Date: Sun, 3 Jun 2012 04:38:13 -0700 (PDT)
From: taarob <taarob@yahoo.com>
Subject: The Good Doctor II Part 3

This is a work of fiction. I love getting email, so if you would like to
contact me you can at taarob@yahoo.com, or if you'd like to see some other
things that I've written you can go to my web site at www.mygaystories.com


From the previous chapter:

"So anyway, I look ahead of me and can tell immediately that this isn't
good, but it's not like there's a good alternative.  I could have turned
around and ran for it, but that would have just been the beginning.  So I
just figured, 'Fuck it!' whatever happens, happens and when Jessie tried to
shove me, I jumped up, grabbed his fucking ears as hard as I could and bit
his chin as hard as could.  He went fucking insane, screaming and crying
and trying to get the fuck away from me, but I just hung onto his ears and
bit the shit outta any part of him that I could get at.  He was trying to
hit me and knock me off and finally he did.  Then he just started to run.
It's weird though, cause the next year we became friends and when I asked
him about what caused all that he said he didn't have a clue.  He just came
to school one day feeling like he needed to be an asshole, but when I went
apeshit on him he figured I was crazy and he didn't want any part of that.
But the thing was that all those guys who liked to pick on other guys, they
got outta my way like I had the plague or something."

I could feel Pete's breathing beginning to settle back down.

"So anyway, that's why I told Jase that.  Sometimes having people not
really knowing what the fuck you'll do can be a good thing."





                                    The Good Doctor Part II Chapter 3

My mother carried in two large shopping bags and set them down in the
laundry room with a clanking of dishware and a grunt.  She looked at me
sitting at the kitchen table drinking a beer, rolled her eyes, then slowly
shook her head.

Naturally I said, rather defensively, "What?"  Not that I necessarily felt
defensive, but with my mother you can't show any weakness or you're dead
meat.  Not that I really stood a chance anyway, but it's fun to pretend.

She nodded toward the door to the garage from whence, as they say, she
came.  "I got more in the car."  For the moment I regarded that as being
for informational purposes only.  In fact, I had just stacked up five
potato chips, crammed then in my mouth, and in my right hand held an icy
cold dill pickle waiting to be crammed in next.  But I'm an educated adult,
and I'm not oblivious to the needs of others, so while chewing as fast as
possible, I said, "Wah, ju nee hep?"

She smiled grimly, shook her head, and waving a hand at me she said, "No,
Eric, what's a heart attack from carrying your food into your house?"

I pushed the pickle back into the jar in resignation, swallowed hard and
said, "Okay, okay, I'm coming."

I edged carefully past her on the way out of the house, but she still
managed to clip me on the back of my head with her hand and said in a way
that only Italian mothers can, "What, I gotta tell you about manners?"
Actually, she didn't have to tell me about manners, but sometimes when I
know she wants me to do something, something inside of me just decides to
take the long way around, even though, maybe even especially because I know
it's gonna irritate her.

The second seat in her SUV was turned down and it was loaded with shopping
bags.  I said, "Is this all for us?"  It sure seemed like a lot.

She pointed at the two closest bags.  "Just those two, the rest are for
your cousin Ari."

"His wife still locked up?"

She nodded yes and said, "Hopefully forever.  I suppose she's a wonderful
person, but Ari brings out the worst in her."  When Irish girls marry
Italian men, bad things can happen.  Although, my second cousin Ari could
drive anyone insane.  After his wife Carol caught him cheating on her for
like the fifth time, she went after him with a ten inch Chef's knife?again.
Not that Ari would have ever called the cops, I mean, he is Italian, but
the neighbors saw her chasing him through the neighborhood and since it
wasn't the first time, or, for that matter the second time, they called the
cops.

I had just picked up the two grocery bags when my mother said, "Oh, by the
way, keep the last Friday of the month open.  You're taking me to dinner."
She pointed her finger at me.  "And make sure you got a nice suit, maybe
that blue one, the nice one."  Oh God!  What the hell is this all about?  I
hate dressing up!

"Why?  Wait?it's not your birthday?is it?"

She stared at me for a moment, sighed, then slowly shook her head.  "Eric,
my birthday was two months ago.  Don't you remember the cake you had for me
- that I baked?  Rose invited me to a fundraiser for some guy she knows
that's running for office.  It's a political thing."

"You mean Chester Johnson?"

She said, "I guess.  She called him Chet."

"He's Lurch's replacement."

"Eric, don't call him Lurch!"

"They're an item."  That was as delicately as I could put it.

"Rose is a wonderful woman and she deserves someone nice."

