Date: Tue, 24 Jun 2003 03:39:07 -0400
From: Noni Y. Mouse <nonimouse440@hotmail.com>
Subject: Kiss of Life Chapter Four

Thanks for the lovely emails I've been getting. They've all really been a
wonderful inspiration to me, and I thank you all because you give me the
strength to keep on writing. Here's Chapter Four, and I hope you enjoy.
Chapter Five will be on its way soon. Please feel free to send me some
feedback NoniMouse440@hotmail.com , and let me know what you think of how
it's going. This work is MY creative property, so no one had better copy it.
Go get your own! If you're not allowed to view this kind of material in your
state, I think that you should try to change the legislation. Thanks much-
                                       NM


Chapter 4:

The room lay swathed in quietness for a long time. Neither man spoke, each
holding counsel with his own thoughts. Mike, weary but feeling triumphant,
sat, still holding the doctor's hand, although he lay with his back rested
against the bed. The doctor, shocked and ruminating, sat wondering what he
could do to help. He knew that he could prescribe medications for Mike that,
although wouldn't make his problems go away, would help them to occur less
and less frequently. He knew that he could direct Mike to a number of
support groups and professional psychiatrists. He knew that he could tell
Mike that it'd be ok- that millions of people live with his disease, and are
fine... but he also knew that none of it would work. Mike had to accept
himself and accept his situation before he could move on to get help to get
over it. And to get Mike to that point... he had no idea how to get Mike
started on that path. And so he sat, thinking, how brave... how strong...
and how sad of a person Mike truly was.
	A nurse came running by the room, paused, turned back and ran right up to
the bed, grabbing the doctor by the shoulder.
	"We've got an emergency, Dr. Robbins, and we need you right away!" she
panted. She pulled a very sluggish Dr. Robbins out of the room, and down the
hall, and Mike was left alone on the bed feeling cold and alone after his
heated outburst. He wasn't sure what had happened... the need for his story
to be birthed had been so overwhelming. And now that it was out... what not?
What now? That question raced back and forth in his mind as he drifted off
to a dreamless sleep, black and comforting, wrapping him in shadow.
	Mike woke later that evening to find that the Doctor was sitting in a chair
at the end of the bed, looking intently at him. He couldn't read the look in
the doctor's eyes, for the room was dark. The only light came from the glow
of the monitoring machines humming and beeping beside his chest. Mike didn't
say anything- never moved, waiting for the doctor so speak first. He felt a
strange calm descend over him, and if Mike had never believed in God, he
knew that this was one of the times when he felt connected. Warm strength
flowed through his chest, and he felt as if he were being gently caressed-
not in a sexual way, but in a very parental sense... maybe it was still the
rush of blood to the head having a weird effect on his body, but he would
take what he could get, and interpret it any way he could to help him
through.
	"Mike... I..." the doctor began, and stopped. He had his elbows resting on
his knees, his hands laced under his chin, leaning forward. He now sat back,
leaning in the chair, his glasses suddenly off in one hand, leaning over the
side of the arm of the chair, the other rubbing his sore eyes. It had been a
long day for Doctor Robbins, but he'd known that there'd be days like this
one when he signed up for the job. Somewhere inside he realized he craved
the punishment- it was such a rewarding task to punish oneself for, he'd
decided a long time ago. He took a deep breath, sat up, and looked intently
into Mike's eyes.
	"Mike. You've told me a lot of things. Things that I know were important
for you to say. I need to know right now. How are you feeling? I'm obligated
to send for the staff psychiatrist- its policy when we hear a patient
talking about contemplating suicide. But Mike... if it's any consolation to
you... I'd appreciate it if you could hang on long enough to see what we
have to offer." Dr. Robbins paused, leaned forward again, paused, and then
stood up. He walked over to the bed, and sat down next to the man laying
there. The doctor paused again, before picking up the hand that lay atop the
sheets, and then continued.
	"You may not see it right now, but you're a very courageous person. Having
held onto all that for your life... having been strong enough to last until
now. It's never easy dealing with sexual abuse- especially sexual abuse that
has lasting physical and psychological reminders. People who have been
through your kind of experience can feel isolated from family, friends...
isolated from life, and everything that you've said so far leads me to
believe that this is what you've been going through. I can't make you value
your own life, Mike. I can only attempt to save it. That's my mission both
at this job and in my life. I want you to know that you are the one that has
to want to be here. I can't want to be here for you. Do you understand what
I'm saying Mike? I can pass along to you information- resources, counseling,
whatever. I might even have a single gay friend or two to throw your way."
He smiled at Mike, who blushed, and looked down.
	"In the end though, you need to want to be here. It wont work unless you
want it to," he said softly, and then continued, "I'm going to send for the
psychiatrist now. She's going to want to talk to you for a few; give you an
evaluation. We'd like to keep you overnight once again, and then tomorrow,
if things are ok, you can go home in the evening. How does that sound?" Mike
nodded, a tear slipping out of his eyes and darkening his stark white linen.
	"OH! Also, the police will be by tomorrow to take a report on what happened
at your apartment. They'll be here in the morning, so we'll have u up and
ready by the time they come. How does that sound?" Mike nodded again. He and
the doctor sat in quietness for a few moments, and then the doctor sighed,
squeezed Mike's hand, and then got up to leave. Mike gripped the doctor's
hand in his own, pulling the doctor's attention back down to the bed. Mike
looked up, into the doctor's eyes.
