A gay story: A Boy Who Came In from the Cold Ch. 08 PART EIGHT: CLOSE TO THE EDGE
“Ahhh, I’m getting very close to the end now. I can feel it in my water. I reckon another couple of chapters will sew this story up. Anyway, in Chapter Eight Rayne gets to be the top for once. Thank you to everyone who has been so patient and stuck with this rambling epic, & especially for your lovely feedback. This is for you.” *kiss* Sadie
***AS EVER… IF THIS TALE FROM LITEROTICA SHOULD ROAM, GIVE THE HOST A SPANKING AND E-MAIL ME AT HOME. YEP, IT’S BEEN NICKED!!! NAUGHTY NAUGHTY!!***
AN INTIMATE ARRANGEMENT:
Doctor Mahmoudi lived in a spacious bungalow in the Port Venus complex, located behind the town of Ambonne. It was a short walk from their boat, and Ant and Daniel accompanied Rayne as he went for his early morning check-up. Dr. Mahmoudi was an Algerian expatriate who appeared to be between the ages of forty-five and sixty. He had a serene expression and deep, dark, contemplative eyes. His thick head of steel-colored hair was topped off with a thin, pointed mustache in the same shade of grey.
Like many of the residents in the Cap, he was dressed only in flip flops and a yin/yang pendant on a long, white cord around his neck. He greeted them with a wide, friendly smile and invited them to make themselves at home in his lounge. After introducing Rayne, Daniel reminded the doctor of the reason for their visit. The doctor nodded in understanding before pouring brandy for the two older men. Then, with a gesture, he guided Rayne into a back room of the house. Rayne cast a quick, anxious glance back at Ant before allowing himself to be led away.
There was a desk in the adjoining room with a laptop computer on it, set against the far wall. To the left was another larger desk set out with a blotter and various stationary holders. A broad, leather chair sat behind it. There were photographs in wooden frames scattered about on the surface. Against the right hand wall stood a narrow examination table with a colourful, vinyl-covered mattress under a sheet of disposable gauze. As Rayne followed him into the room, the doctor turned to his left and retrieved several items from cabinets in the wall adjacent to the doorway.
“You know why you are here?” he asked solemnly as he turned to face his patient. He spoke good, clear English with only a trace of a French accent, having been educated at Eton and Cambridge.
The boy nodded his head just the once. He looked pale and tired, Doctor Mahmoudi thought but many of Daniel’s boys were overworked and under nourished A lot of them were runaways. He did not see many addicts; Leland did not like drug addicts. He had dated one once, to his cost. Doctor Mahmoudi privately agreed, they were unpredictable and could be a serious liability in Daniel’s line of business but this boy had all the hallmarks of a junky. There were scars and track-marks on his arms, some old, some less so. He was skinny and nervous and from the shadows beneath his pale eyes and the pin-prick pupils he did not sleep well, nor did he trust his current doctor.
“Sit,” Mahmoudi instructed, indicating the examining table. The patient hopped onto the edge of the mattress and swung his thin, sunburned legs nervously. There were bars of fresh heat across his flesh. He had taken too much sun, too quickly and with too little protection. “You know why you are here, Rayne?”
“Dan wants me to have a check up,” the boy said quietly.
“Right.” Mahmoudi nodded his head. “Were you regularly examined in England?”
“No,” the boy almost whispered, bending his head.
“You were a rent boy in London, yes?”
“Uh-huh,” Rayne inclined his head just the once.
“For how long?”
“About… two years.” His voice was soft; reluctant.
“And before that?” Mahmoudi waited. His patient looked up at him with a little frown.
“I was at school.
“How old are you, Rayne?”
“I’m twenty,” the boy looked at him almost defiantly but Mahmoudi just scribbled this down on the pad next to his computer.
“You had no sex with men before you came to London?”
Rayne chewed on his lower lip and looked down again. He said nothing.
“You were not a virgin when you began to sell your body?” Mahmoudi persisted.
A long silence followed the question. Just as he was about to try another tack the boy muttered; “No.”
Now the Doctor pulled on a pair of latex gloves. He came back with a metal tray and a set of implements that made the young man on his examining table look at him anxiously.
“I am not going to hurt you, Rayne. I just want to take a good look at you. I will look inside your mouth and throat, in your ears and your nose. I will need to examine your penis and testicles for cancer and sexually transmitted disease. I will also need to examine your anus and for this purpose I will need to insert a speculum into your rectum in order to look at your insides. I will use lubrication and I will be as gentle as I can. Do you understand and consent to this?”
The boy blinked at him, wide eyes shuttered briefly by translucent lids. He had the longest eyelashes Mahmoudi had ever seen on a male patient. He felt himself begin to get aroused and turned away, selecting a tube of lubricant and a spatula from the tray.
“Are you willing to let me examine you internally?” he asked, couching the request in different words as he returned to his client.
“I…” Rayne swallowed. “I suppose so.”
“Open your mouth,” Mahmoudi instructed and he did so.
He had good teeth, small and white, in reasonable condition. His gums were pale but otherwise healthy. There was no flecking, no indication of candidiasis in his mouth or on his tongue. His skin was a little bit dry but very soft and smooth, his scalp and hair likewise. He was quite badly sunburnt across his nose and forehead and lower down on his shoulders and back.
“Lie down,” Mahmoudi instructed and he obeyed at once, wriggling down onto his back on the mattress.
The doctor examined his navel and his hands moved slowly between the boy’s legs, lifting his penis and smoothing back the foreskin, stroking and squeezing his shaft then cupping and holding his testicles. He took his time on this, pausing to apply a little squirt of gel to his palm then feeling the young man’s balls and stroking his cock again, more firmly.
Rayne moaned quietly, his pale eyes closed. Those long lashes splashed across his cheeks as if they had been painted there.
“You are very beautiful,” Mahmoudi told him huskily. “Lift your knees for me and open your legs.”
Rayne did as he was told. The doctor ran a gloved finger between his cheeks and probed his anus. As he pushed the slippery tip of his finger up the boy’s arse he felt a little wetness inside.
“You have given yourself an enema this morning?” he asked, working his finger deeper. The boy felt smooth and wet inside but not as tight as he might have expected.
“Yeah,” the boy groaned softly. He squirmed against the intrusive digit in his passage, eyes still closed.
“When did you last have rectal intercourse?” Doctor Mahmoudi removed his finger and removed the gloves. He washed his hands and donned a fresh pair then applied lubricant to the gleaming chrome speculum on the tray.