"I've got a feeling that he's like some kinda Nazi."

"Eric!  Rose would not go out with a Nazi!  But she is conservative, well,
about some things, so he's probably that."

"I can bring Pete, right?"  Pete is like my shield from the people that
normally go to things like this.

"Of course!  I already called him?it's all set.  Although, I didn't really
get much of a chance to talk to him so you might wanna warn him that
they'll probably hit him up for a donation."

"They're not gonna try and get money outta me, are they?"

She smiled.  "Don't worry about it.  I'm sure Rose knows better than that."
Let's hope so.  I wonder if he's bangin' her?  Don't think about it, don't
think about it, don't think about it!

Then, for no apparent reason, but something that was sooo typically my
mother, she suddenly looked hard at me up and down.  Then she gave me that
evil-eye Italian mother look and said, "Are you wearing underwear?"

"Huh?"  That sounds like a question a mother should never ask her adult
son, but for some mothers no rules apply.

She glared at me.  "Underwear!  I know it's the latest thing that you young
guys don't wear underwear, but?"

"Ma!"  She suddenly had me close to stuttering, this had to be nipped in
the bud.  "What makes you think I don't wear underwear?"  Okay, so maybe my
voice sounded a little strained when I said that, but frankly, I was just
hoping she didn't decide to check.  Mothers know exactly how to turn you
back into a little boy.  And besides, normally I do wear underwear, mostly.
And what business is it of hers anyway?

She waved her hand dismissively.  "It's just that when I visited Carol in
jail she mentioned that Ari didn't wear underwear."  She slammed the car
door and then shook her finger at me.  "That's probably why he's always in
trouble."  Honestly, where do women get these notions?  And why the hell
would Carol say that to my mother?  Not that I doubted for a minute that it
was true, and it's exactly the sort of thing my mother would blame for all
the evil in the world.

"Carol's crazy!"  Now I'm forced to defend my halfwit cousin.  "Ari wears
underwear!  The last time I saw him his pants were hanging half way down
his butt and you could see his underwear."  This was half of a lie.  Ari's
pants were hanging halfway down his butt, but there was no underwear.  It's
the kind of thing I notice.

My mother went around the car, started to get in, and naturally, she had
totally dismissed what I had just told her.  "Well, your father would never
leave the house without underwear!"  That's probably true.

Then in an attempt to throw her off balance, "What about Grandpa?  I bet he
would have."

She glared at me and snapped, "Don't start with your grandpa!"

At that moment, Jase came galloping around the side of the garage yelling,
"Hi, Gramma!  I was playing BASEBALL!"  His face was flushed from running,
his hair was messed up and he had mud on his pants, actually a lot of mud.

She opened the car door and hugged him.  I could see the battle going on in
her head between getting mad about the dirty pants and her built in desire
to forgive Jase anything.  I knew from practical experience that this
natural inclination to forgive had an expiration date of approximately
puberty.

"That's wonderful, Sweetheart!  Did you do good?"

"I hit the ball!  And I got to second base!"  He pulled up the bottom of
his tee shirt and wiped his face, leaving one more dark smear on the shirt.
My mother winced, but said nothing.  "But they tagged me when I was runnin
for third base.  But that's okay, right, Dad?  I mean I got pretty far."

I'm not the smartest guy on earth, but I knew where this was headed.  It
may be a couple of years away, but puberty had its evil eyes above the
windowsill and was eyeing the room.  It was baseball today and, as sure as
God made little green apples, it would be sex tomorrow.  In my mind I
sighed, but said nothing about it.

Since Jase hadn't yet developed the instincts he'd need to protect himself
in situations like this, I draped my arms over his shoulders, pulled him
back against me and said, "Grandma's gotta go, Jase, and we gotta get you
cleaned up."

After my mother left, I led Jase into the laundry room and had him kick off
his sneakers, which had even more mud on them then his pants.  I turned on
the washing machine, added detergent and, with a hope that Maytag had come
up with a way to handle mud, tossed his shoes in.

"Toss your pants in there, too."

Jase stripped down to his white Hanes little boy briefs and handed me his
dirty pants and shirt.

I said, "You know, a bath wouldn't be the worst thing."

"Dad, I wanna watch TV.  I'll take my bath later."

"Okay, but wait a minute."  I turned on the washing machine.

"C'mon over to the sink."  I pulled Jase over to the kitchen sink and
cleaned up his hands and face with a wet dishtowel.  He blinked as I wiped
his face and stared up at me with his green eyes.

"This isn't instead of a bath, but in addition to a bath."

