Rating/Warnings: M for sexual content and profanity. Since this is an AU, the names are (mostly) different; see the list of characters at the beginning.
Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to Saiyuki nor do I make a profit from it; Kazuya Minekura and her publishers do. This is a work of fanfiction. No copyright or other infringement is intended.
Summary: Hakkai and JoJo (Gojyo) amuse themselves while Cory (Sanzo) is busy with their friend Gordon (Goku); Dr. Nielsen's (Nii's) arrival for his appointment with Cory disrupts the peaceful mood.
The first chapter of this story was first written for the Anonymous Saiyuki Kink Meme IV hosted by Istumen. The prompt was: Prostitute!Sanzo. Given to virgin!Goku as a birthday present. Given all the backstory the story included, I couldn't stop there.
Thanks to HawkClowd for the awesome beta-fu.
Cast of characters in this chapter:
Jimmy = Jiroshin
Gordon Smalls = Son Goku
Hakkai Cho = Cho Hakkai
Cory Sanzo = Genjyo Sanzo
Dr. Nielsen = Nii
Connie = Kanzeon Bosatsu
Linda = Lirin
JoJo = Gojyo
The House of the Rising Sun
Chapter 2
Jimmy directed Gordon's friends to the bar in the far left corner, beyond the grand staircase. They took a couple of steps toward it, enough to see round marble top mahogany tables and round chairs with cane backs filling the middle of the room. A mahogany bar ran along the wall to the right. Gilt mirrors reaching almost to the ceiling behind the bar reflected the glassware and bottles of liquor. A bartender wearing an old-fashioned white shirt, suspenders, black pants, a black bow tie, and black garters around his upper arms completed the picture.
Victorian-style divans and fainting couches covered in burgundy velvet, marble-topped end tables, and hurricane-style lamps wired for electricity, not candlelight or gaslight, lined the left-hand wall. The windows were covered with venetian blinds as well as heavy burgundy velvet curtains tied back with wide swags.
Hakkai backtracked toward the reception desk, his friend trailing after him, unsure of what he was up to. "Would it be all right if we played a game of cards while we waited?" he asked.
Jimmy raised a bushy eyebrow. "What game do you plan to play and for what stakes?" he asked.
"Poker, and we'd only be playing for a dollar a hand."
"You brought your own deck?" Jimmy asked, eyeing the well-used pack of cards in the man's hand suspiciously.
"Yes," Hakkai responded. "You never know when you'll be in the mood for an impromptu game."
Jimmy thought about this. The House had most of the New Orleans vice squad and brass in the police department on its payroll, so being caught wasn't a particular concern. The deck could well be marked, though. They couldn't chance that, especially since sometimes the residents watched and, worse yet, got involved in a game. He didn't want any fights breaking out, or hard feelings between a resident and a potential customer.
After a few seconds' thought, Jimmy said, "We'd be happy for you to play informally, but as a matter of courtesy you must allow anyone else who is in the bar parlor who asks to play. And we'd like you to use one of our decks."
Hakkai's eyes narrowed. "You don't trust us?" he asked in a steady but firm voice.
"It's not that," Jimmy said with a nervous laugh. "We can't afford to have guests accused of cheating." He added, "We can provide you with an unopened deck."
Hakkai shot a look at the tall redhead slouched against the counter, hands in his pockets. The redhead had been leaning there long enough for Jimmy to notice his sunken high cheekbones and the two scars along his left cheek; Jimmy would bet good money that there was an interesting story behind both the man's striking looks and his disfigurement.
The redhead nodded slightly and Hakkai said, "Yes, that's acceptable to us."
Jimmy fished a wrapped, unopened pack of cards out of the desk and threw them on the wooden counter. "There you go. Compliments of the House. Just make sure to leave them when you go."
"Sure thing," the redhead said and pushed away from the counter holding the new deck.
Hakkai led the way toward the bar parlor.
Because it was relatively early, the bar parlor was quiet and nearly empty. A husky man with close-cropped black hair wearing a bolo tie and rumpled suit sat at a table counting bills and sipping a glass of scotch on the rocks that he poured from a bottle he kept with him at the table. Presumably he was another one of the employees, perhaps a bookkeeper or clerk, Hakkai thought.
The two men stepped up to the counter, the redhead intending to beat Hakkai to the punch when it came to paying for their first round of drinks, but Hakkai stopped him, saying, "Tonight's my treat, all right, JoJo?"
