Page 14 of The Facilitator, Part 3

Chapter Eight

“Are we sharing a car?” Lauren said, as she grabbed her workbag.

“I have an appointment in London at ten so I’m hanging around here. I’ll be in after,” I replied.

“Okay. I’ll see you soon,” she said, and then left the house.

She’d never ask what my appointment was or with who. Not because we had secrets, other than this one, but because I had meetings all the time, every day, mostly. Sometimes that was simply to catch up with fellow businessmen, Americans, or to talk about investments.

That morning, however, I was anxious, nervous, even.

I knew I wouldn’t get any answers that day, it was just the beginning of testing, but it was a start.

A step on the path to getting a definitive answer on whether I could father a child.

I hadn’t broached the subject with Lauren, I should have, but I was that person who wanted to know first. When I had news to share, I’d share it.

I tried to get on with some work, I caught up with emails and approved a few press releases, but I couldn’t concentrate.

I headed for the kitchen and grabbed an espresso, then poured it away in case I had to give a sample.

I didn’t want anything leaving my body to be caffeine laden.

Instead, I grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and I sat in the garden.

I scrolled through my phone, bored, until I stumbled across a property site.

I clicked on and searched for homes by the coast. Of course, the site was worldwide and I had to narrow it down within the UK.

There were some magnificent properties along the south coast, Sandbanks in particular.

I bookmarked the page, perhaps we’d take a trip down that way to check it out.

When I heard my car pull on the drive, I locked up the house, and left.

I was quiet on the journey. Usually I chatted to the driver but I was too anxious.

When we arrived, I sat in the car for a moment and looked at the building.

Like most in Harley Street the small plaque gave the details of the medical facility.

“I don’t know how long I’m going to be, I suspect an hour. I’ll text,” I said .

“No problem, Mr. Miller. I’ll just park up and wait for your message.”

Without thanking him, I left the car. I buttoned up my jacket and walked through the door. I found myself in a rather old and slightly scruffy building with a sign to follow for reception. I guessed the age of the building didn’t allow for anything modern, such as an elevator.

I signed in, took a form on a clipboard to complete, then handed it back. I waited. Right on time I was called in.

Sam Rules, as he introduced himself, rose from behind his desk. He offered me to sit.

“It’s good to meet you, Mr. Miller,” he said, and I recognized a slight American accent.

“It’s Mackenzie,” I replied.

“A fellow American. Although I left there many years ago,” he said.

We chatted about the States and where we were from before he got down to business.

“I’ve studied all your medical records. Annoyingly, the earlier data is vague.

I can see that you were involved in a vehicle accident that resulted in testicular trauma.

” He peered over his glasses as me. “I also see that you were unconscious for a while. I’d suspect that a good thing with the level of damage to the testes. ”

I laughed and nodded. “Yeah, I’m super pleased to have avoided that pain. ”

“Did anyone actually tell you what happened?”

I shook my head. “My friend was killed, I was high and stupid. The focus was on whether to arrest me or not. I don’t recall seeing anyone after I was discharged.”

He shook his head and sighed. “I suspected as much. Had something been done at the time, Mackenzie, you probably wouldn’t be sitting here now.

There was a bleed, obviously, and, if you look here, damage that resulted in scar tissue.

” He turned his computer screen to show me my balls in all their X-rayed glory.

“The scar tissue is the problem?” I asked.

“Part of it. We can remove scar tissue but that’s not going to help with the production of sperm.

We need to run some tests, obviously. I’d like a sample just to see if you are producing any of the little blighters.

I’d like to do bloods, a health check to see how fit you are, in case we choose a surgical route, although I suspect you keep fit,” he said, again peering at me over his glasses.

I’d learned in my research that he’d been a professor at both Oxford and then King’s College. He was a pioneer in reconstructive surgery for trauma victims, which is why I chose him. He pressed a button on his desk and his nurse appeared.

“Follow Karen, she’ll get you sorted, then I’ll see you after,” he said. He started writing on his pad.

“This way, please,” she said. I was taken to a door.

“You’ll find a pot with your name and a selection of reading material.

If the reading material is not to your liking, please switch on the television.

When you’ve left your sample, just place the container in the tray and cover with the cloth.

Then wait out here,” she said. I nodded as she opened the door for me.