"I know.  Can I eat my salad while I watch television?"  I knew without
looking that our salads would be in the frig.  There was wine on the
counter along with a huge round loaf of bread.  My mother had already
started to slice it because she knew I'd screw it up.  In the two grocery
bags I had brought in I knew that most of those things would be cold and
packed for freezing, but that one of them would be hot and ready to eat
now.  My mother takes meals very seriously and I could smell something warm
and tomatoee with a hint of Parmesan.

"Okay, but try not to spill anything."  I pushed his hair off his forehead.
"You like baseball?"

He nodded fast.  "Yeah."  I kissed his forehead.

Just then I heard Pete's car pulling into the garage and despite the garage
door being open so that anyone could see, Jase went tearing out to meet him
with bare feet and in just his underwear, yelling, "Pete, I played
baseballlllll!"  My mother would have had a heart attack.

Moments later, Pete stepped in from the garage with Jase in his arms.  Jase
had his legs wrapped around Pete's waist and was holding his face with both
hands so that he couldn't look away and talking a mile a minute about his
game and, if possible, Pete was enjoying it more than Jase.  His smile was
about a mile wide, his deep blue eyes were dancing, and his attention was
focused on every word coming out of Jase's mouth.  His paternal instincts
looked like they were practically boiling over and it occurred to me that
in some parts of this parenting business Pete was gonna be a better dad
than I was.  Pete was organized and even though he's like the busiest guy
on the planet, I could see him coaching Little League games and going to
all the school plays.

It took Pete about ten minutes to get Jase wound down and set up in front
of the TV and then get his own clothes changed into an oversized sweatshirt
with a "Support your local NPR Station" logo and faded jeans.  He slid
behind me while I was getting our salads out and whispered, "I bet you
can't guess who my new patient is?"

I leaned my head back against his chest. "Aren't you supposed to keep that
secret?"

He laughed.  "Well, since my whole staff has seen him plus everyone in the
waiting room, I don't think it'll be an issue.  C'mon, guess."

The first name that popped into my head was Lurch's replacement.
"Chester?"

He said, "You mean Rose's friend?  Nope."

"Then I have no idea."

"Mark."

"Mark?  Mark as in David's dad Mark?"

"That very one."

"Has he got a big dick?"

Pete laughed.  "Eric, you'd be surprised at how seldom I look at a
patient's dick on the first appointment."

I grinned and turned in his arms.  "It'd be the first thing I'd want to
know."

He laughed.  "Boy, that's a surprise!"

I touched his chest with my forehead, laughed and moaned, "I can't help it,
I have needs, and one of them is cock!"

"Well, just stop thinking about Mark's dick.  I got all the dick you're
ever gonna need.  Besides, he's kinda family."

"Believe me, I don't actually think about his dick."

"Well anyway, he's looking for a boyfriend."

"You guys talked about stuff like that?"

"Well, you know that guy he was seeing?  That didn't work out.  And now
he's looking again.  Anyway, he wanted to know if we knew of anyone."  Pete
poured us each a glass of wine.  "Normally, well, probably normally, I
wouldn't talk about that with a new patient, but we know Mark well enough
that it got discussed."

"So what's wrong with him?  How come he came to see you?"

He laughed and said, "Now that I can't tell you."

"Awe, c'mon!"  I mean what's the point of having a doctor for a husband if
he's not gonna tell you all this shit?"

"Don't bug me, Eric, I'm not telling you, but I can tell you it wasn't
anything major."

"Athlete's foot?"

"I'm not telling you."

"Hey, he's a member of the health club, if he's got athlete's foot I've got
a right to know."

He laughed.  "No you don't.  And it's not like athlete's foot is a
disease."

"Awe c'mon, you gotta give me something!  You don't know about his dick and
now you won't tell me if he's diseased."

In what was probably an attempt to sidetrack me Pete's hand had slipped
into the back of my jeans.

He lightly bit my neck and whispered, "His blood pressure is very good,"
and as his fingers slipped lower still, "and how come you're not wearing
underwear?"

"What is it with my underwear all of a sudden, how come everybody wants to
know about that?"

He laughed and started licking the area just under my earlobe. His warm
breath was right at my ear and my toes began to curl. "Eric, it's just that
you look like someone who wouldn't be wearing underwear. And who else asked
you about it?  And besides, you were wearing underwear this morning at
breakfast, what'd you do, take em off?"

"It's just that boxers get all twisted and briefs feel like they're
strangling me."

"Well, that leaves boxer/briefs."

"Like yours?"

