Please, Doctor

Standalone Books, All Books, Short Stories, Contemporary

Chapter One

"This was a huge mistake!" Patrick McNeill sat on the barstool and tried to hold on to his temper. With his back to the huge mirrors behind the glass shelves containing more different types of alcohol than he wanted to count, he had a good view of what was going on in the dim lighting. When he’d first walked in about an hour ago, he’d gaped at the unbelievable setup that made the bar area look über-decadent with the reflections visually doubling the number of bottles actually there. Despite the amazing display, it wasn’t the main attraction, however.

"How can going to Pepper on a Friday night be a mistake?" Martin, his best friend since elementary school, lowered the pint of bitter he’d been nursing and stared at Patrick as if he’d committed a crime. Martin shook his head, causing his red locks to bounce. His hair was just a little too long for his style to be called fashionable, and added to his big blue eyes they made him look more like a teenager than a man in his late twenties. "Pepper is the hottest gay club in Manchester—possibly all of north England!"

"I don’t know." Patrick shrugged and took another sip of his Porn Star #2—the smooth mixture of Malibu and crushed strawberries just sweet enough to soothe his rising annoyance. Some people might consider it a 'girly' drink, but he didn’t care. He was so far out of his element in this place it wasn’t funny. And anyway, this was a gay bar and the concoction was on the menu, so sue him for ordering one.

"What do you mean you don’t know?" Martin raised his eyebrows incredulously then pointed around them in a circular motion. "None of these men do it for you? Not even a little?"

Patrick surveyed his surroundings again, hoping to find a man who could hold his interest. This place offered a variety of choices to the discerning gay man on the prowl. Hell, even less perceptive patrons were sure to find someone to their liking here. The range went from the scruffy leather-type to the more sophisticated, well-dressed man, and from the very young up to the older ‘daddies’ who were so popular with some. Pepper was one of the few clubs able to attract this wide a clientele.The overcrowded dance floor was definitely the biggest attraction. With loud, very bass-heavy music blaring through strategically placed loudspeakers, there was no escaping the rhythmic beat of Manchester's hippest gay bar anywhere in the public areas, but most the majority of the most outrageous action was right here. Well, the parts of the action with at least some clothing still in place. Based on what he saw here, Patrick was afraid to go to the men's room, never mind check out any of the back rooms that seemed rather well frequented based on the number of people walking back and forth.

With most of the guys men shirtless, pressing and rubbing up against each other in a frenzy of movement, Patrick had his pick of whom to watch. To the left a very tall man with broad shoulders was swaying his hips while his partner sinuously danced up against him, trying to reach as much skin with his greedy hands as possible. Right next to them, two somewhat older men stood in a tight embrace, kissing as if they were being paid for not coming up for breath, hands slipping and sliding over each other's bodies, groins in such tight close contact that what they were doing probably counted as frottage. Their hips were definitely thrusting in an extremely suggestive fashion.

A little more to the right, towards a dark corner, there were three men clearly getting it on like a well-oiled team. Two dark-haired, well-muscled guys men were sandwiching a pretty, lively twink wearing the tightest leather pants trousers in existence. He kissed one then the other, seemingly unable to make up his mind. The happy smile on his face, combined with the way his hips thrust into the man in front of him as the other guy bloke pushed against his arse from behind, left no doubt that he was having a wonderful time.

Patrick sighed, taking a deep sniff of the pungent club air. It was a mixture of beer, other alcoholic fumes, sweat and arousal. He didn't want to check too closely what some of the other ‘fragrances' might be that contributed to the club's unique scent profile. Normally very receptive to ‘flavours of the air', as he liked to call them, the ones here definitely did not do it for him. Now, the scent of hospital disinfectant and lingering notes of ammonia and rubbing alcohol, that would be a different matter...

His cock agreed, stirring for the first time this evening and clearly trying to encourage Patrick to keep thinking along the lines of white corridors, uncomfortable plastic chairs, cute male nurses in tight outfits, and shiny medical instruments.

"Your sigh tells me you're going to say no." Martin sounded disappointed.

"No, can't say they do." Patrick returned his attention to his well-meaning friend, raised eyebrows and all. "I mean, they're attractive, some of them are really even cute, but it's they're not what I need. Maybe it's just the atmosphere or the idea that all this is really just a meat market. But something is missing for me."

"Yeah, I know," Martin grumbled and finished his beer.

"There isn't enough white clothing here, right?"

"Basically." Patrick was not going to give Martin any more details.

He had tried to explain once, and the resulting disgust and fear on Martin's face and in his eyes had ensured he'd never broached the subject again. Most people, like his friend, cringed at the thought of a genital or rectal exam, or the rows of sterilised instruments lined up on gleaming trays, just waiting to be used on a willing body. For Patrick, anything to do with doctors and the tools of their trade had always seemed kind of naughty-fascinating in a forbidden sort of way.

©Serena Yates, 2013
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