Renovation on the single story medical complex was almost complete, with the exception of the patient waiting area which still needed Leslie’s “comfy” couches that were on back order. Though it was a sports clinic, he was determined to make it as comfortable as a bed and breakfast. I didn’t really care, as long as we were able to do our jobs with proper equipment and supplies.

As I stood in my office, I saw various painters walk down the adjacent hallway getting ready to complete examination rooms A & B. The clinic was a bustle of activity of painters, electricians, and medical supply facilitators, which is why I was so surprised to see the stranger standing in my office doorway. He looked familiar, but I wasn’t sure why.

“Hi,” I mumbled, “Can I help you?”

“Hey, Eric.”

I froze. This guy knew my name? I looked at him closer and realized that whoever he was, he was cute, wearing bike clothing and a helmet draped across his muscular shoulder.

“It’s Raymond. From the last SCA meeting.” The butterflies in my stomach returned as I realized this was the kid who called himself eternally single. “I was just biking back from work and saw the sign and thought, ‘hey, that’s the guy.’ And here you are.”

Uncomfortable silence filled the room. “Yes,” I mumbled, unsure what to say. “Here I am.”

“Looks like a cool building.”

“You…work in the area?” I asked, not remembering.

“The 24 hour Fitness up on Santa Monica.”

Suddenly it all came back to me. We met at that 12 step meeting a few weeks ago, where he told me his concerns about his job with hot muscle gymbods running around because he was a sex addict. And now my concerns of heading a gay sports clinic–would I be able to keep my hands off my patients?

This guy Raymond had a certain effect on me, one of calmness yet his piercing blue eyes startled my inhibitions. The bottom line: was this guy just being friendly or was he hitting on me? I wasn’t sure.

Then without warning, the fantasy came to me faster than I could stop it.

I approached him, staring him down, and leaned him into the doorway. I took his spandex bicycle shorts in my hands and pulled them down to his knees, exposing an erect-

STOP IT! A part of being a recovered sex addict is to limit or stop abusive sexual fantasies!

“You okay?” asked Raymond, standing in the doorway.

“Yes, I’m sorry.” My phone rang thank God, giving me an opportunity to calm down.

“Hello?”

Muffled silence was heard on the other end of the phone until Mike sputtered onto the line, “Hey, it’s me. Listen, I’m getting over the flu and I feel like shit, but I need to see you. There have been some complications with Steve. Have you heard?”

“No,” I said, turning away from Raymond for fear of getting an obvious erection.

“He got out of Greystone. Police are going nuts. We need to move his money to another account. Can you meet later in the week?”

“Sure.”

CLICK.

“Everything okay?” asked Raymond.

“Yes.”

“Listen, you’re busy. I’ll see you around, okay?”

We waved good-bye to each other and off he went. Something told me this sexy man named Raymond would be back.