"Yep, but, well, you could try mine, but they're like way too big for you.
But they do feel good.  Come to think of it they may feel entirely too good
for you to handle.  They kinda encourage horniness and in your case, that'd
be horny squared.  I'm not sure the world is ready for that."

He pulled his hand out of my pants, stepped away from me and then said,
"Turn around, lemme get a look."

I turned around and then back.  This whole notion of being even hornier was
beginning to sink in.

"I wanna go get some.  Let's go after dinner."

Pete sighed and said, "Awe, what the hell, something's gotta kill me."



So after dinner we loaded Jase into Pete's Beemer and headed to the mall.

Jase was basically tied down in the back seat, but that wasn't gonna stop
him from seizing the opportunity that a trip to the mall with his dads
afforded.

"Can I get a computer?  Best Buy has got computers."

"No, forget it."

"Ernie's brother's got a computer and he lets us use it, I should have one,
too."

"What do you need a computer for?"

"Everything!  Dad, you can't do anything without a computer!"

"You're too young for your own computer and besides, Ernie practically
lives in our back yard anyway.  You can just walk over to his yard and talk
to him.  Anyway, my computer is in the kitchen and you can email Ernie on
that."

"Can I have a duck?  Ernie's cousin got a baby duck."

"If you had a duck it would basically be lunch for Charlie.  You think he'd
let an opportunity like that pass?"

"I wouldn't look at pictures of naked people.  David says you think that's
what I'd do if I had a computer."  Pete made a little sound in his throat
that sounded like it was intended as a warning.

"Why don't you ask your grandmother about a computer?"

Pete stared straight ahead, but smiled.  "Wonderful save.  But what if she
says yes?"

I slouched down in the seat.  "Hey, she doesn't even want me to have one."

He grinned.  "Well, I can kinda see the thinking behind that."





We had just walked into the department store when Jase started pulling on
our hands.  "Dad, can we go to the Apple store?"

"Jase, we're here to buy underwear."

"I don't need underwear, Dad!  I wanna look at the Apple stuff."  Yes, gone
are the days when he just wants to be with us.

"It's not underwear for you, it's underwear for me."

He was holding our hands and leaning backwards at a forty-five degree angle
in an attempt to move us.  "You don't wear underwear!"

I glanced around to see if anyone was eavesdropping and then hissed.  "I do
too!  When did you ever see me without underwear?"

"Dad, you already got boxers."

"Yeah, well, they leave me unfulfilled."

Jase said, "Huh?" And Pete said, "It's okay, I wanna look at a new laptop
anyway.  You get your underwear and Jase and I'll go to the Apple store.
Just remember, don't get the ones without a fly cause it'll drive you
crazy."  Somewhere along the way Pete had acquired a couple of pairs of
Calvin Klein's that didn't have a fly and he said every time you had to pee
you had to practically get undressed. "We'll meet you in the food court."

Jase dragged Pete away and I stumbled into the perfume department, which is
laid out like a minefield just inside the entrance of the store.  Four
women, all with perfume bottles in their well manicured hands and
irritating attitudes, gave me come hither looks.  I ducked my head in the
universal attitude of I-don't-want-that-shit and headed to my right.  It
wasn't so much that I knew where I was going as it was that I knew where I
didn't want to be.

I stumbled through a jungle of women's wear of some sort, and to my horror
almost knocked over a whole big rack of bras in primary colors, finally
emerging into the quiet, darkly wooded men's department.

I stood there for a moment trying to get my bearings when a woman who was
about as big around as she was tall came around a corner and said, "Have
you been helped?"

I leaned forward and for some reason whispered, "Underwear?"

She looked at me for a second and then said, "Oh sure.  Just around the
corner."  She led me to the other side of the department.

When she got us there, she yelled, "Harold!"

After a second a head poked out of what turned out to be the changing
booths.  He was thin and tallish with scraggly brown hair and one of those
failed beards where the grower only seemed to grow about a third of the
hair they really needed.  He looked like a stoner.

He gave us a truly weird smile and said, "Uno momento!"

The lady actually rolled her eyes and said, "He does the underwear." She
leaned towards me, nodded towards the area we had just come from and
whispered, "If you need any help, I'll be right over there."

Harold cast a wary glance at the departing lady, then turned sideways and
came gliding through the racks of clothing.  He tipped his head to one side
when he spoke, and I'm pretty sure one eye was bigger than the other.

"Looking for underwear?"

I decided to explain the whole thing.  "Uh huh.  I thought I'd try
boxer/briefs.  See the boxers tend to get all bunched up and the briefs
just seem to strangle my, you know, stuff.  Somebody told me that maybe the
boxer/briefs would be okay.  Does that make any sense?"  I figured that if
the guy specialized in underwear that he ought to know all about this
stuff.

