I sat in my office, looking out the window at the cloudy Seattle sky. I tried to get comfortable, kicking up my legs, to scratch my balls before my next patient. The shitty Northwestern day was cold enough to warrant a jacket over my usual uniform; white t-shirt and navy-blue slacks. “Uniform,” I muttered. The word made me chuckle. I would have been happier leaving medical school to work at McDonald's. At least I might’ve still been in Florida, smoking crack and boarding down the avenues. Fuck, I could’ve bought a car and rode up to New York, maybe even Niagara Falls.

Instead, I was working for a friend of my father. Now, don't get me wrong, Dr. Cho is not a bad guy. He's just a patronizing shit head who calls me son. I am not your son. (Because your son is a world-renowned heart surgeon who never disappointed his family.) Me, I'm just some ghetto white boy from Tampa who managed to survive college and medical school, only to get absolutely no residency offers.

I mean, fuck man. I had to cut off my white-boy blonde dreads in order to walk for graduation. (My advisor spouted something about hygiene, professionalism, and threatening to report me to the dean.) College was some real bullshit if you ask me.

Cutting my hair into a more human-doctor appearance (that still hung low past my shoulders) did little to help my shitty grades and ‘lack of professional demeanor.’ Hence why I was stuck in the capital of coffee; rainy, tired, depressing as fuck- Seattle, Washington.

"Hi, Jack," said a familiar matronly voice. Lucy, the office receptionist was an elderly woman who spent the majority of her day on the internet reading corny dad jokes like, 'What greeting can you never say on an airplane?'

It wasn't funny the first time nor the hundredth, but apparently Hi-Jack is my name now. "I told you, I'm not answering to that name."

"Fine." Lucy puffed out her lip like a toddler. "Good afternoon, Dr. Miller. Is that more to your liking?"

I couldn't help but chuckle. Lucy was a sweet lady, one of the few people I'd consider a friend. "Yes, thank you, Miss Zhao."

Lucy rolled her eyes. "Well, Doctor, your patient has been waiting for over ten minutes."

"So? This is a public, general health, clinic people wait for hours." It wasn't' that I disliked seeing patients. Most people were positive, even fun. I just needed a change of pace.

Lucy sighed. "Please tell me you've taken the time to read the notes. This individual is, as they say in casinos, a whale."

“A whale?” In Washington, this probably meant some tech-geek millionaire. But I needed a little clarification. “The medical profession has multiple categories of whale; Are we talking rich or dying?”

 “I think that’s a mystery for you to solve.” Lucy smirked raising an eyebrow in a way that seemed to imply: both.

My eyes took a quick glance at the file for my two o'clock appointment. The name was 'John Doe- high priority privacy.' He was a fifty-two-year-old, white male suffering from migraine headaches and bone pain. "Well, this should be fun."

"Dr. Cho told me to remind you to be on your best behavior. No 'Florida-man' shenanigans." She added a finger wag, to drive the point home. In essence, Lucy was accusing me of being no better than the internet-famous Florida residents who made the news for doing crazy shit like robbing a bank with a live alligator (and other meth inspired adventures.)

"Of course, Ma'am. Have fun on Reddit." I opened the door to the exam room. The mystery man was sitting on the exam table, facing away from the door.

The middle-aged blond man was of average height, with a slender yet muscular build. He was, of course, wearing a blue examination gown made of little more than tissue paper, allowing me a glimpse of his broad shoulders. I also noticed the fact that he was wearing earbud headphones, with a long black wire stretching to a nearby smartphone. The patient was breathing heavily, as if in deep sleep or perhaps meditating.

Either way, my greeting was going to be cringy because I needed to speak loud enough to get his attention. "Good afternoon, Sir. I'm Dr. Miller!"

The man turned to me, red-faced, with his hands frozen in their previous endeavor. Yeah, it was pretty obvious the guy had been masturbating. Even within the awkward moment, his sea-blue eyes looked shockingly familiar. I was absolutely sure this guy was a semi-famous actor. Not an A-lister, but an aging star from some of my favorite action movies of the last decade. "Are you…shit?" I bit my tongue in frustration, the name wasn't coming to me, but I certainly had the man's attention.

