When Chris woke Sunday morning, all signs of illness were gone. Whatever it was that had caused him to have the migraine was a mystery but Chris was grateful for the medication Dr Marshal gave him. In fact, Chris was so pleased when he recalled the way Dr Marshal had taken care of him on Thursday that by Monday morning Chris had again renewed his stalking with a little more vigour.

Day 5

Towards the end of the film Monty Python and the Holy Grail, King Arthur confuses the number five for the number three. (OMG that was so funny. I love this movie. The Holy Hand Grenade of Antioch. I laugh thinking about it.)

The five natural senses - sight (I can’t get enough of looking at you), hearing (your voice makes me melt), smell (like the most perfect piece of heaven), taste and touch (what I wouldn’t give to do both).

Chris decided to pull out all stops. Dr Marshal was certain to know the notes were from Chris but Chris decide to go with it. If Dr Marshal was uncomfortable about it, then Chris was sure he wouldn’t say anything. And Chris was fine with that. Throughout the day Chris enquired after Dr Marshal – his excuse to thank him for taking care of him the previous week but as the day progressed Chris realised his chances of seeing the doctor were slim.

At the end of the day, Chris returned the days medical records to the document room. He’d made every attempt to catch Dr Marshall throughout the day but there had not been a time when he was free. Dread hovered over Chris as the days dwindled too quickly. It had been fun in the beginning but now Chris didn’t want it to end.

As Chris climb the small ladder and began filing the records, the door opened and to Chris’s surprise Dr Marshal walked in.

“There you are. Martha said you wanted to speak to me and that I would find you here.”

In the close confines of the records room, Chris couldn’t help be hyper conscious of the close proximity of Dr Marshall looking up at him. The heat in Chris’s cheeks threatened to reveal more than a blush.

Chris attempted to compose himself, taking hold of the shelf as he turned slightly to face Dr Marshall.

“Yes, I wanted to thank you for helping me last week. I’m at a lost as to what was wrong but the medication helped. Thank you.”

“My pleasure.”

My pleasure, oh how Chris so wanted the good doctor’s pleasure, and his blushed deepened. Dr Marshal’s smile grew and Chris glanced away for fear of being drawn to his lips. He hadn’t wanted it to go this far and yet when Chris thought of his note - had he? Heat flooded Chris’s body, as his palm grew sweaty.

“Are you okay?” Dr Marshall asked.

Chris looked back down at Dr Marshall, his gaze fixedly on Chris.

“Yes. I’m fine.” Chris attempted to diffuse his thoughts with words. “With you and the other interns finishing at the end of the week everyone’s growing stressful again. It will be fine in a month or two.”

Dr Marshall’s features changed and Chris couldn’t be sure what he was thinking. The pause before he replied only confused Chris more.

“Three out of five. We’re going to have to work on that.”

Chris frowned and Dr Marshall grinned before leaving the room.

Three out of five. What did that mean? Chris stared towards the door before turning back to the records. Should that mean something to him? Was he being rated for something? Still confused, Chris chose to ignore it as the fantasy of him and Dr Marshall in the records room consumed Chris’s thoughts.

Day 4

The Fab Four – The Beatles (I love the Beatles, my favourite is ‘Little help with my friends’)

There are four parts to a day: Night (can’t sleep without thinking about you) Morning (when I wake each morning it’s with you on my mind) Afternoon (deliriously happy to see you at the end of the day) Evening (so lonely without you)

Wow! Four more days and it’s all over. :(

Chris slipped out of the lunchroom and down to reception. He turned on the lights, started the photocopier and turned on both computers. He liked arriving first in the mornings. He liked the stillness of the waiting room and the darkness of the corridors as he wandered through and turned on lights, opened blinds in the examination rooms and watered the plants.

At the end of the long corridor near the doctor's rooms, Chris finished watering the last of the plants when he turned and collided with Dr Martin. Water flew up from the spout and drenched Chris’s white shirt down one side.

“I’m so sorry Dr Martin.” Chris immediately apologised. He had not heard Dr Martin coming down the corridor.

“No no Chris my fault. I saw you here, but you looked lost in your thoughts and I didn’t want to disturb you. Now you’re all wet.”

“That’s fine Dr Martin, nothing bad. I’ll blow dry it in the men’s bathroom under the dryer.”