It was a surprisingly comfortable room, considering what it was used for. There was a chair in the corner that I chose to ignore. I had no idea how thoroughly that was cleaned before sample depositors. I brought Lauren to mind and…nothing.

“Fuck,” I said, panicking and then laughing.

I fished around for my phone and made a call. “Hey, baby. I need to ask you something really odd,” I said, when Lauren asked.

“Are you okay, you sound very echoy ?”

“Yeah, I’m good. Talk dirty to me?” I said, balancing the phone on my shoulder and freeing my cock with one hand while holding the pot with another.

“Sorry?” she said, and then she chuckled. “I’m sitting with the accountants right now.”

“Shit. Go to the restroom, or something,” I said. Already my cock was hardening just talking to her. Even more so when I heard the squeal of a chair as she stood.

“Excuse me for a moment, guys, Mackenzie needs me,” I heard her say.

She whispered while she walked. “Mackenzie, what on earth are you up to?” she said .

“Well, I’m getting a health check and they want a sample. I need you to talk dirty to me, the only magazines in here are from the sixties with huge tits and hairy pussies,” I said, sliding my hand up and down my cock.

She laughed. “Oh, Jesus, Mackenzie. Why didn’t you say, I would have come with you. And are you sure they don’t want a urine sample? It’s pretty odd to ask for a sperm sample at a health check. What aren’t you telling me, baby?” she said, her voice quiet.

“Okay, it’s a urine sample, I’m teasing but I’m in this room all on my own so I thought I’d give myself a quick relief.”

“Really?” she asked, and I could tell by the hesitation that she wasn’t sure whether to believe me or not.

“I’ll tell you all when I get home,” I said.

“Okay,” she drew the word out. “Wrap your hand around your cock, tell me what it feels like,” she whispered.

“It’s hard, silky, I can still smell you on me,” I said, lowering my voice and praying the rooms were soundproofed.

“I love the taste of your cock. I love when you fuck my mouth and you push so far in tears form in my eyes. The salty taste of your precum makes my mouth water and I want more. I want your cum in my mouth, coating my throat as it slides down. I want to feel your balls in my hand and I want to lick them. ”

I tuned out a little; just hearing her voice and not necessarily the words was enough. I came, and although it was probably half my usual amount, it was enough.

“All right, I’m done,” I said, cutting her off mid-sentence.

“Mackenzie Miller, you’re not telling me the truth but you will later, okay?” she said, and I felt scolded. I chuckled.

“I will. You know me; I want to tell you when I have something to actually tell you. It’s nothing bad, honestly.”

“Yeah, well now I’m worried.”

“Baby, it is a health check, but it’s nothing bad.”

“Promise me?”

“I promise. Now I have to go because I have my cock in one hand, a pot of spunk in the other, and a nurse about to come find me.”

“If she’s sexy, she might have done the job,” she said, laughing.

“No one compares to you,” I said.

“Charmer, but it’s not getting you out of this conversation. As soon as you’re done I’m coming to get you. I’ll know where you are, Mackenzie, I can just ring downstairs.”

“Okay, give me an hour, then come and meet me,” I said. I was pretty stupid to have called her, there was no getting out of explaining what I was doing now .

“I’ll be there before then,” she said, and cut off the call.

She had that tone of voice that suggested she was pissed and I didn’t blame her.

I followed the nurse’s instructions with the pot and then cleaned myself up. At least the waste paper basket was empty when I deposited my tissues in there. I left the room and sat outside, a guy left the room next door and there as well. He smiled over at me. It was awkward.

“Well, that was interesting,” he said. I wasn’t sure how interesting spanking into a pot was.

“I just called my wife,” I said, and then chuckled.

“Sadly, I don’t have one otherwise I would have,” he replied.

Before I could get into any further conversation, the nurse called me back and I followed her to another room where she took some blood.

I was weighed, measured, puffed into a gadget to check for lung capacity, I had an ECG, which I was rather impressed with, and then asked to wait in a second reception.

It was a half hour later that I was called back to Mr. Rules’ office and I wondered if Lauren had arrived.

She’d see urology and I hoped she’d think it was prostate or some such thing.

Which reminded me, perhaps I ought to book a prostate exam at some point. I didn’t need to.

“Right, let’s have a check of the old prostate,” Sam said, coming into the room minus his jacket and gloved up.