He put his elbow up on a rack of Tommy Hilfiger something-or-other and then
rested his face in his hand.  "Perfect sense.  But o'course you really
gotta try'em on."

"You can do that?  I thought you couldn't do that with underwear."

He twisted his hands on his head until his bony fingers were pressing
against his eyes.  Then he spread two fingers, fixed me with the big eye,
grinned wildly and said, "Here you can.  We give our customers whatever
they gotta have and how would you know what feels best till you try em?"
Then suddenly he put the little finger of his right hand in his mouth and
tore off a piece of his finger nail.  "Know what I mean?  Nothin knows what
your junk likes as much as your junk.  And, man, I got junk heaven for ya."

I said, "Junk heaven?"

He nodded and gestured somewhat formally back towards the changing rooms.
"Heaven!  Why don't you slip into changing room one and slip outta those
togs."

"Togs?"

"Those jeans and?whatever lurks beneath them."

"Lurks?"

He lifted the eyebrow of his big eye and said, "Calvin Klein comin right
up!  Your junk is gonna thank me!"

I closed the door of the changing room and looked around.  There was a
bench to sit on and hooks to hang clothes, but the door was one of those
louvered half doors that began a foot up from the floor and was only about
five feet high.

I pulled the buckle on my belt, but didn't take anything off.  For one
thing, Harold seemed well intended but a little nuts.  So when he came back
I was standing there holding my pants up and not quite sure what to do.

Suddenly, Harold's face and hands appeared above the top of the door, he
was holding a box of Calvin Klein underwear.

"How come you're still dressed?"  He tore open the box and threw the empty
box behind him.  "I see you in Heather, although you'd look amazing in
black, too."  He tossed them to me, winked and said, "I promise not to
look."

I caught them with one hand while still holding up my pants.  There was no
way I was going to try these on with him watching.

I stared at him and said, "Gimme a few minutes."

"Oh.  Oh, okay.  But once you've got em on, do some deep knee bends.
That's the only way to really get a feel for em."

"Deep knee bends?"

"Right.  You'll be amazed at how soft that fabric is."

Once Harold disappeared, I warily took my jeans off, set them on the bench,
and pulled on the Calvins.  Waves of sensual pleasure washed over me and I
thought, "Oh, my God!  Oh, my sweet fuckin God!"  They felt soooo soft and
they just did something to my skin.  I ran my hands over my ass and then my
cock.  It was amazing, it was like I was feeling my skin for the first
time, and I was already getting hard.

From somewhere down the hallway, Harold called out, "Don't forget the deep
knee bends!"

I slowly squatted down, down as far as I could go, then I kneeled down and
thrust forward.  The silky fabric and the way that it caressed me made me
want to grind my cock into the floor.

Suddenly, Harold's head appeared under the door.  "You're lookin fine!  My
recommendation is two pair in white, two in black and two in heather."

"I'll take em!  Can I just wear these home?"

"Aaaah, no.  Store policy is that you can't wear anything you buy outta the
store.  Besides, ah, we gotta send those back to Calvin Klein.  You know,
they do tests and shit."

"Tests?"

He nodded.  "Absorbability?and stuff.  You know, technical stuff.  This is
like their only chance to test underwear that's been worn."

I nodded.  "I guess I can see that."  They felt so good.  "Just gimme a
minute and I'll be right out."  Somehow, at the time, it didn't occur to me
that someone might think it was odd that we were having this conversation
while Harold's head was under the door of the changing room and I was half
way lying on the floor grinding my crotch into the carpet.  But apparently
not everyone felt that way.

Suddenly, there was a very deep, very mean sounding voice.  "HAROLD!!"



An hour later I slid into a booth at the food court next to Jase and across
from Pete and laid my head on the table.

Jase yelled, "Dad, Pete bought me an iPod Touch!"

I lifted my head and looked at Pete, he glared back at me.

"Don't start, Eric!  You weren't there!"

I waved my hand in dismissal.  "It's cool."  I reached over, ruffled Jase's
hair and said, "I'm sure you'll love it, Kiddo."

Pete leaned forward and asked, "You got your underwear?"

I reached down and pulled the huge bag up on the table.  "Twelve pairs."

Pete sounded flabbergasted.  "Twelve pair?  That's like $300!  You spent
$300 on underwear?"

I shook my head against the table and squeezed my eyes shut.  "It was free.
I hadda sign something though."  I sighed. "I'm not supposed to tell anyone
what happened and I'm not sure I can ever go back into that store."