“Good thing Chris. Well then, sorry again for that.”

Chris smiled and headed towards the reception to return the plastic watering container back into the storeroom near the front door. From there he made his way to the men’s bathroom. Still too early to open the front doors, Chris noticed several patients gathered in the car park. Chris wouldn’t open the door until nine, giving him time to dry his shirt.

In the bathroom he glanced in the mirror at his wet shirt. He knew he would be self-aware all day but what could he do. It had never occurred to Chris to keep a spare at work. With a sigh, Chris unbuttoned and removed his shirt, holding the fabric under the automated dryer. The chill in the air produced goosebumps over Chris’s torso and the sooner he dried his shirt the faster he could cover up. Constantly moving his shirt under the warm air, Chris remained conscious of the time, knowing others would be arriving.

When the bathroom door opened Chris’s heart leaped to his throat. Dr Marshall entered and stopped when he noticed Chris. Chris quickly looked away and put all his concentration into drying his shirt only too conscious of his bare skin. Fire raged over his face and a tinge of arousal teased his erect nipples.

Not now, Chris cursed himself.

What seemed like a full minute might have only been seconds before Dr Marshall spoke. “Did you have an accident Chris?”

Without looking back Chris replied, “Yes, walked into Dr Martin while watering the plants. Thankfully it’s only water but I don’t have a spare so this is the best I can do.”

Chris had expected a reply but when the silence lingered between them again, Chris looked over his shoulder to see Dr Marshall’s reflection in the mirror. His cheeks turn a scarlet red and he immediately turned back as the dryer stopped. Impossible to focus, his mind screaming, ‘He’s checking me out’. Blood pulsed through his body straight to his groin and Chris found himself in a desperate situation.

“I have a spare shirt I can lend you. It might be a little big but it should look fine.”

Chris breathed in as deep as his lungs would let him and slowly out again. Without turning, Chris replied, “Um... thank you.”

The shirt in his hand was almost dry but the temptation to wear Dr Marshall’s shirt was too hard to refuse. The hairs on his arm tingled, his body buzzing with arousal and Chris barely contained his excitement.

“It’s in my locker, I’ll get it.”

Chris nodded and as Dr Marshal left he closed his eyes and counted to ten. Never had he imagined he’d be half naked, alone, and with Dr Marshall. The fantasy he had in the record room was one thing, but the bathroom, it would be Chris’s favourite. When the door opened again, Dr Marshal returned with a pale blue shirt.

“Sorry, it’s not white.”

“No that’s fine. This is perfect, thank you.”

Reluctant to turn around, Chris held his shirt to his chest as he took the one offered. It did not go missed by Chris; Dr Marshall’s gaze dropping to his chest and Chris hastily placed his shirt between his legs as he put on the clean one. Not until the buttons were done, and the shirt tucked into his pants did Chris once more direct his attention to Dr Marshall.

“Not bad. No one will notice.” Dr Marshal told him.

“Thank you Dr Marshal, this was extremely nice of you.”

“My pleasure Chris and please call me Eric when we’re together. Dr Marshal sounds too formal for us now don’t you think.”

There was no hiding the blush across Chris’s face.

“Thank you Eric.”

Eric’s smile radiated in the small space, leaving Chris mesmerised.

“You should get back to work now. I’m sure Martha will be wondering what has happen to you.”

“Shit,” Chris murmured. “Thank you again Eric, I’ll get your shirt back to you once I’ve had it dry cleaned.”

Chris brushed passed Eric as he made to leave the room.

“That’s fine Chris, you keep it. It looks good on you.”

Chris stumbled out the door, glancing down the empty corridor before rushing to his locker where he tossed his shirt in. Quickly making his way to the front desk, Martha busy with a client, she paid no attention to Chris as he sat at his computer and stared at the screen. With his mind going a mile a minute, Chris couldn't be sure but he suspected Eric had been flirting with him. Impossible to believe, and yet Chris was convinced it happened.

Not once did Chris see Eric again during the day and he was grateful. The knowledge Eric’s shirt brushed against his nipples left him in a constant state of arousal. Martha had called him out several times during the day for being absent minded and Chris found his attention waning between fantasy and work. Had he seen Eric again, Chris was sure he’d have done or said something regrettable. That night at home, Chris went to bed early, but not to sleep.