"You're hurting me, calmer, baby," I say to the dumb chick.

She can't even suck a blowjob. She totally turned me off. She moans pretending to like it, but she's so useless she can't even do that.

Fucking damn me! I've fucked a bunch of chicks and not one of them can turn me on. I pull her head away and unstuck her lips out of my penis. Without saying a word, I signal her to leave my office before I start cursing her, and she bursts out crying. She's so stuffy I can't even finish.

I'm calling Stephan to come into the office.

"You asked for me," he says with an exasperating earnestness.

"Don't let any other chick come in here tonight," I tell him in a bad mood.

"Alright," he says and turns to leave.

"Stephan," I stop him. "Stay and have a drink with me," I say in a beseeching tone.

Am I begging him?! What the shit damn it? What the fuck is wrong with me?

"I must stay out, Dorian. Someone has to be at the door," he tells me.

Is he avoiding me or is it my idea?

"Ridge will stay with the rest," I command. "Let them know that you are going to stay in my office for a while," I continue in a tone that takes no further notice, and of course, he obeys me.

"Pour two drinks, Stephan," I say.

He fills two glasses from the small bar of my office, picks them up, and comes to sit down.

"Here's to you, Dorian, and your good health," he says.

I frown. "I don't know if I still have my health," I say to him, and I take down one gulp of my whiskey.

"Don't say that, Dorian. So far we know it is simple Epididymitis. We don't know yet if it's Prostate", he tells me in an attempt to fucking console me, and he also takes his drink in one gulp.

"Bring the bottle from the bar, and pour another one of your own," I say.

I desperately want a friend tonight.

"No more for me," he says, thinking about his responsibility to the job.

"I give you the day off for tonight. Don't worry," I solve his problem because he doesn't like to drink when he works.

I have explicitly instructed my staff from the beginning not to drink on the job and so far, everyone has followed my orders. Needless to say, any chick I fuck in here keeps her mouth shut if she doesn't want to lose her job.

I have people in the Mafia who hold me in the highest regard. I have staff that does what I ask without a second thought. I have a shitload of money to live seven more lives. Wherever I enter everyone is more than willing to satisfy me in whatever I fucking ask or desire.

Phat life, isn't it?

Who wouldn't like all this?

How fucking absurd would it sound if I said all this isn't enough?

There's a fucking void inside me that all this doesn't cover, and that pisses me off.

What the fuck is missing damn me?

"That fucking night Reva walked into the office and caught me with that chick, was it you who let her get in?" I ask him sharply with suspicion.

"No, Dorian. That's not how it happened. You told us to take the girls and show them their posts," he says, and I wonder how it is possible to remember them all in detail.

"But the door was left open and unprotected," I tell him, narrowing my eyes.

"I thought you locked up the minute you kept that girl in the office. It's a little impossible for me to lock the door from the inside and at the same time be outside the office, don't you think? That was your responsibility", the asshole says with a smug tone, and I get even angrier because he is right.

I should have locked that fucking door.

"It's different with Reva. We'll be together, we're not done," I say without thinking about it because I remember he liked her, but he didn't dare to make a move to approach her.

But now that we're broken up, I think the asshole's capable of going after her.

"It's been a long time, Dorian. If you ask me, I think Reva has moved on. I mean, after all this time, if she were to feel the same, she would have made a move," he speaks with suspicious certainty, and I don't want what I'm thinking to be true.

"Have you seen her?" I ask him quickly.

"Yes, I went by her house," he blurts out.

"What? Why?" I snarl.

"I wanted to see her," he says comfortably.

The asshole won't tell me everything; he'll tell me whatever he wants.

"How is she?" I ask, joining my brows irritated.

"Very well. These days she has taken leave of the court and is resting," he continues in the same comfortable tone.

I hate the fact that everyone can see her whenever they want while I don't. I think she still loves me, but I treated her so badly that I'm sure that's enough to get over me quickly.

That's just the way it is, the fucking voice in my head confirms.

"Call the doctor and tell him to come this way. He said that today he will have my health examinations," I say anxiously, bringing back to my mind the fucking disease.

"Dorian, it's getting dark. Tomorrow morning I-"

"Just fucking call him, Stephan!" I interrupt him with shouts. "Tell him to come by the casino now, he won't waste his time," I continue, lowering my voice.

I can't bear to wait until tomorrow. I drink several sips of whiskey from the bottle while Stephan calls my doctor.

"What did he tell you, is he coming?" I ask him as soon as I see him end the call on his cell phone.

"Yes, he will come. He understands your distress," he answers with pursed lips.

"Well, I'm going out for a while, and as soon as the doctor comes, I'll send him in," he says and goes away.

I'm left alone to be tormented by fucking thoughts in which if things were different, I wouldn't give a damn and I wouldn't spoil my mood for any fucking reason.

Certain things breathe down our necks, whether we want them or not.

The office door opens, and the doctor comes in. He came just in time to save me temporarily from the thoughts I was about to sink into them again.

"Good evening, Dorian," he says and gives me his hand.

"Hello, Craig. I'm sorry I brought you in a hurry, but I can't wait till tomorrow," I say, clasping my brows.

"It's all right, Dorian. Don't worry, I understand," he tells me.

"Sit down, do you want a drink?"

"Well, what's the matter with me? Don't hesitate, whatever it is. Just tell me the truth," I say determined to hear the worst.

"In the first instance, it's not serious, it's being treated."

"Explain it to me," I move my finger in a circle, giving him an impulse to go on.

"As I told you on the phone, you have Epididymitis. This is a microbial infection of the urethra, an inflammation in the organ that connects the testicle to the seminal canal. This is a tubular formation from which spermatozoon produced in the testicle pass and matures to end up in the seminal canal. That's why you were in pain during ejaculation, the increased fever, and discomfort in your lower abdomen," he explains to me in every fucking medical detail and confuses me more.

"Why would this happen to me? I mean, I'm not that old, I'm only thirty-five," I say and take several sips of whiskey.

"Epididymitis can happen to young men, too, Dorian. The positive for you is that you don't have testicular inflammation. Well, I'm going to give you a strong medication that will eliminate Epididymitis in three to four weeks. This procedure will not affect your reproductive capacity, don't worry," he catches up with me.

I was just about to ask if I'm fucking incompetent.

"As long as you do your treatment, you should have no sexual intercourse. You understand that, don't you?" he says in a serious tone, and his words don't look like a question.

I move my head affirmatively.

"Well, that's all for now. Come by my clinic tomorrow so we can start treatment, and please, stop the alcohol; at least while you take the drugs," he says and gets up to leave.

"Thank you, Craig," I can only say.

"No problem. Don't worry, your case it's being treated," he says and gives me his hand.

I open my desk drawer and pull out a thick bundle of dollars.

"These are for you."

"You've already paid me, Dorian, no more money is needed," he says timidly and reminds me of Reva in a male version.

That night when I threw her into my riches, she took nothing but me.

There are also these people, Dorian. They are not many, but some don't live just for money, the voice says in my head, and I smile obliquely without reacting this time.

"Don't get offended, doctor. I know you're not greedy. I just want to thank you in some way for the good news you've brought me, and I don't know how else to do it. Accept the sum as a gift. Don't leave without it, please," I tell him and grab the bundle of dollars.

I approach and cram the bundle into the pocket of his jacket.

"Go now, good night," I shake his hand and escort him as far as the office door.

"Good night, Dorian, thank you," he says and goes out.