He slapped the Mastercard on the counter and asked the bartender to start a tab. The bartender took the card for safekeeping and nodded. Hakkai ordered whiskey neat and JoJo ordered the beer that was on tap.
While they stood there waiting for their drinks to be delivered, JoJo smiled slyly and said, "In that case, expect no mercy from me when we play cards. I'm going to beat the pants off of you."
Hakkai arched his eyebrow. "My, are we playing strip poker again? I know this is a whorehouse, but isn't it a bit daring to do that here, in public?"
JoJo laughed and slapped Hakkai on the back in the universal guy language of good cheer and bonhomie. "Good one, Hakkai! I'll have to remember to tell that one to the brothers back at the frat house. They'll add it to the long list of funny, ironic, and perverted things you've said over the last three years."
Hakkai said, in a low voice, "If we keep this up, we may be here for three more. I understand tonight is special for Gordon, and I don't begrudge him, but you have to stop dragging me to bars on weeknights."
"What," JoJo said, "you can't hold your liquor anymore?" He snagged his beer as the bartender slid it down the bar toward him and Hakkai grabbed his whiskey. They walked over and sat down at a table.
Hakkai frowned. "That is not the point. The point is that I'm not devoting the time I should to my studies, and since my parents were kind enough to send me here to learn something useful to them and the company, I should repay them by studying and getting good grades."
JoJo remarked sullenly, "How does going out on a Thursday night count anyway? Thursday is practically the start of the weekend as it is."
Hakkai had to admit the justness of the remark, so he dropped the topic. He removed the cellophane wrapper from the deck of cards and began shuffling and dealing. His fingers moved so quickly that they became a blur.
JoJo enjoyed watching him do this; his dexterity was mesmerizing. JoJo had earned pocket change as a card sharp during summer breaks and even he wasn't as accomplished at shuffling and dealing as Hakkai was. Sometimes his envy temporarily doused the flame of their friendship a bit, especially his envy of everything Hakkai had that he didn't. Then he would remember how Hakkai got the scar on his belly and the damage to his right eye and he remembered that Hakkai had paid a price – maybe too high a price – considering his abilities and the luxuries he enjoyed.
They played in mostly companionable silence, JoJo raising and Hakkai meeting him until the moment of truth when they turned their hidden cards over. As usual, Hakkai had the winning hand and walked away the winner. As much as he might deny it, his uncanny understanding of probability and the psychology of betting stood him in good stead.
Every so often, Hakkai wandered over to the bar to refresh their drinks, as there was no table service. He supposed that was how they maintained the pretense that it was a private bar for friends of the 'residents' and not a public bar that needed a liquor license.
The busty blonde who had caught JoJo's attention when she'd arrived earlier walked unsteadily down the stairs into the bar parlor. It looked as though she had nowhere better to be. She was soon leaning over JoJo's shoulder and looking into his hand.
"Hey, sister," he said good-naturedly. "Don't tip my friend here off as to what cards I have."
She stood up, her cleavage only inches away from his face. "Don't worry, gorgeoush," she pouted. "I don't give customersh secretsh away."
"What's your name, if I may ask?" Hakkai said.
"Aww, whatta gentleman! The name's Linda," she replied, and sat down, somewhat unsteadily, in the chair to JoJo's right. "Sho what're your names?"
"I'm Hakkai," the dark-haired man with the neatly trimmed hair and glasses said, "and my friend's name is JoJo."
"Nice to meet you both," she said, and held out her hand. It wasn't clear whether she intended them to kiss her hand, continental-style, shake it, or hold it. JoJo lifted it to his lips and placed a gentle kiss on the back of it. When he let go, she stretched her arm out over the table toward Hakkai, who held her hand briefly and murmured, "Enchanted to meet you."
She settled back in her chair. Hakkai wasn't sure if she was going to ask to be dealt in, kibitz, or just watch.
As they continued playing, Linda snuck glances at JoJo's hand and whispered comments to him that made him laugh, but she didn't outright kibitz and she didn't tip Hakkai off to what cards JoJo held. She flung her arms around JoJo when he turned unexpectedly lucky with a flush. Given the ups and downs of the bets, winning this hand brought him almost even with Hakkai for a change.
JoJo felt a surge of triumph. He never won a game of poker against Hakkai. Okay, he was better at playing Guitar Hero, and they were pretty evenly matched at most video games, but he sucked at card games by comparison.