His eyes were wide with a look of embarrassment, which quickly turned to a chuckle. “Am I shit? I’d certainly hope not.” His sensual lips, were framed by well-manicured facial hair, a few shades darker than the thick, slicked back, blond locks on his head. “But, seriously. I'm very sorry. That was just extremely inappropriate.”

"It's fine," I said quickly, to maintain my composure. "It's completely normal. If you'd like we can just go straight into the examination, and I can ask questions then."

He nodded, as he haphazardly put his music device on a nearby table. "Thank you for your understanding and professionalism."

“No problem.” I took out my stethoscope, pressing it to his back. “This might be a little cold.” I rubbed the round metal diaphragm between my palms. I would usually stop there but something made me want to breathe on the device. A single breath made it nice and moist, before pressing it to his back. "Take some deep breaths for me." I traced my finger along his lean muscles admiring their natural beauty.

The man took a breath, his lungs filling with air as his muscles tensed. I moved my diaphragm, checking the usual spots on his body. I would ideally ask the patient to breathe three maybe four times max but with every attempt he seemed to be struggling. “You’re doing good, just a few more.” I place my hand upon his back to see if I could feel any under lying issues. Suddenly he was coughing.

"I-I don't think I can." The muscles in his chest were in a mild state of spasm.

“Sir?” I ceased my exam, turning to face him.

The man had a noticeable look of pain plastered across his face. “I-I apologize.”

That was an answer I did not expect. "Um, ok, let's try something else," the nervousness was evident in my voice. "I'm going to need you to take off the gown and recline on your back."

His movement was slow and deliberate as he let the gown slip down his back. Putting his weight on his arm, he shifted himself to lay his body flat on the table.

"Wow." I swallowed hard. The fact that the man was still sporting an erection didn't even register. Who am I kidding? His body was a sight to behold. The word sexy didn't even begin to describe the physique laid out before me. His chest and arms were well built. Not huge like a pro-wrestler, just large enough to be able to hold his lover close. I placed a finger on his wrist. "Your pulse seems normal. I'm going to try to listen to your heart and lungs from this position." I placed one hand upon his collarbone, as I guided the stethoscope to his chest.

"I do apologize, Doctor. My lungs tend to seize up when I have panic attacks."

"Were you experiencing a panic attack?” I asked, as I listened for any abnormalities in the rhythm of his lungs. A panic attack would explain the sudden onset of tension in the otherwise healthy looking male.

The man nodded slightly, as he motioned to his leg. "Something was causing the nerve damage in my hip to flare up."

I could tell by the scars that he had broken his hip and leg in several places, although the wounds had long since healed over. "You suffer from chronic pain?" I placed a finger upon his thigh, tracing the massive scar that extended from his hip all the way to his knee.

"I got metal shit holding my leg together,” he said with an awkward laugh. “I find jerking off can help with the pain.”

“That’s…” Unbelievably fucking hot. “Not uncommon.”

"I didn't catch your name, son."

Oh, hell no, not the S-word. "I'm Dr. Jack Miller, and you are?"

The man seemed amused by my annoyance. "I think I'd like you to guess."

I looked up from my work, our eyes meeting. "You want me to guess your name?"

The man laughed, a deep belly laugh. His stomach was tight for someone his age, just muscular enough to show that he worked out regularly. The head of his cock was wet with pre-cum. I could tell it was taking every ounce of restraint for the man to not finish himself off.

I would know, because it was taking all my willpower just to keep my tongue in my mouth. "What do I win?"

His uncut cock was of above-average size. And his balls were big, just begging for a release. "If you guess my name, I'll clean myself off."

"And if I can't?"

"Then you have to suck me off, maybe let me fuck your throat a little."

I couldn't tell if he was joking, but the way his voice slipped into a Russian accent, gave me the answer I’d been searching for. "You're Vladimir 'Vlad' Kepler, the son of Russian immigrants which inspired your work in the Mafia of the legendary, Viking Kings, and the Netflix series Toronto Angels. You were born and raised in Biloxi, Mississippi. Where you learned martial arts and parkour gymnastics to start your work as a stunt man.”

