Thanks for the lovely emails I've been getting. They've all really been a wonderful inspiration to me, and I thank you all because you give me the strength to keep on writing. Here's Chapter Four, and I hope you enjoy. Chapter Five will be on its way soon. Please feel free to send me some feedback NoniMouse440@hotmail.com , and let me know what you think of how it's going. This work is MY creative property, so no one had better copy it. Go get your own! If you're not allowed to view this kind of material in your state, I think that you should try to change the legislation. Thanks much-
NM
Chapter 4:
The room lay swathed in quietness for a long time. Neither man spoke, each holding counsel with his own thoughts. Mike, weary but feeling triumphant, sat, still holding the doctor's hand, although he lay with his back rested against the bed. The doctor, shocked and ruminating, sat wondering what he could do to help. He knew that he could prescribe medications for Mike that, although wouldn't make his problems go away, would help them to occur less and less frequently. He knew that he could direct Mike to a number of support groups and professional psychiatrists. He knew that he could tell Mike that it'd be ok- that millions of people live with his disease, and are fine... but he also knew that none of it would work. Mike had to accept himself and accept his situation before he could move on to get help to get over it. And to get Mike to that point... he had no idea how to get Mike started on that path. And so he sat, thinking, how brave... how strong... and how sad of a person Mike truly was.
A nurse came running by the room, paused, turned back and ran right up to the bed, grabbing the doctor by the shoulder.
"We've got an emergency, Dr. Robbins, and we need you right away!" she panted. She pulled a very sluggish Dr. Robbins out of the room, and down the hall, and Mike was left alone on the bed feeling cold and alone after his heated outburst. He wasn't sure what had happened... the need for his story to be birthed had been so overwhelming. And now that it was out... what not? What now? That question raced back and forth in his mind as he drifted off to a dreamless sleep, black and comforting, wrapping him in shadow.
Mike woke later that evening to find that the Doctor was sitting in a chair at the end of the bed, looking intently at him. He couldn't read the look in the doctor's eyes, for the room was dark. The only light came from the glow of the monitoring machines humming and beeping beside his chest. Mike didn't say anything- never moved, waiting for the doctor so speak first. He felt a strange calm descend over him, and if Mike had never believed in God, he knew that this was one of the times when he felt connected. Warm strength flowed through his chest, and he felt as if he were being gently caressed- not in a sexual way, but in a very parental sense... maybe it was still the rush of blood to the head having a weird effect on his body, but he would take what he could get, and interpret it any way he could to help him through.
"Mike... I..." the doctor began, and stopped. He had his elbows resting on his knees, his hands laced under his chin, leaning forward. He now sat back, leaning in the chair, his glasses suddenly off in one hand, leaning over the side of the arm of the chair, the other rubbing his sore eyes. It had been a long day for Doctor Robbins, but he'd known that there'd be days like this one when he signed up for the job. Somewhere inside he realized he craved the punishment- it was such a rewarding task to punish oneself for, he'd decided a long time ago. He took a deep breath, sat up, and looked intently into Mike's eyes.
"Mike. You've told me a lot of things. Things that I know were important for you to say. I need to know right now. How are you feeling? I'm obligated to send for the staff psychiatrist- its policy when we hear a patient talking about contemplating suicide. But Mike... if it's any consolation to you... I'd appreciate it if you could hang on long enough to see what we have to offer." Dr. Robbins paused, leaned forward again, paused, and then stood up. He walked over to the bed, and sat down next to the man laying there. The doctor paused again, before picking up the hand that lay atop the sheets, and then continued.
"You may not see it right now, but you're a very courageous person. Having held onto all that for your life... having been strong enough to last until now. It's never easy dealing with sexual abuse- especially sexual abuse that has lasting physical and psychological reminders. People who have been through your kind of experience can feel isolated from family, friends... isolated from life, and everything that you've said so far leads me to believe that this is what you've been going through. I can't make you value your own life, Mike. I can only attempt to save it. That's my mission both at this job and in my life. I want you to know that you are the one that has to want to be here. I can't want to be here for you. Do you understand what I'm saying Mike? I can pass along to you information- resources, counseling, whatever. I might even have a single gay friend or two to throw your way." He smiled at Mike, who blushed, and looked down.
"In the end though, you need to want to be here. It wont work unless you want it to," he said softly, and then continued, "I'm going to send for the psychiatrist now. She's going to want to talk to you for a few; give you an evaluation. We'd like to keep you overnight once again, and then tomorrow, if things are ok, you can go home in the evening. How does that sound?" Mike nodded, a tear slipping out of his eyes and darkening his stark white linen.
"OH! Also, the police will be by tomorrow to take a report on what happened at your apartment. They'll be here in the morning, so we'll have u up and ready by the time they come. How does that sound?" Mike nodded again. He and the doctor sat in quietness for a few moments, and then the doctor sighed, squeezed Mike's hand, and then got up to leave. Mike gripped the doctor's hand in his own, pulling the doctor's attention back down to the bed. Mike looked up, into the doctor's eyes.
"Thank you. For... being there... and for still being here after you found out," and it was Mike this time who squeezed the doctor's hand. As their hands released, the doctor smiled down at Mike, bent over and kissed his forehead. He paused, his eyes wide opened, startled at what he'd done. He pulled himself back up, and blushed furiously.
