I have a doctor’s appointment today. Just a routine checkup—nothing to worry about. I always enjoy seeing my doctor. He’s very kind and, frankly, very good-looking (hence part of the blog title). Since I still have vacation time to use before the end of May, I took this morning as sick leave and this afternoon as vacation. So: no work for me today.
Last night, I had another one of my steamy dreams.
Earlier in the evening, I’d been thinking about a vacation I’m planning in April. I know I’ll be going to several gay bars, and maybe—just maybe—I’ll finally get some relief for whatever these dreams are trying to tell me. The dream began with that trip… and then drifted back to my office.
Several years ago, when I was briefly on Grindr, I was messaged by a young man. As we chatted, I realized he was a student. Any sexual relationship with a student—even an online one—is grounds for immediate dismissal, so I told him why I was hesitant to continue the conversation. That’s when he calmly said he knew who I was because he used to be a student worker at the museum.
The restrooms are in the same entrance area as the reception desk where our student workers usually sit. He told me that every time I walked into the restroom, he fantasized about me fucking him in one of the stalls.
He never showed me his face, but he had a fantastic body—and an impressive dick. I didn’t believe him at first. I was heavier then, badly out of shape, and at least twenty years older than him. But he said I was his type. He liked older, larger men.
We even made plans for him to come to my apartment. He never showed, which was probably for the best.
Later, I realized who he was from the student workers we’d had. After standing me up, he returned to work at the museum and seemed more comfortable around me than before. I noticed him looking at me when he thought I wasn’t watching. We never spoke about Grindr, and I never let on that I knew who he was.
That May, he graduated, joined the Marines, and disappeared from my life.
Which brings me to the dream.
In the dream, it’s seven years later. He shows up at the museum and comes into my office. He asks if I remember him. I say of course I do. He asks if we can close the door.
Once it’s shut, he reminds me of that Grindr conversation—the student who used to fantasize about me. I tell him I remember. It’s not something you forget. He says he’s always regretted not coming to my apartment and that he’s sorry he stood me up. He’s nearly in tears.
I stand up and hug him. He melts into me and tells me how hard it was seeing me every day for the rest of that school year. Then he straightens himself and asks if he can take me to dinner that night. He’ll be in town for a few days.
We meet at his hotel at six and go to a nice Italian restaurant. The conversation is awkward at first, but then it flows. I ask about the Marines. About MMA. I knew he’d won a regional tournament when he was in college.
At the end of dinner, I try to pay, but he insists.
Back at his hotel, he invites me up. As soon as the door shuts behind us, he presses me against it and kisses me—hungry, urgent, like he’s been holding this in for years.
For once, I don’t wake up before the dream gets to the good part.
I give him exactly what he’s been wanting all these years.
And then something strange happens: I start to wake up, but the dream doesn’t stop. My body is in bed, but my mind is still there—still walking out of his hotel room, still feeling the echo of his hands on me, already imagining the next time I’ll see him.
I wake fully just as my dream-self is leaving his room, hard and flushed, caught in that half-awake haze where desire lingers even after the scene ends.
Eventually, things settle down and I drift back to sleep—though not before Isabella notices I’m awake around 2:30 a.m. She makes a halfhearted attempt to get me up for food, then decides my hip will do just fine and curls back up with me.
P.S. For anyone unfamiliar with the reference, “Dr. McDreamy” comes from Grey’s Anatomy, where it’s used as a nickname for a devastatingly handsome doctor… and if you’re going to have a hot doctor and a sex dream in the same post, you might as well commit to the bit.
Joe
The Closet Professor 