Hunting Dr. Weiss

* * * *

An hour later I was facing the man who had fucked me in the shower, and both of us were managing to keep straight faces and act like this was a first meeting. The senior staff had a custom of meeting for drinks and a review of the day for an hour before dinner. In the rainy season, they met in the commodious living room of Dr. Weiss's bungalow. In the dry season, as it now was, they met on folding lawn chairs on his front lawn around an open pit fire. This evening had been given over to Andre taking photos and starting with questions for the People magazine article. I was there to take notes.

My shower buddy turned out to be a surgeon, from France, Chase Clauson, who had only been in residence for three weeks. When I looked quizzical about him being French but also being some proportion of black, he volunteered, "Senegal was once a French colony. One of my great grandmothers was married to a French colonialist and went back to Paris with him. The French are egalitarian that way. Even the native-born people in French colonies were fully French citizens and welcomed in France proper. This is the first time I've set foot in Senegal, though."

Clauson was a beautiful man and, as I'd already found out, a real stud, but the man who was the most commanding presence here was Dr. Gunther Weiss himself. There was no doubt that he saw himself as totally in charge and that no one here challenged him for that position.

He had the aspect of the Grim Reaper. He was old, for starters, but there was no question of him being in control, vigorous, and sharp witted and tongued. He dominated the conversation. And he didn't permit me to fade into the background, either. He cast his piercing gaze on me as much as on anyone else, and I felt the need to give him both a concise and fully responsive answer to every question he posed to me.

"You are a bit young to be a magazine writer," he said at one point in a tone that seemed to question my right to exist—and, most important, to be here intruding on his work, but did so without sounding unreasonable.

Andre came to my defense. "Jacques is quite a talented young man," he said, "and he isn't as young as he looks. He's twenty-two. I think you'll be pleased with what he can do."

"I certainly hope so," Weiss answered.

I don't think I took that exchange as it was meant at the time.

Only young men were serving our drinks and the "sweet and savories" that went with them during this cocktail hour. They all were Senegalese and all were beautiful young men, clothed only in shorts. To my surprise, though, most of them had the welts on their chests and backs that I had noted earlier. It made me wonder again if such mutilation was part of a coming-of-age ritual in the local tribes. One young man wasn't wounded in this way, though, and after looking closely, I thought I recognized him.

I turned to Andre, who was sitting on my right and said, "Wasn't that young man with the family that arrived the same time we did today?" but it was Clauson, on my left, who answered, getting my attention by lightly touching my forearm with two fingers and sending a shudder of remembrance and want through my body.

"Yes, Amir just arrived today. His father is going to be treated—for free, of course—but other members of the family are asked to serve in some capacity, by Dr. Weiss's choice, while they are here to help compensate for the food and lodging we give them." I could tell that wasn't all that Clauson wanted to say to me, though, and shortly thereafter when Andre and Weiss were conversing, Clauson touched my arm again and spoke in sotto voce. "I do need to talk to you—and more. I have two surgeries after dinner, though, so it will have to be tomorrow. Meet me at the front gate, please, a half hour before the afternoon rest period starts. If anyone asks, I'll be showing you the nearby river. And that's what I'll do, but we also will have a chance to fuck."

With that, he turned his attention fully to the discussion Andre was leading now with his questions about Dr. Weiss's clinic and I went back to fulfilling my responsibility to take notes and to think of angles to approach the People article from.

After dinner, Andre said, "You can go back to the hut and enter your notes into the laptop. I have interviewing to do with Dr. Weiss, but I've clearly got the signal that he wants that done in private, just the two of us. I'll discern what he's willing to see in print and I'll give you those notes to use to adjust your notes in the laptop."

"I can do that tomorrow, during the rest period, in the administrative offices," I said before leaving the dining hall. "That way you can nap tomorrow afternoon without interruption."

Happily, Andre bought that. I went back to the hut and luxuriated in being alone for the evening so that I could dream of Chase Clauson's magnificent body and masturbate myself to sleep.