"Uhm... you see, it's just that I used to kiss my kids on the forehead when I tucked them in to bed every night. It felt like that kind of moment... I hope that I haven't offended you in any way!" The doctor backed away, and then paused as Mike broke into laughter.
"It's ok Dr. Robbins! Thanks. I appreciate this more than you understand." The doctor smiled, waved, and then left the room. This gave Mike a chance to wonder just how old the doctor really was. He'd guessed that the doctor was in his early 40's, but apparently, the man was much older than that. He lay back against the sheets, thinking. He'd opened up, spilled himself clean, and hadn't been abandoned. In fact, he'd been embraced- quite literally. Dr. Robbins had treated him like he would his own kid- kissing him on the forehead. Perhaps it wasn't much to read into, but Mike would interpret things as would best benefit him at that point. And what of Chris? Mike felt himself getting sleepy again, and decided that he'd deal with Chris when the time came. Telling him had to feel natural- had to feel right... if he ever got to a point where he would have to tell Chris to begin with.
Sleep came easily, and dreamless enough. He woke to the sunlight streaming into his window, lighting up his face. He felt rested- better rest than he'd ever gotten in years, in fact. And he found he could breathe so much easier. A nurse walked to the door and knocked while entering the room.
"Mr. Dana how are you? My name is Nurse Briggs, and we're gonna get you all cleaned up before those two detective men get here to interview you." The interview- that's right; that was today. He allowed the nurse to help him ease out of the bed, and then trudge over to the bathroom. However, once she went to help him undress to bathe, he resisted.
"I can do this myself!!" he whined, clutching his open-backed robe tightly around himself, "I don't need your help! I'm fine! Really!" The nurse stood back, shaking her head.
"Michael stop it. It's just a penis, for crying out loud! I'm a nurse! I've seen hundreds, if not thousands of them! Give it a rest and let me do my job!" She folded her arms across her breasts, and looked at him. Mike gave up- his arms dropped to his sides, and he allowed Nurse Briggs to step forward and slip the robe down his dangling arms. Suddenly, an alarm rang out in the hall. Both Nurse Briggs and Mike jumped at the sound of it. She turned to Mike, her face flushed wide-eyed. She didn't even need to speak, as Mike nodded, and she ran out the door. Whatever it was, it definitely sounded like an emergency. He turned back to the tub, and began to fill it with warm water.
He remembered to bend at the knees, instead of bending over at the waist. The LAST thing he needed was for the doctor or nurse to return to the room to find him having drown face down, butt up to the ceiling, in a tub overflowing with warm water.
Mike closed the door, turned away from it, and then stopped. A draft of cool air blew across his hanging cock, and it twitched with the sensation. He moaned, as his cock continued to pulse, throbbing and growing hotter and hotter in relation to the cool air. He needed some privacy- a moment alone. He realized that he was so tense- so nervous- so frustrated and so scared- and he needed to relax a little. He needed to ease some tension, and as his eyes trailed down his body, he knew what he needed to do. Mike reached back with one hand, and locked the door, never taking his eyes off of his rock hard, red throbbing cock.
The sound of the running water dimmed to a dull roar, heard as if it were far away. All Mike could hear was his breathing, as his hand reached up to his shoulder, slipped down to his nipple, tweaked it, and then kept sliding down his body until it reached his soft, curly pubes. His hand kept traveling, lightly up the length of his meaty, musty smelling cock, and finally gripped it right behind the flared head. As his hand closed over his dick, Mike groaned, and his tool surged with a fire of urgency. He had to release himself; he had to. He began the stroke, firmly rubbing the underside of his cock-head, lathering the precum that dribbled freely out of his cock lips. He began to slowly pump his hips, forcing his cock through his clenched, and rapidly slickening fist, fucking his hand while standing and moaning with his head thrown back. His hips began to pump faster, and his panting grew harsher. His thighs began to quiver, and the sensations running down his cock tube were concentrating at the spot right beneath his nut sack. He could feel it happening- the almost pain-pleasure of his impending orgasm. The rush at the base of his cock, his breath catching in his throat- he could feel his dick plumping up in his fist, and he thrust forward, and with a cry, ejaculated a stream of cum that flew across the room and splattered onto the wall above the tub. Four more streams followed, each shooting out a distance and sailing to the floor in a graceful arc of white motion. His fist was wrapped tightly around the base of his cock, trapping his jerking hips from too much forward movement.
A banging on the door snapped him back to reality, as loud voices called through from the other side.
"Mr. Dana! Are you all right in there? Mr. Dana! We heard groaning- are you ok? There's water coming in under the door! Mr. Dana!" and then quietly, as if to the side, "Let's bust it open- he may be hurt." And before he could answer, before his brain could even register his feet standing in cold water, the door banged once, very loudly, and then splintered and fell in. The broken door slammed against the wall, and there were two men dressed in gray suits, standing in the doorway. They were tall- at least 6'4" each, and decently weighted. One was blond and the other had brown hair, and each had a worried expression on their faces, which quickly turned to confusion and then disbelief, and finally, embarrassment. Mike stood there, mouth open, sheet white, and unsure of exactly how to move his frozen hand away from his rapidly deflating, but still dribbling, cock.