A few hands later, Linda slumped against JoJo's right arm. It was uncomfortable, and he nudged her a little, but she didn't wake up. Apparently she had had a few drinks too many somewhere along the way that evening.
The bartender, observing this, bustled over to the table and hauled her out of her seat. "Excuse me," he said, nodding to them, and he guided her to the private office opposite the reception desk. Connie wasn't in, so he guided Linda to Connie's couch, where she stretched out. Closing the door behind him, he gave the high sign to Jimmy, who'd witnessed the entire thing, to make sure someone warned Connie if she returned before Linda woke up and staggered upstairs.
Jimmy was bemused. He thought sure that one or both of Gordon's friends were going to avail themselves of the House wares while Gordon was getting waxed. Instead they seemed content to sit in the bar playing cards and to wait for him.
Speaking of which, shouldn't Gordon be done by now? Cory didn't usually take this long to satisfy a customer, nor did he normally lose track of time. Time is money, as Cory himself often remarked.
Jimmy found the delay disquieting. It suggested an attachment to a client of the sort that Connie preached, and Jimmy fervently believed, that House residents should never have.
As he was thinking this, a middle-aged man with greasy slicked back black hair and a permanent five o'clock shadow, his lips curled in a smirk and a toothpick in his mouth, breezed in as if he owned the place. The toothpick used to be a cigarette but he'd switched when the House had banned smoking in the common areas. Sometimes he walked around with an unlit cigarette between his lips, though.
"Hello, Dr. Nielsen," Jimmy said. "Please make yourself comfortable. I'll give Cory a call."
Things were just getting better and better. He had to call Cory to tell him he was running late while he still had a prior client with him. Lovely. Jimmy hoped his call wouldn't interrupt anything; while he only expected this engagement to be a one-off, he would prefer not to piss a customer and potential referral source off to that extent.
He gave Dr. Nielsen a weak smile and dialed Cory's extension. He paused when Cory picked up and said, "Yes?" Cory seemed a little huffy but it didn't sound like Jimmy had caught him in the middle of anything.
"Dr. Nielsen is here. You need to get your butt down here." Since Dr. Nielsen was still hovering near the desk, Jimmy didn't want to say anything more that might tip him off that Cory was still with his prior client, the one whose arrival had precipitated the request that Dr. Nielsen postpone his appointment in the first place.
"Fuck," Cory said irritably. He rubbed his head and tried to rouse himself from the pleasant lethargy and sense of comfort he was feeling. "All right. Can you stall him for a bit? I need to wash up."
Jimmy sighed. Clearly Cory had somehow gotten caught up in the moment, as unheard of as that was. "I'll do my best," he said, and hung up.
He greeted the good doctor with an utterly fake smile and said, "Cory will be down shortly, sir. Can I offer you anything to drink? There are magazines there." Since Linda was still occupying Connie's couch, he couldn't very well offer the use of the flatscreen TV in Connie's office and the collection of pornographic DVDs Connie kept there. Jimmy suspected she kept them as much for her own amusement as for clients' and House residents' edification.
"No, thank you," Dr. Nielsen said politely, his eyes gleaming behind the lenses of his black-framed glasses. He went over to the couch and looked desultorily at the magazine covers. Jimmy heaved a small sigh of relief that at least the man wasn't hovering nearby. He would prefer it, though, if the doctor would sit down.
He expected Gordon to walk down the stairs soon. Jimmy hoped Cory had gone easy enough on him that he wouldn't stagger on the way down.
Dr. Nielsen began flipping through magazines, frowning a bit, as if he didn't much like what he saw.
A few minutes later, Gordon bounded down the stairs. He seemed to have an inexhaustible supply of energy and to be no worse for wear as a result of the evening's activities, Jimmy noted.
When Gordon approached the desk sporting a quizzical look on his face, Jimmy pointed to the bar parlor and said, "Your friends are waiting for you there." A grin split Gordon's face and he ran off to find them.
After Gordon left, Jimmy looked up and was startled to see Dr. Nielsen looming over him. He hadn't heard or otherwise noticed him leave the waiting area to walk over to the desk. Creepy.
Dr. Nielsen had a strange glint in his eye. "Is that the young man for whom I graciously agreed to move my appointment back? He is rather delicious, isn't he?" he said, and leered.
