It was personal and yet not, a cursory glance of my name with a standard greeting. Not that I care particularly, but I can't help wondering as I take my documents from her perfectly manicured hand if I could get away with that level of indifference in my own work. Perhaps I should try it, perhaps it was my lack of indifference that led me to be walking down this gangway to board this flight in the first place.
It was only a few weeks since I had stood behind another glass wall. On that particular day the sun had not been especially bright, in fact it had been pretty nondescript to the point where I would struggle to describe it, though to be fair it wasn't the focus of my attention at the time.
***
The gantry was possibly one of the busiest places in the hospital. The link between the two main buildings meant you didn't have to do the long trek through the corridors and cross the hectic roads below. Today, however, it gave the best view of the entrance to the neurology department. Today, I was compelled to pause for a moment and watch as one particular patient celebrated his release from this place. To be honest, I was a little jealous that he was off to a brave new world, not because it was away from me, I had known when it happened what our encounter had meant. He was recovered; albeit somewhat miraculously, from a terrible, terrible accident, and there he went laughing with his friend as if the past few weeks hadn't even registered. As if his time with me yesterday hadn't occurred.
Meeting Pete hadn't been logged as anything remarkable in my appointment schedule. In fact when he had been wheeled into my treatment room in the physio department, I anticipated that he was going to be another frustrated young man, who's mind was more willing to move than his body was capable of. Another journey to take a patient on from expectation to reality. His file was a shocking read: the accident, the injuries, they should have been catastrophic, in most cases they would have taken months, if not years to recover from. I thought he would be one of those difficult cases but call it the essence of youth or whatever you like, Pete was determined to prove us all wrong, and he did.
He was definitely a flirt, far too young for me, but he had an air of... something I can't quite put my finger on about him that seemed to give him an edge of maturity. Our sparring had begun almost immediately, he was insistent that he didn't need the mandated six weeks of physiotherapy. I was insistent that he would in fact with the extent of his injuries, need much longer. He was up for the challenge and like many before him I had offered him the premise that if he could pass all my tests right there and then that I would have no choice but to sign him off. It is usually a really productive exercise for overzealous patients to recognise their limitations in a way that gives them control.
Just like my other patients, Pete jumped at the chance and I had resigned myself to an hour of watching a young man crumple as he realised the new mode his body would operate within. However, like I said, Pete was determined to show exactly what he was capable of; and every movement and test I had him perform brought a new level of acuity in his presentation that he was going to go home. It was like I could feel it reverberating out from him as I tried to press and manipulate his movements, by all accounts there should have been some failures but there just wasn't. This man, who had been wheeled into my treatment room, presented in optimum physical health. More than that, I couldn't quite articulate it then and I still can't, but he was just radiant.
It didn't take me long to conclude that he was more than okay, and I could sign him off for release. Apart from the fascination with his case file, he was overflowing with some innate vibe that kept me working with him long after I knew that he did not require any physiotherapy. I just wanted to be in his presence, and then I just wanted to keep touching his body and then, well, it just got a little crazy, and there was nothing I could or even wanted to do to control what happened next and he had been all in for the ride.
It's not like I haven't had wicked thoughts about patients before, fantasised even. I have always gotten a kick out of my sexuality, and that part of my imagination I give over to those naughty thoughts that most of my friends and colleagues wouldn't even realise I process. This was different though, before I knew it, I was unabashedly propositioning him. I'm not one to pay attention to work gossip, but I had heard some pretty saucy rumours about him and one of the nurses in the neurology department, and something about it, about this prowess that seemed to ooze out of him just made me want to have a taste of it.
It was that thought pattern and a suggestion from me about the best way to test his stamina, that led to the most amazing sex I have ever had, in fact to call it just sex is a disservice, it was so much more.
We had indulged in each other for the rest of the afternoon, he hadn't hesitated at my suggestion, he hadn't stepped away from my predatory like intentions towards him, he had welcomed it in fact. Where so many other lovers in my life had been intimidated, he embraced it and wanted me to show him more. I liked that. He was different, he hadn't taken the usual bait when I seduced, he allowed me to carry through to the end. I found the whole thing very empowering.
We played our game of chess; he watched as I dipped my fingers inside my underwear and then he responded with the kind of attention and caresses that I have found few men in my experience possess in their playbook, let alone a man as young as Pete. He managed to make me climax before I had even properly touched him, something about the way he caressed me, the energy of his lips on my skin set my body on fire. His intuition about how I like to be pleasured was acute, like he tuned into my bandwidth. He desired me and I soon gave up my ideals of sexual impression and need to prove myself; his self-assuredness commanded that I lay back and enjoy the experience, in mutual understanding that our gratifications was as much of a turn on for him as me, as he licked, sucked and lavished attention to my centre, to the damp core I presented to him at the apex of my thighs. It was an intoxicating melody of climatic eruptions that heralded the start of our afternoon of fun and fucking.
I took my turn to pleasure him, to indulge him with my mouth on his impressive shaft in the same way that he had feasted on me. I took him to the edge, cataloguing the entire experience as our eyes locked on each other, those eyes, so deep and so very sexy, they have become the image that I have come back to every time I have touched myself since, kneeling before him, sucking his beautiful length, and looking up into those eyes that seemed to just penetrate into my very soul.
Then our coupling really took hold, like our minds were one. We had moved together onto the mats of my consult room, and he entered me from behind in the most raw, primal way; filling every inch of me and gripping my hips as he thrust deeper and faster until I was undone like a limp doll under him as my crest wrapped and squeezed his member like my life depended on it to hold me up. It was frenzied orgasmic fucking and we both felt the need, yet we were both attuned to the other side. Just when I imagined that he was another guy that would ram his pleasure out without much thought beyond gratification, it changed and we went beyond that at the exact same time; is that crazy to think, could there be such a thing? It was just a natural, joint shift that happened between us.
We stopped fucking, the delicious epic fucking, and we made love.
With no expectation or promise that it would go beyond this moment we were in, we both understood what we needed next. We were hungry, we clung and joined together with an intimacy that lifetimes of lovers might not find, it's like he finally got me to understand that next level, how it could be to just move as one, with affection, with intention, where nothing else matters outside of our quest to reach a mutual high. I like to think I gave him some deeper understanding of what could be as well, even though he seemed to be showing me something, guiding me towards somewhere. No, we were journeying together, I felt his desire as he moved over me, into me, over and over, before I gently pushed him back and we locked eyes as I felt his pleasure rise, and he gave in to his own release and filled me with his seed. We were euphoric.
Then it was done, we showered, we kissed, we laughed, and we teased as we dressed; the easy sparring from when he had first entered my room returned. I didn't ask for any promises, and he didn't offer any, it's like he sensed that my mind was made up there and then; I was going to find
more
. He wasn't that
more
, but he was a wake-up call, and as I placed my hand on the wheelchair to take him back to the ward the same way he arrived, he covered my hand with his and slid his other hand into my hair at the back of my neck. I felt his fingers splay as he tilted my head to look at him. He didn't have to tell me that he was walking out of the room, his quiet determination flashed through his eyes before he dropped his lips and brushed them over mine, and then as he broke away, he stopped for a second his mouth an inch from mine and I saw the affection in his eyes. A moment later he stepped away and his hand shifted to tuck a stray strand of hair behind my ear as his thumb caressed my jaw line before he said softly: