Chapter One
Dutch & Doctor Lamouerux
This is a repost of my most successful novel to date, originally written in 2002 and reedited in late 2010. It is the story of a couple, Dutch and Rosa; a daughter, Kathy, and their friends who, over time combine and become the Gathering. I think it turned out rather well . . . do you?
It was late afternoon under a cloudy, but non-rain threatening sky, roughly four miles from the Pacific Palisades and the surf at Malibu. A battered '85 Volvo served sharply into a tight parking space, wedging itself firmly between a much newer red BMW and a dark green Mercedes convertible.
A dark-haired man in his late forties lithely emerged from the noticeably physically abused vehicle, slamming the door shut behind him. Then, rather than walking away, the man took a vicious kick at the car door, adding yet another dent to the heavily pockmarked Volvo. The odd thing was the man expressed no discernible anger, and after examining the dent, calmly walked away from the vehicle.
This was no pretty boy or leading man here; his skin was a weathered copper, with deep wrinkles around the eyes from a lifetime of squinting into the sun. His course black hair has started to thin; and his dark brown eyes crinkled as he glanced at his wristwatch. His mouth relaxed in a lazy grin as he confirmed he was exactly on time for his appointment with Dr. Sharon Lamouerux at the Los Angeles Blood Work Center. He walked purposefully to the receptionist, smiled down at her and announced his name.
"Good morning, I'm Dutch Perry. I have a 9:45 appointment with Dr. Lamouerux."
The receptionist, whose name-tag read 'Beverly Smoots', coquettishly returned the smile, and fidgeted with her bracelet while wondering what it was about this Mr. Perry that was causing her to become aroused. In turn, he weighed her look and summarily dismissed any thought of seducing her. Beverly stopped fidgeting with her bracelet for a moment to glance down at the appointment book and found his name listed there.
Looking up at him, she gave him the benefit of her professional smile and brightly chirped, "Yes, Mr. Perry, the doctor will be with you in a moment. Please have a seat."
Dutch settled into a comfortable chair, and aware that he was under the watchful eye of the receptionist, took a moment to adjust his crotch. He reminded himself that waiting rooms were just that — waiting rooms — and settled in to wait.
Dr. Lamouerux didn't keep him waiting; at exactly 9:45 the door to her office opened and a pert young nurse whose nametag read Cindy Rawlings, called his name. Dutch got up and followed her into the Doctor's office. After the usual initial medical examination procedures, a woman of about 40, wearing large framed glasses came in and Cindy left. Dutch appraised the doctor as she turned away from him briefly. 'Man,' he thought, 'she's a curvaceous little honey. Great ass and those small, but high-rising tits straining against her blouse have got to be real. But I think her legs are her best feature.' He was still devouring her with his eyes when she interrupted his thoughts.
"Good morning Mr. Perry. I'm Doctor Sharon Lamouerux," she said, adjusting her eyeglasses.
"I'm very pleased to meet you Doctor. Dutch Perry, please ... call me Dutch, everyone else does."
"Fine, now ... Dutch, tell me what is the problem?"
"Doctor, I lead a . . . um, very active sex life. I want ... or probably need to be tested for STD's on a regular basis. I was hoping I could get all the essential testing done at one facility, preferably this one."
"Well, yes, we can certainly help you there," she said, and he noted her voice had grown a little deeper, almost husky. She handed him a small packet of cloth, saying, "Here's one of our smocks. Please remove your clothing. You can use the hangers on the door here. I'll be back in a moment."
Dutch quickly peeled off his black T-shirt and removed his trousers. He wore no underwear. He put on the smock a moment before the doctor knocked on the door. "Come in, I'm ready," he replied quickly. Dr. Lamouerux entered, pulled on a pair of latex gloves then sat on a stool next to him. Covertly, in the way women the world over do, she glanced at his bare chest. Studying it intently, as if she were counting the hairs on his chest; doing some version of a masculinity calculation known to women only.
"Stand up, please, Mr. Perry." Taking a deep breath, she began to examine his genitals. Dutch wasn't sure, but got the impression the doctor was deciding whether to bed him or not. Then her professionalism took over and she began a more through examination.
"Do you have any reason to believe you've contracted any sexually transmitted diseases?" She asked.
"No, but I am very active sexually." He took a deep breath and said, "And one never knows."
"You're right. One never knows. Peel the foreskin back please."
He did as she asked, and the doctor performed a through examination lasting about three minutes before saying, "You look all right, but we won't know anything for sure until the blood work is completed, so let's get on with that aspect, shall we?"
"Anything you say, Doc."
He realized he was getting an erection, and as a male nurse (his true vocation) he knew how they were dealt with and awaited the sharp slap that was to come. When none came he stared at the good-looking Doctor and discovered that she was seemingly entranced with his cock. Her hand was poised in midair, halfway to the tray containing the needles used for taking blood. Slowly, just as he released his breath, Dr. Lamouerux came out of her trance like state, reached out and began to fondle his testicles.
"You've a lovely cock," she said, her voice laden with lust. His cock continued to engorge. "So nice and fat."