Jimmy was a little taken aback. He didn't know the good doctor liked them that youthful looking. Cory was in his twenties and beautiful, but so world-weary that he sometimes gave the impression of being a decade or so older. As a university professor, Dr. Nielsen had access to many who would easily satisfy his craving for youthful good looks. For some reason, the thought made Jimmy shiver.
"Um, I'd prefer not to divulge information on other clients, if you don't mind," Jimmy said. He didn't want to alienate Dr. Nielsen – after all, he was a generous and important client – but he also didn't want to share one client's business with another. Besides, even though there was no love lost between him and Cory, it was bad business to make one of the residents look bad.
"Well, I guess I'll just use my brains and conclude that yes, that is the young gentleman who was desperate to have his cherry popped and Cory was the only one around who could do it for him." Dr. Nielsen smirked, and Jimmy noted that the way the man's eyebrows wagged as he spoke was in and of itself obscenely suggestive. "That must mean Cory's free now. "
Dr. Nielsen quickly headed toward the stairs while Jimmy stared at him, open-mouthed and speechless. Jimmy started flapping his hands while he tried to form a coherent sentence. Dr. Nielsen turned to grin at him and said, "It's not necessary to ask Cory to meet me. It's not like I don't know my way there."
Completely discomfited, Jimmy dialed Cory's extension while he watched Dr. Nielsen climb the stairs, but no one picked up. He figured that Cory was probably still in the shower. Jimmy would bet anything that Cory would be pissed off if he discovered Dr. Nielsen in his room already when he emerged from his shower. On the other hand, if Cory had remembered to lock his door, Dr. Nielsen would likely be pissed, which might be even worse.
Jimmy had a sinking feeling that this would not turn out well.
* * *
While Jimmy was having an anxiety attack, Dr. Nielsen strode down the hallway toward Cory's room with a little extra bounce in his step. He always looked forward to his visits. They provided the spark and purpose the rest of his life lacked, mostly. It was fun to mess around with Cory; Dr. Nielsen had gotten him to the point where he would do whatever Nielsen asked without complaint.
Just barely refraining himself from rubbing his hands in glee like a cartoon villain, Dr. Nielsen halted outside Cory's door and knocked twice, not hard but not softly either. No answer. Perhaps Cory was in the shower?
This thought pleased him. He liked having the upper hand. Since he received no response to his knock, he tried the doorknob instead and discovered that the door was unlocked. He entered, chuckling at Cory's failure to take proper precautions against people like him barging in.
As he settled himself on the sofa, one leg crossed over the other, he could hear the sound of running water that emanated from the other side of the bathroom door. His suspicion was correct, then. Cory must be washing off the evidence of what he did with that kid.
It didn't matter to him whether Cory smelled like the well-used whore he was or as fresh as a daisy; he was simply tickled pink at the opportunity to catch Cory off guard. That was part of the special charm of their relationship: that he was able to keep streetwise Cory Sanzo, cynic extraordinaire and the son of a former colleague of his, off balance and without any inkling of his true motivation.
The bathroom door opened and Cory emerged, a towel wrapped around his midsection. He was drying his hair with another towel. Dr. Nielsen pouted a little bit; he'd been hoping to surprise him while he was completely naked to see what his reaction would be.
"My, my, what a pleasure to see you, Cory," Dr. Nielsen said with a suggestive lilt in his voice. He had by this time replaced the toothpick in his mouth with a lit cigarette.
"Go fuck yourself," Cory said, his voice half smothered by the towel he was using to dry his hair. He threw the towel through the open door onto the bathroom floor, combed his hair out with his fingers, and then crossed his arms while glaring at his guest.
Dr. Nielsen smiled, unperturbed. "I like feistiness in my subjects. It's not as much fun when they roll over and play dead right away. And the bit about fucking myself – don't you have that a teensy weensy bit backward?"
"You tell me, Doctor," Cory bit off. "I'm never quite sure what goes on during our sessions."
"Well, let's get on with it," Dr. Nielsen said. "But first put on your clothes. The unexpected interruption has thrown our schedule all to hell."
Cory didn't understand why Nielsen wanted him to get dressed if he was going to get undressed again, but it wasn't his to reason why. Figuring the good doctor would enjoy watching, and having long ago lost any sense of modesty about dressing and undressing in front of clients, he pulled on his jeans and tunic.
"You know the drill," Dr. Nielsen said. "Get a glass of water and come over here and sit next to me."