I slept, but I woke in the night. Andre was in the other cot and was snoring loudly, which is what must have awakened me. I wasn't going to go back to sleep until he turned on his side. I didn't want to go over and turn him on his side, because I wasn't in the mood for sex with him, and if he woke, that's what would happen.

I quietly rose from the bed, slipped on my shorts and sneakers, and went out into the compound to walk off the energy that was coursing through my body. The compound was quiet, asleep. There was a light on in Dr. Weiss's house and I heard sounds coming from the house. They sounded like moaning and some sort of snapping sound. I was drawn to it, and I walked to where I could look into the window of the room light was coming from.

I no sooner focused my eyes on the scene in the room when I too let out a moan and withdrew a few steps. But what the doctor was doing mesmerized me, and I was riveted to the spot for several minutes.

Dr. Weiss was naked and in upcurved erection. He was holding a multithonged whip in one hand. A small, naked, brown body was spread-eagled on a double bed, wrists and ankles restrained at the four corners of the bed. The young man was lying on his belly, but his face was turned to the window, and I recognized the young man by the birthmark under one of his eyes. It was the young Senegalese man who had arrived at the compound with his family at the same time that afternoon that Andre and I had arrived—the same young man who served drinks at the senior staff cocktail hour late the previous afternoon.

I had marked him at the time as the only young Senegalese man servicing who didn't have welt marks on his body. That no longer was the case. He had welt marks on his back and the backs of his thighs now. He was moaning and quietly sobbing.

As I watched, Weiss dropped the whip, climbed up on the bed, positioned himself between the young man's spread legs, fed his cock into the bound man's ass, and started to fuck him.

I pulled away then and stumbled back to my hut. This was more of the doctor's so-called humanitarian operations than I had ever wanted to see.

* * * *

We were lying in an area of beaten-down grass stalks, Chase Clauson on top of me, his legs parting mine, when we paused at the sounds of the motors of vehicles and the sounds of loud voices yelling from the nearby clinic compound. We couldn't see the compound from this spot on the river bank in a field of tall grass, nor could we be seen from the compound. The depression we were in no doubt had been beaten down by wild animals coming to the side of the river to drink.

"What—?" I murmured.

"Shush. Think only of us, here, now. Me inside you," Chase whispered.

He, indeed, was inside me, having taken his time—our time—in foreplay of kissing and fondling and licking and sucking until, with sighs, I opened my legs to him and begged him to fuck me. For many moments after that, all I could think on was that black shaft of resilient steel moving up inside me, causing my channel to spread and shimmer, the muscles of my passage walls to undulate over his cock, drawing it deeper inside me, and my pelvis to move with the rhythm of his penetration. His weight was on his knees between my legs, which were bent, the heels of my feet rubbing on his flexing buttocks, and one of his arms ran under my neck, pillowing my head as he looked down into my eyes. The hand of his other arm was slow stroking my cock and fondling and squeezing my balls, coaxing up my ejaculation.

The sounds of commotion had arrested him when we were both close to climax and we had to retreat a bit to build up toward the sought mutual explosion. Neither of us regretted the need from a second buildup in arousal to reach mutual satisfaction.

Concentrating on the fuck, as he had bid me to do, I managed to push the sounds of commotion from the compound into the back of my mind until after we had both tensed; jerked, almost in synchronization; and shot our wads.

"Now, will you tell me why you weren't disturbed by the sounds from the compound?" I said. "It sounds like a raid of some sort. And will you get off me now? You're heavy."

"It is a raid. That's why I coaxed you out here—so you wouldn't be taken up in it. And, no I won't get off you. I plan to fuck you again."

"I don't understand."

"You turn me on. I want to fuck you again."

"No, not that. The raid. Why I needed to be brought out here. Why you aren't in there. Why there's a raid at all."

