Chapter 2: Office Mates
1009 Words
Chapter 2: Office Mates
With his head bent over the desk studying his notes on a yellow legal tablet, Dr. Guy Sanford glanced up when his partner came into his office and quietly shut the door behind him. “Hal, I’m worried. I think—”
“That’s your problem, Guy, you think too much. Same for most of us so-called psychiatrists.” He walked over behind Guy’s chair and ran a finger across the nape of his partner’s neck. “Mmm. You’re quite warm. Have a temperature?”
“I’m fine. Just—”
“Worried. Yes, I know.” He put his hands lightly on Guy’s shoulders. “You need a little pick me up. How about a full body massage.”
“Right here in the office? You’re crazy.”
“Yes, Ms. Lansing said something of the sort a moment ago.”
“My God, it’s only ten AM. You’re insatiable. We barely slept last night. “
“Yes, well, you can’t lay all the blame at my door. Seems you had quite a lot to do with it yourself.” Hal started to massage Guy’s shoulders.
“You know where that leads, and we’ve got far too much to do planning this ridiculous trip you’ve cooked up.”
“We’ve cooked up.”
Guy tried to resist, but briefly gave in. He dropped his pen on the pad, and leaned back into the moment, into the pleasure of his partner’s touch. Then, “Hal, stop.” He swiveled around and his mischievous smile met that of his lover’s. He pointed to a chair on the other side of his desk. “Sit.”
Hal put up his hands in surrender and complied meekly. “Just my way of wishing you good morning.”
“Yes, well, we’ve already done that in the privacy of our home.”
“All right,” Hal said. “Tell me your concerns again, but I warn you I won’t change my mind. An excellent opportunity has presented itself, and we’d be fools to pass it up. We’ve got our subjects—”
“Patients,” Guy said. “Please force yourself, if at all possible, to be a little less clinical.”
“Yes, patients, thank you.” Hal settled back and crossed his legs. “Okay, shoot.”
“Don’t tempt me.” Guy made a gun with his finger.
“Go on.”
“You’re taking six of our female patients with serious emotional problems—”
“Handpicked, I might add, by both of us,” Hal added.
Guy waved his comment away. “All right. We’re taking them for a weekend in the Sierras with all costs covered by our practice. Right so far?”
“Yes, late September is one of the best months as far as rates go.”
Guy tried to ignore the obvious gleam in his partner’s eyes. “Then the plan’s to board a boat, motor to a small island, and settle ourselves into a mountain home in the middle of a goddamn freezing lake.”
“Little boat, kind of a launch actually. And it shouldn’t be that cold. Yet.”
“We drop them down into a completely unfamiliar environment and what? Just wait and see what happens?”
“Yes, mainly. Thanks to our monthly group meetings, the patients all know each other and seem quite comfortable talking about their—how did you so politically put it—ah, their emotional issues. Don’t forget we have the funds for the trip. Even Ms. Lansing has agreed to go along as chaperone, quite wholeheartedly.”
“How did you manage that little miracle?”
“A raise and a little something extra in her Christmas stocking. Not as much of a challenge as you might think.”
Guy felt the worry lines furrow his brow. “Be serious. This getaway or whatever the hell you’re calling it could backfire on all of us.”
“Yes, but I doubt it. Just think positively, Guy. If we’re successful, you and I have much to gain.”
“What exactly?”
“Well, you never know. This could turn into a revolutionary treatment that sparks co-authored articles in the most prestigious journals, and all sorts of good things. Just think of the medical conferences with our names at the forefront. Keynoters. You and I will be famous like Freud and Jung. We’ll be touted as great innovators in psychiatry and medicine.”
“Now whose delusional,” Guy said and sighed heavily. “More like notorious. We could lose everything. All we’ve worked for over the years. One false step, one unforeseen disaster not dealt with properly, and our illustrious careers, and I say this in the most politically incorrect manner I can manage, will be swishing around the toilet bowl.”
“Maybe. But we’ll never know unless we try.”
“Stop repeating yourself. I have a feeling we’ll both live to regret it,” Guy said.
“I already regret lots of things.”
“Like?”
“I regret not meeting you earlier in my life.”
“Nonsense,” Guy said. “You’re only a tad older.”
“Try fifteen years. That can make a big difference. Later on.”
“We have plenty of time,” Guy said.
“Do we?”
“Yes, we do.” He reached over the desk and took Hal’s hand, and then pressed it tight in his. “Have your ever thought, and I mean this kindly, darling, that you might be the tiniest bit mad?”
“Often,” Hal said, and then flashed one of his most irresistible smiles. “All the time.”
“Now I really am worried.”
“We’ll be there to supervise the patients, provide support as we normally do here, and give the women our undivided attention.”
“Except when we’re screwing our heads off.”
“There is that. We may have to curtail our…uh, activities a bit. Just for the weekend. Yes, I see your point, but we should—”
“No shoulds allowed, remember?” Guy said. “Didn’t we learn that early on in Psychiatry 101.”
“That rule’s strictly for patients. Doesn’t apply here, not to you and not to me. Besides, this argument between us is getting old. Let’s change the subject. I have something for you.”
“Yes, I’ve seen it,” Guy said, “many times.”
“No, it’s something else, something you crave.”
Guy shook his head. “I’m not buying. Like I said, I’ve seen it.”
“Too bad for you then. I stopped in at The Cream Puff & Éclair on my way to the office.” Hal stood up and turned toward the door.
“Wait! Where did you hide it?”
“Mmm. Too late now. I can’t wait to sink my teeth into that fresh chocolaty dough. I’ll just ask Ms. Lansing if she’d care for—” Hal was almost to the door, his hand on the doorknob, when Guy pulled him back and led him over to the couch.
The Seth Thomas on a small table in the corner ticked away in unison to the muted sounds of Ms. Lansing’s keyboard tapping in reception.
“I thought you’d change your tune.”
“And you’ll tell me?” Guy asked. “I’m starved and practically salivating.”
“Yes, afterwards.” Hal grinned and pushed Guy back on the couch, gently. He unbuckled his lover’s belt. “You’ve been a very naughty boy, haven’t you?”
Guy’s erection began to grow within the confines of the silk fabric of his Pierre Cardin trousers. “Yes. I’ve been very bad indeed.” Then he kicked off his shoes and slid his pants and briefs down around his ankles. “I’ll do almost anything for one of those éclairs.”
Hal laughed. “I knew you’d come around.” Then, burying his lips in the curly blond hair of his lover’s groin, he whispered, “You just might have to share that sweet I brought you. I’m working up quite an appetite, honey.”
- Writer