My patient seemed genuinely impressed. "You can call me Val," he said with a sexy southern accent. I knew that was his real voice. I'd seen him do interviews. He would always try to maintain a neutral, California sound, but that was a role he was playing: Vlad Kepler the actor. Val, was a different man entirely

"Can I still suck you off?" Of course, I didn't ask that out loud. Instead, I asked the slightly more professional question. "Do you mind if I examine you?" My hand seemed to move on its own, guiding my fingers to slip below his balls, stroking the soft hair on his taint. I wanted so badly to finger his ass; to watch as his body quivered. Maybe he'd lean into it, and let me fist him. But this was neither the time nor the position. "Do you have any questions before I begin?"

"Just a request, son,” he said with a chuckle. “When you go to the table to put on some gloves, please hand me my headphones."

Gloves! Holy shit, I'm a fucking idiot. "And the iPhone?" I asked, trying to maintain my demeanor and our positive, doctor-patient repertoire, despite my health code violation. “Did you want it set on any particular file?”

"No, any track is fine."

I washed and dried my hands before handing him the headphones. I wanted to allow him time to get comfortable while I made a show of putting on the blue, latex-free exam gloves. "So, what were you listening to? If you don't mind me asking."

Val closed his eyes and smiled. "My wife's voice. She started a podcast a few years ago, back when we were still together. But even after we separated, I carried around the files just to hear her voice."

For the life of me, I could not remember if he was married to someone famous. "What was her podcast? Maybe I've heard of it."

"Maybe, it's called 'Jungle Julia’s Crosshairs, a grown-ass woman's guide to survival.’ It’s some real pretentious shit. Her primary audience is feminist millennials.”

“Interesting, that does sound familiar.”

“You think you’ve heard of it? She was featured on a couple of shows like The View and Good Morning America.”

I had heard of it. "You were married to Julia Con-" The words left my mouth before I had a chance to stop myself. Julia Conners was a travel blogger. From what I read on TMZ, she started out as a stay-at-home Mommy but once 'Jungle Julia' got discovered (thanks in part to her husband's connections,) she left the country and filed divorce papers from a mansion in Brazil.

"She deserves to be happy," Val said with a sigh.

"I'm sorry." I lubed my hands with a few pumps of generic hand lotion. "Um, this might be a little cold." I gripped his cock with gentle pressure. Using my thumb, I was moving his foreskin down to reveal more of the sensitive glands. And holy fuck, he was soaked with pre-cum. I moved his foreskin down further, lubing his thick vein covered shaft. His cock was clean, with well-groomed dark blond pubic hair that ended just below his navel. "I see you take good care of yourself."

Val was moaning, "Oh fuck, that feels so good." His voice was nothing more than a whisper, escaping his lips. "Please don't stop."

Was he talking to me or picturing his ex-wife? Did it matter? I tightened my grip, pumping his shaft with fast deliberate motion. It was more of a massage than a hand job, but it did the trick. The muscles of his injured leg were trembling. His hips were thrusting, actively fucking my hand.

I was in awe. Val was experiencing an orgasm like nothing I had ever seen (outside of porn.) My patient was shooting ropes of cum all over his stomach, and my glove. It seemed like the more I touched him, the more he ejaculated.

His face was truly a work of art. His nostrils flared as he struggled for breath. His mouth was open, his sensual lips agape, as he arched his neck.

I observed his muscles tense, and he ejaculated one last time. Only then did his body relax. "Let me get you some paper towels."

"Or you could clean me off yourself," he said with a sigh.

"What?" I asked innocently, only because that was the professional thing to do. Every part of me was fighting the urge to take his limp, spent, cock in my mouth, savoring every drop of his sweet, salty cum.

"Nothing." Val sat up. He leaned forward, crossing his arms over his chest. "How about you hook me up with some pain meds?"

"What are you currently on?"

Before he could answer, there was a knock at the door. "Dr. Miller?" Lucy said from behind the wood panel. "The patient's daughter is waiting in your office.

