and secure him as a patient."
"A whale?" In Washinton, this probably some tech-geek millionaire. "Whatever." My eyes took a quick glance at the file for my two o'clock appointment. The name was 'John Doe- high priority privacy.' He was a fifty-two-year-old, white male suffering from migraine headaches and bone pain. "Well, this should be fun."
"Dr. Cho told me to remind you to be on your best behavior. No 'Florida-man' shenanigans." She added a finger wag, to drive the point home. I was no better than the internet-famous Florida residents who made the news for doing crazy shit like robbing a bank with a live alligator.
"Of course, Ma'am. Have fun on Reddit." I opened the door to the exam room. The mystery man was sitting on the exam table, facing away from the door. The blond man was of average height, with a slender yet muscular build. He was, of course, wearing a blue examination gown made of little more than tissue paper. This allowed me a glimpse of his broad shoulders. I also noticed the fact that he was wearing earbud headphones, with a long black wire stretching to a nearby smartphone. The patient was breathing heavily, as if in deep sleep or perhaps meditating.
Either way, my greeting was going to be cringy because I needed to speak loud enough to get his attention. "Good afternoon, Sir. I'm Dr. Miller!"
The man turned to me, red-faced, with his hands frozen in their previous endeavor. The guy had been masturbating.
His deep blue eyes looked shockingly familiar. I was absolutely sure, this guy was a notable actor; an aging star from some of my favorite action movies of the last decade. "Are you..." The name wasn't coming to me, but I certainly had the man's attention.
His eyes were wide with a look of embarrassment. His sensual lips, were framed by well-manicured facial hair, a few shades darker than the thick, slicked back, blond locks on his head. "I-I'm very sorry."
"It's fine," I said quickly, to maintain my composure. "It's completely normal. If you'd like we can just go straight into the examination, and I can ask questions then."
He nodded, as he haphazardly put his music device on a nearby table. "Thank you."
I took out my stethoscope, pressing it to his back. "Take some deep breaths for me."
The man struggled. "I-I don't think I can." The muscles in his chest were spasming, with a noticeable look of pain on his face.
That was an answer I did not expect. "Um, ok, let's try something else," the nervousness was evident in my voice. "I'm going to need you to take off the gown and recline on your back."
His movement was slow and deliberate as he let the gown slip down his back. Putting his weight on his arm, he shifted himself to lay his body flat on the table.
"Wow." I swallowed hard. The fact that the man was still sporting an erection didn't even register. Who am I kidding? His body was a sight to behold. The word sexy didn't being to describe the physique laid out before me. His chest and arms were well built. Not huge like a pro-wrestler, just large enough to be able to hold his lover close. I placed a finger on his wrist. "Your pulse seems normal. I'm going to try to listen to your heart and lungs from this position."
"I do apologize, Doctor. My lungs tend to seize up when I have panic attacks."
"Were you experiencing a panic attack?"
The man nodded slightly, as he motioned to his leg. "The migraine was causing the nerve damage in my hip to flare up."
I could tell by the scars that he had broken his hip and leg in several places, although the wounds as long healed.
"I got metal shit holding my leg together. Sometimes when I jerk off it can help with the pain."
"You suffer from chronic pain?" I placed a finger upon his thigh, tracing the massive scar that extended from his hip all the way to his knee.
"I didn't catch your name, son."
Oh hell no, not the S-word. "I'm Dr. Jack Miller, and you are?"
The man seemed amused by my annoyance. "I think I'd like you to guess."
I looked up from my work, our eyes meeting. "You want me to guess your name?"
The man laughed, a deep belly laugh. His stomach was tight for someone his age, just muscular enough to show that he worked out regularly. The head of his cock was wet with pre-cum.
It was all I could do to keep my tongue in my mouth. "What do I win?"
His uncut cock was of above-average size. And his balls were big, just begging for a release. "If you guess my name I'll clean myself off."
"And if I can't?"
"Then you have to suck me off, maybe let me fuck your throat a little."
I couldn't tell if he was joking, but the way his voice slipped into a Russian accent, gave me the answer. "You're Vladimir 'Vald' Kepler, the son of Russian immigrants which inspired your work in Mafia of the legendary, Viking Kings, and Toronto Angels. But you were born and raised in Biloxi Mississippi."
My patient seemed genuinely impressed. "You can call me Val," he said with a sexy southern accent. I knew that was his real voice. I'd seen him do interviews. He would always try to maintain a neutral, California sound, but that was a role he was playing—Vald Kepler the actor. Val, that was a different man entirely
"Can I still suck you off?" Of course, I didn't ask that out loud. Instead, I asked the slightly more professional question. "Do you mind if I examine you?" My hand seemed to move on its own, guiding my fingers to slip below his balls, stroking the soft hair on his taint. I wanted so bad to finger his ass; to watch as his body quivered. Maybe he'd lean into it, and let me fist him. But this was neither the time nor the position. "Do you have any questions before I begin?"
"Just a request, Sonny-boy. When you go to the table to put on some gloves, please hand me my headphones."
Gloves! Holy shit, I'm a fucking idiot. "And the iPhone?" I asked, trying to maintain my demeanor and our positive, doctor-patient repertoire, despite my health code violation.
"No, any track is fine."