	"Thank you. For... being there... and for still being here after you found
out," and it was Mike this time who squeezed the doctor's hand. As their
hands released, the doctor smiled down at Mike, bent over and kissed his
forehead. He paused, his eyes wide opened, startled at what he'd done. He
pulled himself back up, and blushed furiously.
	"Uhm... you see, it's just that I used to kiss my kids on the forehead when
I tucked them in to bed every night. It felt like that kind of moment... I
hope that I haven't offended you in any way!" The doctor backed away, and
then paused as Mike broke into laughter.
	"It's ok Dr. Robbins! Thanks. I appreciate this more than you understand."
The doctor smiled, waved, and then left the room. This gave Mike a chance to
wonder just how old the doctor really was. He'd guessed that the doctor was
in his early 40's, but apparently, the man was much older than that. He lay
back against the sheets, thinking. He'd opened up, spilled himself clean,
and hadn't been abandoned. In fact, he'd been embraced- quite literally. Dr.
Robbins had treated him like he would his own kid- kissing him on the
forehead. Perhaps it wasn't much to read into, but Mike would interpret
things as would best benefit him at that point. And what of Chris? Mike felt
himself getting sleepy again, and decided that he'd deal with Chris when the
time came. Telling him had to feel natural- had to feel right... if he ever
got to a point where he would have to tell Chris to begin with.
	Sleep came easily, and dreamless enough. He woke to the sunlight streaming
into his window, lighting up his face. He felt rested- better rest than he'd
ever gotten in years, in fact. And he found he could breathe so much easier.
A nurse walked to the door and knocked while entering the room.
	"Mr. Dana how are you? My name is Nurse Briggs, and we're gonna get you all
cleaned up before those two detective men get here to interview you." The
interview- that's right; that was today. He allowed the nurse to help him
ease out of the bed, and then trudge over to the bathroom. However, once she
went to help him undress to bathe, he resisted.
	"I can do this myself!!" he whined, clutching his open-backed robe tightly
around himself, "I don't need your help! I'm fine! Really!" The nurse stood
back, shaking her head.
	"Michael stop it. It's just a penis, for crying out loud! I'm a nurse! I've
seen hundreds, if not thousands of them! Give it a rest and let me do my
job!" She folded her arms across her breasts, and looked at him. Mike gave
up- his arms dropped to his sides, and he allowed Nurse Briggs to step
forward and slip the robe down his dangling arms. Suddenly, an alarm rang
out in the hall. Both Nurse Briggs and Mike jumped at the sound of it. She
turned to Mike, her face flushed wide-eyed. She didn't even need to speak,
as Mike nodded, and she ran out the door. Whatever it was, it definitely
sounded like an emergency. He turned back to the tub, and began to fill it
with warm water.
	He remembered to bend at the knees, instead of bending over at the waist.
The LAST thing he needed was for the doctor or nurse to return to the room
to find him having drown face down, butt up to the ceiling, in a tub
overflowing with warm water.
	Mike closed the door, turned away from it, and then stopped. A draft of
cool air blew across his hanging cock, and it twitched with the sensation.
He moaned, as his cock continued to pulse, throbbing and growing hotter and
hotter in relation to the cool air. He needed some privacy- a moment alone.
He realized that he was so tense- so nervous- so frustrated and so scared-
and he needed to relax a little. He needed to ease some tension, and as his
eyes trailed down his body, he knew what he needed to do. Mike reached back
with one hand, and locked the door, never taking his eyes off of his rock
hard, red throbbing cock.
	The sound of the running water dimmed to a dull roar, heard as if it were
far away. All Mike could hear was his breathing, as his hand reached up to
his shoulder, slipped down to his nipple, tweaked it, and then kept sliding
down his body until it reached his soft, curly pubes. His hand kept
traveling, lightly up the length of his meaty, musty smelling cock, and
finally gripped it right behind the flared head. As his hand closed over his
dick, Mike groaned, and his tool surged with a fire of urgency. He had to
release himself; he had to. He began the stroke, firmly rubbing the
underside of his cock-head, lathering the precum that dribbled freely out of
his cock lips. He began to slowly pump his hips, forcing his cock through
his clenched, and rapidly slickening fist, fucking his hand while standing
and moaning with his head thrown back. His hips began to pump faster, and
his panting grew harsher. His thighs began to quiver, and the sensations
running down his cock tube were concentrating at the spot right beneath his
nut sack. He could feel it happening- the almost pain-pleasure of his
impending orgasm. The rush at the base of his cock, his breath catching in
his throat- he could feel his dick plumping up in his fist, and he thrust
forward, and with a cry, ejaculated a stream of cum that flew across the
room and splattered onto the wall above the tub. Four more streams followed,
each shooting out a distance and sailing to the floor in a graceful arc of
white motion. His fist was wrapped tightly around the base of his cock,
trapping his jerking hips from too much forward movement.
	A banging on the door snapped him back to reality, as loud voices called
through from the other side.
	"Mr. Dana! Are you all right in there? Mr. Dana! We heard groaning- are you
ok? There's water coming in under the door! Mr. Dana!" and then quietly, as
if to the side, "Let's bust it open- he may be hurt." And before he could
answer, before his brain could even register his feet standing in cold
water, the door banged once, very loudly, and then splintered and fell in.
The broken door slammed against the wall, and there were two men dressed in
gray suits, standing in the doorway. They were tall- at least 6'4" each, and
decently weighted. One was blond and the other had brown hair, and each had
a worried expression on their faces, which quickly turned to confusion and
then disbelief, and finally, embarrassment. Mike stood there, mouth open,
sheet white, and unsure of exactly how to move his frozen hand away from his
rapidly deflating, but still dribbling, cock.