The Good Doctor

Chapter 59

Contact

 


This is a work of fiction.  I love getting email so if you would like to contact me you can at taarob@yahoo.com or if you’d like to see some other things that I’ve written you can go to my web site at http://www.mygaystories.com .

From the previous chapter:
She stares down at Jase.  “Is that something you’d want?  It’s not a bicycle for a boy, it’s a bicycle for a man and it isn’t a twenty inch but only a sixteen inch but that’s bigger than what you got.” 

He’s almost vibrating.  “Can we get it, Grandma?  Can we?”

She says brightly, “Oh it’s in my van.  I thought you’d want to see it.”

Before she’s completed the sentence Jase and David are hitting the door to the garage.

I stare at her for a moment and then say, “What’s with the whole, “Do they really have sizes shtick?  You know they have sizes.”

She rolls her eyes.  “It’s a sixteen inch bike and he’s gonna accept that cause it’s a grownup bike.  I use to use the same line on you…and you bought it too.”  She takes a sip of coffee and looks at me up and down.  “Are you actually gonna wear those clothes today?"

 

The Good Doctor 59

 

There was a light warm breeze that was kind of coming and going and it was causing the dappled sunlight to glide from my nose to my ear as it made the hammock sway.  I could hear my mother and Pete thirty feet away, in the house, in the kichen talking.  Mom is different when she talks to him.   Me she yells at, Pete she conspires with.  I’m pretty sure that I’m the subject of any machinations, I usually am.  Even I know that I need to be guided or at least I know that everyone thinks that.  But now, at this moment, it’s just the sun and the warm summer breeze.

But then things darken and it’s either an eclipse or someone is standing next to me.  I open one eye and Jase is staring back at me.

He puts a knee on the edge of the hammock and says, “I wanna get in, Dad.” 
One small hand is gripping an impossibly large handful of golden potato chips.

“Sure Jase.  Just try not to tip us over.  Wait lemme just lift….”  But Jase jumps the gun and tries climbing in before I get a chance to lift him in and we’re trapped in that noman’s land of us both trying to accomplish the same thing at the same time thru different methods.  Finally after a minute of panicky struggling I put my left foot on the ground to stabilize things and Jase climbs on board with potato chips held high, safely away from the conflict.  Because of the slope of the hammock he ends up lying directly on top of me with his face pressed into my chest and his knees hitting my balls.  But the potato chip hand is still held strangely aloft and the chips are safe.

I grunt while I ease his knee off of my balls.  “Comfy, Jase?”

He lifts his chin awkwardly off of my chest and looks at me.  “It’s hard for me to see ya.”

“Wait a second, Jase.”  We struggle for a couple more minutes and finally end up with Jase lying next to me.

“Still can’t see, Dad.”

“The curse of the hammock, Jase.”

He twists a bit more and then seems to decide that it’s as good as it’s gonna get.  He tries to aim a chip at my mouth by lifting his arm over his head, even though he can’t really see where he’s aiming.  “Wanna potato chip, Dad?”

Considering all that we went thru for them it seems only right.  “Sure, Jase.”  He twists a little more and holds one about an inch from my mouth.  I lift my head and crunch it.  We could starve like this.  I get a quarter of the chip in my mouth and the rest turns instantly into sharp edged salty crumbs that seem to be attracted almost magnetically to the neck of my T shirt. 

He says, “Good, huh?  Want another one?”

“S’okay, Jase, you eat em.”

Suddenly Charlie’s taupe colored head rises above the edge of the hammock like a harvest moon in mid-October, while his long pink tongue licks from one side of his muzzle to the other side.  His big doggie eyes are pleading.  He loves potato chips with a love that would put all others to shame.  A slight whine escapes while the tip of his pink tongue peeks out hopefully.

“Give one to Charlie, Jase.”

“I thought we weren’t suppose to feed em like this.”

“An exception to the rule Jase.  You have the power to make Charlie’s day.”

Jase tentatively holds out a chip to Charlie and in an instant it’s gone and Charlie’s head has barely seemed to move.  He’s lightening fast, at least where potato chips are concerned.  Jase giggles.  “He ate it, Dad!  Should I give him another one?”

I looked at his hand and did a quick count.  “You’ve got six left.  How about four for you and two for Charlie?  After all this is probably his only shot at em.”

Jase inventories his own desire for a moment and then says, “Okay.”

Charlie somehow gets this news telepathically and starts doing the Charlie dance which involves four paws frantically tapping on the ground and big ears flopping while emitting a deep throated whine that we interpret as, “Gimme!”

In a rash moment and before I have a chance to talk him out of it Jase decides to parcel out his chips on the honor system and holding out his hand to Charlie yells, “Just two, Charlie!”