Cory did as he was told. Once he sat, the professor leaned over and gave him a peck on the cheek. Cory looked at him oddly.
"Since you made me wait, I think it's only fair that I get a kiss, something you don't normally give out," Nielsen remarked. He set his cigarette down in the ashtray and leaned over, nibbling his way up Cory's neck to his ear.
Cory sat stock-still and said hoarsely, "What, you want to kiss me?"
"Mmm," Nielsen said as he nipped at that delectable ear. "I want you to kiss me like you mean it."
"What? Fuck, no. I don't do that."
Nielsen pulled back and grinned. "You mean to tell me you didn't kiss the mouth of that delicious boy I saw leaving? His lips were all pouty and I could smell you on him. You don't know how that made me feel, either."
Cory mentally kicked himself for losing track of time and letting Gordon's session go on too long. "I'm sorry," he said in a monotone.
"You don't sound very sincere," Nielsen observed. When Cory responded with a start, he chuckled. "Smelling you on that kid didn't bother me. It excites me that other people desire you, that other people have you. I know you're a whore. All I care about is that you're my whore."
Cory closed his eyes, grimacing. It usually didn't bother him to be called a whore – hell, he called himself that often enough – but somehow Dr. Nielsen made it sound dirtier and more depraved than it really was.
Then again, the point of his sessions with Dr. Nielsen, to the extent there was a point that he understood, was control: for Dr. Nielsen to assume control and for Cory to relinquish it. That enabled Cory to forget everything that had happened since his father had been killed, and for that oblivion, that peace of mind, he was willing to do and endure nearly anything, even Dr. Nielsen's leers and molestation, even the hours of his life that he couldn't recall.
Concluding that it made no sense to maintain a strict 'no-kissing' policy with Nielsen, he leaned over, heading for the man's lips, but when he got there, Nielsen roughly thrust his tongue into Cory's mouth, exerting an amount of suction that forced him to admire the strength of Nielsen's jaw muscles, and explored his mouth so thoroughly that he was breathless and hard once Nielsen broke the kiss.
"The hell?" Cory said angrily. "You said you wanted me to kiss you."
Nielsen smirked. "I changed my mind." He loved messing with the kid.
He took a plastic pillbox out of his pocket, removed the capsule inside it, and handed it to Cory. "Here." They'd been doing this long enough that he didn't have to add "Take this" anymore. Cory knew the routine.
At first, Nielsen had injected the experimental concoction into Cory's thighs, but eventually Cory had objected that clients would notice the needle marks on his body, and even if the marks didn't look like typical addict's tracks, clients would think he was a junkie. Junkies weren't reliable; they stole from clients to feed their habit, didn't take care of themselves, and were disease carriers. He couldn't afford that kind of reputation.
Nielsen had to admit that Cory had a point, though it was far more difficult to formulate a capsule that functioned the same way as the injections, which was why he hadn't done it in the first place. They went through weeks of trial and error before he hit on the correct formulation.
That had been months ago, though, and Dr. Nielsen was excited and pleased at the latest results. After ten minutes or so, Cory responded as if he were hypnotized. He could move about and do things, but only at Nielsen's behest. Best of all, he reacted to what Nielsen told him while still maintaining a mental blank slate with no recollection of what happened. So no matter what Nielsen told him was going on, Cory would react as if it were really taking place.
The drug had other applications too. The level of mind control it permitted could be used for assassinations and other intriguing and potentially lucrative scenarios. Using it under those conditions had to wait until he was certain it worked, however; hence the use of Cory as a guinea pig. Given his profession, the most logical way of testing it on him was to give the illusion that they had sex; besides, Nielsen got off on it too, especially on the thought of controlling Cory's every reaction. He liked turning Cory into his very own living doll.
It was a win-win situation for everyone. Cory got the peace of mind he wanted, no matter how briefly, which seemed to reconcile him to the loss of chunks of time and his memories of them, and Nielsen got a willing subject and a pet who didn't even know to what extent he was one.
Within ten minutes of swallowing the capsule, Cory's face was blank, though he remained upright and didn't slump over like he had for a while.
"Take off your jeans," Nielsen told him, "so I can suck you off."
Cory complied without a word, his movements automatic. He sat back, legs spread, and responded as if Nielsen actually were kneeling on the floor sucking his cock.
