“You’re flexible,” Dr. Schaffer commented, pushing Dylan’s knees toward his chest as he carried him toward the door. “Can you put your feet behind your head?”
He squeezed Dylan’s knees and chest together, putting pressure on the back of his legs, making him wheeze.
“Yes,” Dylan confirmed once Dr. Schaffer relaxed his hold enough that he could breathe again.
He’d had a phase in high school where he’d made it his life’s mission to suck his own cock. He’d succeeded, but as with many things in life, the fantasy was better than the reality. Dylan rarely bothered to suck himself off these days. It was just too much trouble.
“Nice.” Dr. Schaffer sounded like Dylan’s flexibility was giving himideas.
“Can you?” Dylan asked, curious.
Dr. Schaffer laughed. “No. I’m super inflexible. I can barely touch my toes. Ryker is pretty flexible, though, which is impressive considering how big his muscles are.”
Dylan was suddenly desperately curious to know what Ryker looked like.
“All right, time to be serious.” Dr. Schaffer lowered Dylan to his feet, wrapping the blanket around his shoulders. “Put on your pants and I’ll remove your mole.”
Dr. Schaffer stepped back, bending down to pick up his dress-shirt where he’d dropped it on the floor. He put it on, buttoning it up and tucking it into his pants, his attitude suddenly all business.
It was a little startling.
Dylan put on his pants and sat down on the bench, folding his hands in his lap as he watched the doctor prepare the tools to remove his mole.
It felt like he’d been abruptly jerked out of the porn-world he’d stumbled into and hurled back into the real world. Dr. Schaffer looked a little disheveled – the front of his suit was wet, and his shirt was sticking to his sweaty pecs – but none of the lecherous heat from before lingered in his body or expression.
Dylan had never experienced anything so weird.
Dr. Schaffer instructed him to lie on his stomach and then proceeded to numb the area around his mole and remove it. He put the mole in a small test-tube and stitched up the area where he’d cut.
“I’ll send this off and text you the results as soon as I get them,” he said, putting a label on the tube before putting it away. “The stitches are dissolving, so you don’t need to do anything but keep the area clean for the next few days.”
Dylan sat up and awkwardly put on his shirt and then stepped off the bench to put on his shoes and jacket. He looked around for his bag, only to realize he’d left it in the waiting room.
“So now I just… go?” he asked, feeling a little lost.
“You could come back to my place, if you want,” Dr. Schaffer said, walking over to him and cupping his cheek. He grinned, and Dylan felt better at the gentle touch. “It can be a little intense after a scene like that, and I’d feel better if you weren’t alone.”
Dylan was tempted to say yes, but he needed some time for himself to think and process everything that had happened in the last hour.
“Thanks, but I have to go home. I have a lot of work to get done this weekend, and-”
“You don’t have to explain,” Dr. Schaffer interrupted, removing his hand from Dylan’s cheek.
He was still smiling, though there was something a little wistful about it.
“Were you serious about going on a date?” Dylan asked, bracing to feel like an idiot if Dr. Schaffer said no.
“Of course,” Dr. Schaffer said, his grin turning cocky. “Are you free on Wednesday?”
Dylan nodded. Wednesday he had class in the morning, but after three his schedule was wide open.
“So if I picked you up at seven, that would be okay?”
Dylan nodded. “That works for me.”
“And Cynthia’s got your contact details?”
Dylan nodded.