Recognizing opportunity when he sees it Charlie sends his long tongue out to do the dirty work and it takes like a quarter of a second for it to weazel its wet way in between Jase’s small unsuspecting fingers and make off with all the goodies.  Charlie has already begun digesting his loot before Jase is even fully aware of what’s going on and then he just slumps back against me. 

He lifts his head and yells, “Bad dog, Charlie!  Bad bad dog!  Dad, he ate em all!”  I can feel his indignation vibrating off of him and into me.

“Hey, whadya want me to do about it?  Where potato chips are concerned dogs are not to be trusted.”  I lift my head and kiss the side of his.  “Know what the lesson to be learned here is?”

He thinks for a second while wiping dog saliva on my tee shirt.  “Don’t let dogs get near potato chips?”

“Be alert…that’s the lesson, cause you never know what’s coming next.”  Well at least that’s one of the lessons.

“Should I go get more, Dad?”

I put my hand on the back of his neck and pull his head down against my chest.  “Know what’d be good, Jase?”

“I’m not takin a nap.”

“No, no, not a real nap.   A fake-out nap so Charlie figures that you’re not even considering any more chips.”  The top of his head is tucked under my chin, his hair brushing my face, his tiny shoulder warm under my hand and there’s no way that I could ever explain to him that his nap is more for me than for him.  “Just close your eyes, Jase.  Just for a couple of minutes.  Then we’ll both go get chips.  Just close your eyes for a second.”  Of course he knows, he knows that I’m full of shit but he does it anyway because that’s the kinda kid he is.  He sleeps softly but totally, a little boy sleep, a light weight on my chest, not really a weight at all.

 

 

I never have any problems with the police.  For one thing my mom went to school with the Chief of Police and I’m guessing she was as much of a headache then as she is now.  And when I was in school so were a lot of the guys who now work for the Chief as cops.  They were friends.  So whenever there’s a benefit or the cops are selling tickets or an off-duty cop needs a new blade for his chain saw and the Ace Hardware store is closed, I never bitch or complain, I go down to the warehouse and get one, they can count on me.   Italians always take care of their friends, no questions asked.

So I was a little surprised to find out that there was a police officer on the force that I didn’t know. 

It was a strangely quiet day and I was kneeling behind my desk with my chin on the top of it while I was seeing how many seconds I could keep a quarter spinning when he ducked his head shyly in our front door with his hat pressed to his chest and looked around.  Jane broke off her conversation with Ellen about the usual celebrity DUI drivel and other meaningless crap long enough to turn, fix the youngish cop with a withering stare, and say, “May we help you?”

The guy seemed like salvation to me and I shot outta my office to greet him and pull him away from the Barracudas before they started to go for the poor bastard’s legs.

He was a little less than six feet tall with dark hair and green eyes and I must have looked like the cavalry to him too because you could practically hear his sigh of relief from twenty feet away.

He stepped away from the women like they were nitro and shoved out his hand in an almost “Awe shucks” way and said, “You must be Mr. Cortland.  My name’s Mark Hanson.”

His grip was firm but also somehow tense.  “Right, right.  C’mon in the office.  You new on the force?”

He seemed to hesitate at the door and looked around the office kind of suspiciously but then slid in and sat in the chair I was gesturing to like it might be boobytrapped.  “I didn’t expect….I just thought I’d say hello.  I patrol out this way most nights.  Check your doors and stuff, make sure nobody’s trying to break in or anything.”  He took a deep breath.  “Thought it’d be good to get to know folks…you know…personally.  The chief says to take good care of you.”  He waved his hand around.  “You know…your business.”  I was pretty sure that what I was hearing was mostly bullshit but then I’m not particularly opposed to that.  In fact if you eleminated the bullshit from my life I’d barely have one at all.

“Well, lemme tell you about the business.  It was started……”  I went on for twenty minutes and gave him the usual Cortland family history, a lot of which was even true but I gradually began to realize that he wasn’t really listening anymore.  His eyes were fixed on the opposite wall and he seemed to be looking past me almost like he was dreaming, like an infintryman’s thousand yard stare and tears were running down his face.

I stopped talking and stared at him.  It was the damndest thing I ever saw and I was almost positive that it wasn’t me for a change.  I hadn’t done anything!  At least I couldn’t think of anything that I had said that would be causing this.  But it’s kind of embarrasing.  I mean what do you say to a grown man who suddenly starts crying, especially if he’s a cop and has a gun?

I leaned forward with an earnest look on my face.  “Mark, are you okay?”  It was my gentlest most reassuring voice but then suddenly, in a blur of navy blue, he was on his feet moving for the door.  I tried to stop him but I had to get out from behind the desk and he didn’t say a word just put on his hat kept his head down and got outta there like a bat outta hell.

I was gaping at our closing front door when Jane and Ellen turned almost simultaneously and said, “What did you do to him?”

I turned and glared at them.  “Nothing you dizzy…..”  No point in going there!  I slumped in frustration.  “Awe fucking shit!”