"Thank you, Lucy." I looked at Val, not wanting to be rude to the naked man on my table. "I'm going to write you a prescription for-"

Val waved dismissively. "You shouldn't keep her waiting."

I nodded and left Val to get dressed, pausing for a moment outside the door. Could this day get any weirder? I entered my office to the sight of a tall brunette supermodel. even with a lack of makeup and her hair in a messy ponytail, she looked absolutely iconic. "Kat Kepler, you're Val's daughter?" Duh, of course, she's his daughter they have the same last name!

Katerina 'Kat' Kepler, had her mother's exotic bi-racial Asian beauty with her father's blue eyes and iconic cheekbones. At just twenty years old, she'd done everything from runways to reality television. She was put on this earth to be a star. "Hello, Dr. Miller."

"Uh, hi." My heart was already going a mile a minute.

"I'm going to cut the bullshit, my father has been through hell both physically and emotionally,” she said, maintaining a professional demeanor.

"What do you know about your father's condition?"

"It's all in the file," she replied.

I nodded, giving a half smile. Yes, reading the file, that would have been the mature, adult thing to do. "I want to hear it from you."

Kat sighed as she took a seat. "My father has been having seizures for a long time. It's what grounded his movie career. I mean, his rampant drug use may have also played a part."

"He had a seizure behind the wheel of a car?"

"Yeah, he totaled his neighbor's Maserati, lost his license. My dad also broke his leg, hip, and three of his ribs. I came home to be his caretaker. It was either that or have him locked away in a rehab clinic."

"Sending your father to a rehab clinic sounds like a valid plan."

Kat glared, her eyes shooting daggers of rage as she shook her head. "My father can’t go to rehab, he can’t.” The emotion in her voice went from zero to a hundred really quick. “He'd shut down. I know there's something wrong with his lungs, maybe even his brain. He's been very sick for a long time, even before my mom left." She blinked tears from her eyes. "He just won't get help because he values his image over his life."

"I'm so sorry," I said offering her the in-room box of tissues.

"But he seemed to have a crush on you."

I forced a cough. "Um, what?"

Kat blinked tears from her eyes, which seemed to sparkle with a seductive elegance. "I came here because I know I can trust you."

I rolled my eyes at the very thought. "You trust me?” Kat was laying the drama on a little too thick. “How did you find me?"

"Instagram," she said casually. "You're the famous cam model who put himself through medical school."

She wasn't wrong. I'd discovered the lucrative world of web-cam sex, during my senior year of undergrad. I fucked men, women, sometimes just vibrators. It was a relaxing hobby that put me through school without having to rely on my father. "What do you want?"

"I know I can trust you because someone who makes porn for a living has to be good at keeping secrets."

I laughed, as I took a seat, at my desk, with Val's patient file between us. "My past work isn't exactly a secret."

"Well, I have a secret, a big thick juicy one." She leaned in, crawling over the table. "About a month ago, I caught my dad smoking weed while masturbating to your pics."

"Um, Ok," the words left my lips in a whisper. My dick was rock hard just picturing Val's stunning face.

"This was a week after he tried to drink himself to death."

As a medical professional, that piece of information should have been enough to calm my erection. But all I could think about was Val sipping a bottle of scotch, as the gold liquid dripped down his lips to his chin. "I apologize, Miss Kepler, but this is too surreal. I don't feel comfortable taking your father on as a patient."

“Well, ok, I guess.” Kat nodded, shrugging her shoulders dismissively as if she’d come in expecting such an answer. She sighed looking truly defeated.

“I’m really sorry.”

"How about a lover?" She asked in a tone similar to ordering a pizza.

"I, um what?" I was tempted to look around for hidden cameras.

Kat got up, and walked to my chair, straddling my lap like a stripper. "I know you hate it in Seattle. You bitch about it in your twitter feed all the time.”

That was true. “You follow me on Twitter?”

“Yes, I’m quite the fan,” she said with a smirk. “Come stay with us in California. My dad and I, we have a cabin up in Napa, really secluded.”

I was honestly tempted; a trip to the Wine country estate of my idol sounded like a dream come true. “I have a lot of crap on my plate at the moment.”