She continued to fondle him, lightly squeezing his bulging member. "I see that your cock head is bullet-shaped and then thickens beyond that. It's most interesting and most unusual. How long is it?"
"A little over seven inches, Doc."
""Ill tell you what, Mr. Perry. Here in the office I'll call you Dutch if you'll call me Sharon." She gave him a Cheshire—like grin that told him the good doctor wanted to suck his cock.
"You must satisfy a lot of women," she said, releasing his pulsating member and licking her upper lip with a startling pink tongue. Then she turned her professional demeanor back on and said, "Well, the earliest I can get the results back will be tomorrow afternoon. I'm sorry about that, but that's out of my control."
Her sincerity rang true, and Dutch, knowing the medical profession realized that getting the results the following day was really pushing it. He also knew she could be of help to him in other ways. Dutch smiled at her and said, "Doc ... err, Sharon, tomorrow would be wonderful. Shall I drop by and pick up the results?"
Sharon's eyes remained on his still erect dick. "Normally we call the patient, but you seem anxious to learn the results . . . why not drop by say, around three?"
"Three would be great," he replied then reached out and touched the doctor's face. "I certainly hope I'm in the clear."
She didn't pull away, but smiled at him.
"You probably are, but if not, well . . . we can certainly help you get back on track — at least in most instances. You can get dressed now. Can you find your way out?"
"Sure I can. So," he said, as his eyes boldly roamed the doctor's lithe form, "Tomorrow at three."
"Three," she smiled and turned to leave the examining room. And with a lingering look at the doctor's curvaceous rear as she left, Dutch reached for his shorts and got dressed.
***
Dutch had already planned the rest of his evening. He'd go directly home to his apartment, throw on a pornographic DVD; consume a six-pack to complete a relaxing evening. If tomorrow went as expected, he could start to play around again safely. He envisioned the teenaged hitchhiker who had triggered his need for a through examination, with her legs around his neck as he'd fucked her silly in the backseat of his battered Volvo.
Great sex
, he told himself,
but I'd known nothing of her history and of course hadn't had time to buy any condoms. Well, the next woman would require clearances before I go too far with her.
"Yeah, right!" he said aloud, and then laughed.
Dutch approached his car, kicking the door before opening it and slipping into the leather interior. He smiled as he thought of all the people in Los Angeles who had expressed puzzlement over the many dents in his "Black Beauty." Actually it was a defensive driving technique he'd picked up in Paris several years earlier. With all the crazed drivers in La La Land, the battered condition of his car served to keep others away from him. This dramatically reduced the number of road rage combatants he encountered on L.A.'s Freeways. A more useful by-product was that the car's condition usually created open space for maneuvering in the morning traffic.
Pulling onto the 10 Freeway, Dutch's thoughts turned to Marilyn, his ex.
Ah, Marilyn
," he said to himself.
What a great fuck you were
. And his dick commenced to heat up. He recalled that she'd loved to get dressed; if one could call going braless and without panties dressed; and how on arriving at a nightspot she'd wait patiently until some stranger eyed her from across the room. "Show -time, honey," she'd say, and start crossing and uncrossing her beautiful legs until the guy got a hardon watching her. Later Dutch would join her in the game, running his hand under her skirt and up her thigh.
If Marilyn thought some guy was observing them she tended to spread her legs apart signaling him to finger her cunt. Of course, that served to get the two of them (not counting the voyeur) hotter than hell, and they'd get out on the dance floor with Marilyn rubbing her cunt against his dick until they had to bolt for the car or he came on the dance floor. Once in a while she would masturbate herself at their table, knowing someone was staring right at her.
Dutch chuckled as he skillfully steered around a tractor-trailer, recalling that on several occasions they had both come on the dance floor. He fixed on the time she was pulling at his fly as they made for his Volvo, and she nearly tore his slacks off; ripping a long gash in the material. He hadn't noticed it in the heat of the moment; wanting only to stick his dick in her snatch, or have her wrap her lips around his thick, meaty rod.
Another memory drifted in as he increased his speed to 20 miles per hour over the limit. Shortly after marrying Marilyn, they were invited to attend her ex-boyfriend's engagement party. The guy,
the fuck was his name?
Dutch wondered.
Earl! That was it. Earl, a nice enough guy whose lady already had that well fucked-look when they'd arrived
.
Twenty minutes later, Marilyn had urged him to dance with her. The girl had moved in tightly against him and whispered, "Marilyn seems like such a nice girl. I really like her."
He recalled pushing his rising boner into her and causing her to giggle. "Yeah," he had replied, "she's a very nice girl."
But what followed had severely eroded his marriage with Marilyn.
"Well what I don't understand," she'd said, throwing her cunt right into his boner, "is how she let Earl get away. I mean with his ten-inch cock and all."
Dutch remembered his surprise at the mention of Earl's cock size.
The girl had gripped his cock and said, "We might be able to arrange a four-some some time, but it would have to be after we get married." Then the dance ended and they returned to their partners.
Mechanically, Dutch turned off at his exit and mused about that night. He'd told Marilyn of the offer and learned that good old Earl had been groping Marilyn's cunt through her dress. It seemed he'd also mentioned all of them getting together, only he'd wanted to set it up for later that evening.