Back in my office I collapsed in my chair looking across my desk wondering what the fuck had just happened.  He was okay when he came in here.  The only thing we talked about was the company and a little bit about my dad.  I turned my head and looked at the wall.  Was he looking at the wall or past it?  The usual shit, a bunch of meaningless plaques for having finished dumb-ass training courses for shit that nobody in their right mind cared about, a few framed pictures, a calendar with naked babes getting wet over hand tools, a long boring statement from my dad about the principles the company was founded on and I knew for a fact the he didn’t believe a tenth of that shit, a bunch of coupons for a free pizza at Pizza Hut when you buy two, the Lord’s Prayer done in glued on Cheerios by my crazy cousin Lenny’s kid, who, by the way, is following in his father’s semi-psychotic footsteps, a scary watercolor of my mom that Jason did, a piece of fabric with the word “THINK” crocheted on it in bright orange, supplied by mom, a small card with the phone number and the hours of Pete’s clinic on it….just the usual stuff, nothing terrifying.  Certainly nothing that’d make a cop cry, especially a cop who wasn’t related to me.

 

Pete’s mouth was still clamped to mine but he was beginning to gasp for breath out of the corner of it so I let him go.  He took a long deep breath and then slumped forward his face buried in my neck still struggling for air.  His hard wet cock was moving slowly out of me so the adventure was not quite over for me but then in a sigh it was and I let go of the breath I was holding and kissed his ear.

The side of his face was bristly with the day’s growth of beard and it felt very male and very right.  He lifted his head a bit and gave me a soft kiss.  My ankles were still hooked behind his thighs and when I thought about that I smiled and said, “This’d make a great picture for the Christmas cards.”

He ran his tongue lightly over my lips and then kissed.  Breaking the kiss he said, “It’s probably pretty much what everyone figures it would be.”

I shook my head and then closed my teeth lightly on his chin, the bristle rough on my tongue and his sweat salty.  Then I dropped my head back and smiled up at him and said, “Nope.  I tell em you’re the bottom.”

His eyes were all glittery blue staring into mine and there was a trace of a grin on his face.  His voice was deep but soft, playing with me.  “Nobody’d believe it.  I’m way too macho.”

I moved my ankles against the backs of his thighs and he closed his eyes for a moment.  When he opened them he smiled down at me and murmured,   “Gonna start something all over again if you keep that up.”

Actually I was pretty sure that something already was started or maybe that it hadn’t really ended and I reached down between us and pulled the head of his hard cock down so that it was lined up with me.  Then I pulled him in and lifted myself to meet him.  I was almost off the bed holding onto him with my legs and my arms around his shoulders.  As he moved into me I buried my face in his shoulder and gasped, “Oh yeah!  Yeah like that!”

 

He was cleaning us up with a warm damp towel.  It felt great.  I felt like he was taking care of me.

He shook his head.  “I know for a fact that the typical orgasm is only about a quarter of an ounce of semen.  So what we got here, max, is like an ounce but it sure spreads around like a gallon of blood.”

I grinned up at him.  “As any parent can tell you, poop is the same way.”

He laughed.  “Poop?  As in feces?”

I nodded. “If the pooper, sometimes known as the defecate or is it defecator, is under ten it’s poop, over ten it becomes shit.”

He tossed the towel towards the hamper and flopped down next to me and pushed me over on my left side.  “What, these are the facts of life as put out by PlaySkool?”

He slid in behind me and shoved his right leg thru mine and put his left arm under my head and then wrapped me up with his right arm, our normal sleeping position.  I was coccooned.  I really really liked it.

“Definitely!  Kids live in their own world.  If they’re really lucky, there’s no bad stuff there.”

He grunted because he knew better than most how unlikely that was to be the norm.

My mind had been drifting back over the day, well, thinking about the cop mostly.  I said, “I can’t get that cop outta my head.”

Pete’s breath was warm on my ear.  “You’re sure you didn’t say anything to him?”

“Like what?”

“I dunno.  Sometimes…well…sometimes you just kinda say stuff.”

I groaned, twisted my head a little and bit his bicep.”

“Ow!  Eric!  That fucking hurt!”

“Pete, you make it sound like I’m some sorta mouth monster that goes around verbally degutting old ladies and little kids and…well,,,,adults!”

He rubbed his face against my hair.  “And cops, don’t forget your latest conquest.  You know, seriously, sometimes I think that you really do need a spanking.”  An idle threat if I ever heard one.  Pete’s voice had the unmistakable sound of someone moving headlong into sleep.

My back was pressed tight to his chest just as his crotch was pressed to my ass.  I wiggled my butt and kissed his arm where I had bitten it.  “It’s right there.  Knock yourself out.”

He snuggled closer to me and I could hear the sleep in his voice as he murmured, “Don’t do that, Eric, I don’t have the strength for another round.”