Kat pouted. “Holiday for one month, just to see what happens.” She pressed her lips to my ear. "You will be paid handsomely."

"I just don't know if I'm the right person to give your father the care he needs."

"I think you are." Kat reached down, touching the bulge in my pants. "I've seen some of your cam work; you go both ways. Are you always up for anything?"

It was only then I noticed what she was wearing; a long maxi dress with a slit up the side, and absolutely no underwear. I could practically feel her juices soaking through to my cock.

"Who would you rather fuck, right here, right now? Me?" she reached for my belt freeing my erection. "Or my daddy?"

“Are you serious?” This was either a dream or a hidden camera porn shoot.

“Very serious.” She pressed her forehead to mine, forcing eye contact as our lips met. "Or maybe you’d like both of us? I’m not as powerful as Daddy but I have some tricks up my sleeve." She put her arms around me, fully intending to fuck in my chair.

Before I could reply, I felt Kat lower her pussy on to me, riding my dick. Her dress covered her legs, and the way she moved her hips was subtle enough to not look overtly sexual. But even still: having her on my lap was not a good look.

"Please, Miss Kepler. We can't do this. I could lose my medical license." In my mind, I was serious, but my hands were not making any effort to remove her.

Kat looked at me with disappointment in her eyes. She used my dick, fucking herself to climax before getting off my lap. As she adjusted her skirt, the supermodel-megastar handed me my in-room tissue box. “Here, clean yourself up.”

“Um, thanks,” I muttered, too nervous to even move.

Kat leaned against the door. "He lets you call him Val." She pursed her lips, as tears swelled in her eyes. "The last person to call him Val was my mother."

Her words cut me to the core but I had to maintain my professionalism. “I have your contact info; I'll give your offer some thought, I promise."

Kat nodded. "That's all I ask."

As she opened the door, Val was waiting in the hallway, leaning on a cane. "Thanks for everything, Doc. I hope to see you soon."

I waved goodbye and watched as she walked her father down the hall, back to the waiting room. Val walked slowly, with a noticeable limp.

I knew what I had to do. Since it was already afternoon, I took the rest of the day off. I headed home, to my studio apartment, to fully read through the file. What I found broke my heart worse than anything. (Actually, that was not completely true. There was one previous event in my life that induced such intense pain; the death of my mother.) Something about Val, his energy, creativity, spirit, or maybe his relationship with Kat; he reminded me of my mother.

I knew what I had to do; with a heavy heart, I picked up my phone and made the call. Kat answered on the first ring. "Dr. Miller?" It was clear by her broken tone, the girl had been crying, but was trying her best to put on her red-carpet interview voice. “I’m so honored you called. I don’t even know your final decision, but I want to thank you for not blowing off my family.”

“No problem, the pleasure’s all mine.” As it was in my office, this afternoon. “And please, you can call me Jack."

"Hi, Jack." There was a noticeable pause, followed by a sweet child-like giggle. "Sorry, my mind went to that really old comic when the main character gets on a plane and shouts hello to someone named Jack, and then wonders why the airport police get called."

I started to laugh with her. This was the right decision. "I will agree on one condition. Val needs to start chemo. With that in mind, I'd be willing to administer treatment at the house, along with palliative care."

"Sounds good,” she replied quickly. I could practically hear her smile.

"Do you need to run the idea by your father?" I asked. Chemo was a big decision, not one that could be decided by someone who was not the patient.

"I can put him on the phone right now. But even if he hates the idea, I know he wants to see you." She shouted intelligible words over her shoulder.

Val was in the room. He sounded like he'd been asleep. "Is that Dr. Miller?"

"Yes, Daddy," Kat said as she handed over the phone. “It’s good news!”

"Hi," Val sounded genuinely nervous. "I assume she told you everything."

"Um, yeah." There was an awkward silence. "I'm actually kind of flattered. I don't get to meet many people who've seen my work."

Val chuckled, as his voice started to break. "I've been going through some tough times. Kat, she, just wanted to do something for me."

"She says you have issues with doctors?"