"I'm covering you close because I don't want you jumping up and going back there to get involved in what's going on. I'm a doctor, yes. But I'm more than that. I'm an investigator for Interpol," Chase said. "Interpol's been hunting Dr. Weiss down for years—looking for evidence that he preys on young black men, not all of whom are ever seen again after he's used them. He's left questions and investigations from Vienna and London, on to Geneva and Tangier, and now to here. I've been here to document his activities enough for the Senegalese government to become alarmed and to move to close him down."

"But what does that have to do with me?"

"Do you have any idea what Dr. Weiss likes to do with beautiful young black men?"

Then I surprised him. "Yes, maybe. I went for a walk last night. I saw him whip and fuck one of the young men who had come in with a patient yesterday."

"Ah, yes, Amir. So, you should know then. Families here will do anything to get proper medical care for one of their own—especially the seniors of the family unit. Weiss doesn't require money in exchange, but he requires something else. The young man you saw last night would have been providing the something else. Usually we couldn't touch Weiss for his sexual predatory ways. Most young men agree to it to get medical attention for their loved ones. But there have been times when Weiss has crossed that line and his prey has disappeared."

"I understand that. But, again, why did I have to be taken away? I'm just here to write a magazine article on the doctor and his clinic. If you thought I needed to be absent for the raid, why not my colleague, Andre Jackson, too?"

"I don't think you are making the probable connection between you, Andre Jackson, and Dr. Weiss's predilections."

"I don't see any—"

"Weiss preys on beautiful young black men. Some come to him willingly. Others are brought to him unwitting. You are a beautiful young black man. Dr. Weiss and Andre Jackson aren't strangers to each other. Jackson has brought young men to Weiss before—and all of those men have disappeared afterward. Are you seeing why I've done what I have now? It was for your protection."

"I see," I answered. And then I certainly did see, and I know now why it was evident that Weiss and Andre seemed to have been acquainted already when we arrived the other day. And it explained why Andre was as interested in the sexual side of me as my writing ability when he recruited me in New York.

"I'll help you find your way back to New York," Clauson said. "Although you might like to come to Paris with me for a while before returning home."

"The Clinic."

"I've already arranged with Doctors Without Borders for a nonprofit to take over Weiss's clinic here. It's self-sustaining. It needed his name to get started, but now I think it will have enough backing to continue with the rest of the staff they have here. We can keep all of this quiet. Dr. Weiss can just drop out of sight and none of his sexual proclivities need be associated with the clinic's good work. Weiss was getting to the point where he would have had to retire from it anyway. I think he only was hanging on to maintain his procurement chain."

"Andre. What about—?"

"I didn't bring Jackson out of the compound during the raid because he has much to answer to, as well. I'll leave it to the Senegalese government to sort him out. All I want you to think about now is to concentrate on the fact that I'm hard inside you again."

"You did say you were going to fuck me again," I murmured.

And then he did.

I did make it back to New York six weeks later, right on time for when Andre had estimated the assignment would be finished. I'd gotten the eight-thousand-dollar fee up front and neither Andre nor anyone else was in the position to ask for it back—and I figured I'd earned it—so I kept it. I wrote up an article on Dr. Weiss's work in Senegal, leaving out the extracurricular stuff, and sent it off the People magazine to do with it as they wished. They published extracts of it in an abbreviated side bar. On top of that, I'd sent several feature stories back to the Gay City News on the gay nightlife and lifestyle in Paris that I'd researched from a month of living with and being fucked by Chase Clauson in the City of Lights.

The publishers of the Gay City News were quite pleased with my articles and paid well for them. When I returned to New York, Phil was quite contrite for having introduced me to Andre. I hit him for a raise and he eagerly granted that. He wanted to resume fucking me, but I said I'd moved on to other types of men. What I wanted now was a hung, black Frenchman. I had a standing invitation to visit one of those in Paris—or anywhere else in the world that Chase was working as either a doctor or an Interpol agent.