Nielsen couldn't help himself; he sat on the floor in front of Cory with his legs crossed and touched the inside of Cory's thighs as Cory thrust and moaned, his hands grabbing at non-existent hair, until he shuddered and came. By this time, Nielsen had removed his shirt and put his glasses on the coffee table to catch Cory's spend on his naked torso, neck, and face. Once the come made contact with his skin, he ran a finger across the largest glob and licked languidly.
At times like this, he wished Cory could remain conscious. He'd like to see the ice prince's reaction. Would it turn Cory on to know that Nielsen liked being covered in Cory's come or to watch Nielsen lick it off his body, or would it leave him as indifferent as everything else seemed to?
"Lie down," Nielsen commanded, "and spread your legs. I'm going to fuck you."
Cory lay back on the sofa, his legs up in the air and spread. It was almost obscene to watch his body quiver and hear him moan when there was no one hovering above him, no one preparing him, no one thrusting inside him. He looked so vulnerable and ridiculous that Nielsen almost felt sorry for him. Almost, but not quite; Nielsen wasn't foolish enough to forget the real reason why Cory, and not someone else, was the subject of his experiments. The Spanish proverb had it right: revenge was a dish best served cold.
* * *
Meanwhile, Gordon's return to the desk to request another appointment with Cory temporarily made Jimmy forget his anxiety about Dr. Nielsen's visit. Jimmy snickered to himself, pleased but a little surprised that the session had gone that well. It was consistent with Cory running late for Dr. Nielsen's appointment, but it was unusual for Cory to get lost in the moment like that. It was even stranger because he hadn't been expecting the session and as a rule hated doing virgins.
Jimmy's unease returned. Surely Cory was exhibiting an unhealthy attachment to this kid if he was responding to him so uncharacteristically. He'd never expected Cory, of all people, to be susceptible to gentler feelings or, God forbid, to fall in love at first sight. Other residents had, but not hard-nosed, hard-edged Cory.
Gordon's voice brought him back to reality and brought him up short. "Is Cory available next Friday night – a week from tomorrow, I mean? We had a great time an' I really wanna see him again."
"Gordon," his friend with the credit card – Hakkai, Jimmy thought his name was – said warningly.
"Ah, yes," the boy said, the look on his face turning serious. "Unless I, like, win the lottery, this next time will be my last visit." He turned to Hakkai, threw his arms around him, and said "Thanks!"
"Don't mention it," Hakkai said, gingerly extricating himself from Gordon's crushing hug.
Jimmy had checked Cory's schedule by now. "How's ten o'clock sound? Would that work for you?"
"Cool!" Gordon said. "See ya then." And with a wave, he and his friends strolled out the door.
Jimmy continued scanning the schedule. Dr. Nielsen had an appointment on Saturday night, the day after Gordon's next visit. Jimmy thought that would work out better; he'd been seriously creeped out by the look Nielsen gave the kid.
* * *
Dr. Nielsen tiptoed out of the room. He had no way of locking the deadbolt, but he pushed in the button that locked the doorknob.
He left Cory slumped over and sleeping on the couch. He'd thought about carrying him over to and placing him on the bed in the corner, but decided it wasn't worth the effort.
Nielsen occasionally stayed until Cory woke up, so he already knew that Cory would probably remain asleep for another hour or two. He chuckled at the thought of Cory waking up to find himself naked and covered in drying semen. The sofa was marked with it too. Cory was just so messy.
Some of it was Nielsen's. Eventually, Nielsen would pull his cock out and come on Cory's body and on the sofa without bothering to clean either of them. Why should he? He did it because he enjoyed marking Cory and his furnishings. He was paying for Cory's time, after all. He might as well make the most of it.
Jimmy noticed Dr. Nielsen tiptoeing down the stairs as though he was trying to sneak out unnoticed. While there was no need for Nielsen to stop on his way out, the way he was acting gave Jimmy a creepy feeling.
"Everything all right?" Jimmy asked.
Dr. Nielsen stopped, fixed him with a sinister smile, and said, "Peachy keen".
Since the man at the desk seemed to expect more, he added, "Cory's sleeping it off. He's a bit tired from our exertions." Nielsen liked to give the impression that he and Cory fucked like bunnies.
"See you next week," Jimmy said.
"I look forward to it," Dr. Nielsen replied, and continued on his way out.
Next: We spend some time at the fraternity house where Gordon, Hakkai, and JoJo live, and Gordon has his second, and last, appointment with Cory.