"I have issues with secrets," he replied. "As you can see, by my file, I've been to more than my share of doctors."

"Are you still in Seattle?"

"Yes, my daughter and I are headed back to Napa in the morning. Don't worry I'll give your clinic a good review."

You never planned on seeking treatment in Seattle. Facing Dr. Cho tomorrow would be more than a little awkward. "I appreciate that."

More silence. One of us had to gather the courage, to ask for what we both wanted. And of course, Val was the brave one. "So, how soon can you come to Napa?"

An involuntary smile spread across my face. “As soon as you need me.”

"I do need you," Val muttered, his voice went quiet. "I-I can pay for your ticket."

"That won't be necessary.” I had money and even if I didn’t my mind was set; I was going to Napa, end of story. “I'm going to work on getting my affairs in order and I'll email Kat with my travel details." I could hear Val's breath as he pondered his next words. "Val?"

"Thank you.” With a beep Val Kepler hung up on me.

“Ok, cool. This is going to work.” My next call would be to Lucy. She could pass along the message to Dr. Cho and my landlord. Given the late hour, my communication ended up being nothing more than a voice mail. No big deal. This skater boy would be on the next flight to Cali.

According to Expedia, the next flight that I actually had a chance at getting on (because I, unfortunately, can't teleport) would leave at six am the next morning.

I texted Kat my flight info, in hopes that she would reply with an address to the mysterious Napa home I would be staying at. When I landed, I assumed I could have to get an uber or a cab. And now to get some sleep.

The next day I took a cab to the airport before sunrise. I was grateful for the early flight as it gave me plenty of time to grab a coffee and check my phone. I had three messages. The first was from Lucy. She'd passed along my resignation to Dr. Cho, who of course wished me the best of luck in my new endeavor.

The second was from Kat. She sent the California address, as well as a grateful thanks for my willingness to uproot my life so quickly.

The third was from my father. And we’re just going to hit the delete button.

It was a short flight, allowing me to get a small amount of shut-eye. I had a carry-on bag with my important documents, money, and toiletries. This was to make my trip easier, but also because I never owned a lot of 'stuff.' I didn't even own a computer, instead opting for a cloud server and unlimited data.

I picked up an overpriced pack of cigarettes and a lighter, from a nearby in-airport shop. I figured I needed a smoke more then I needed coffee or breakfast. I was headed to the sliding doors, that was when I noticed the cameras. I could hear the clicking, the sound of flashes, followed by noticeable shouting.

I turned down the hall, to the pick-up area where cabs and limos waited for people who made actual reservations. I could hear random paparazzi were asking someone questions; 'Who are you here to pick up?', 'Has your wife returned from Brazil?' 'Vlad, why did you go to Seattle?' There was no reply.

"Val?" As I walked towards the sound of camera flashes. I could hear the distinct thump of Val standing up, putting his weight on his cane.

"Hi, Jack," he said with a giggle.

I smiled as I approached him. "That joke is never not funny." I placed my hand upon his arm, stroking the smooth surface of his calfskin leather jacket. The sensual fabric was the color of coffee with cream. It was actually making me a little hungry, just not for breakfast.

Val reached for my face, cupping my cheek with his rough fingers as our eyes locked. "My daughter is waiting in the car."

"Then, I guess, we shouldn't keep her waiting," I jokingly replied, lost in the majestic beauty of his eyes.

That was when Val kissed me, deep and slow, his mouth caressing mine in an act more intimate than any sexual position. I cupped his face, returning the affection. His lips and tongue tasted like cigarettes, and sweet caramel coffee. It was a strange combination, blending with his saliva and sweat, it was truly the taste of ecstasy.

I could hear cameras clicking, the flashes blinding my eyes. I held the kiss for what felt like hours. By the time we released each other, I was gasping for breath. Val's arms were around me, holding me close.

I could feel tears welling up in my eyes.

"You okay, Dr. Jack?"

I blinked, letting the moisture flow down my cheeks. I knew I must have looked ridiculous, like a starstruck fanboy. But I didn't want to leave his embrace. "I'm good, I'm really good." It was at that moment I knew; this was where I belonged.