After a four-hour drive, I was thankful to finally park in the deck adjoining the hotel. Apparently, there was some kind of convention going on, judging from the crowds of people with matching name tags standing outside or going into the hotel, and spaces were scarce. Even though everything I was bringing to the scene was concealed inside a gym bag, I couldn’t help but feel self conscious, as if someone could pick me out of the crowd and suspect I was showing up for the express purpose of being stripped naked and dominated. As I approached the parking deck elevator that led to the lobby, I texted Dr. Dave to let him know I arrived.

“Room 815. We have a suite. Come on up.”

The elevators leading to the hotel rooms were glass, giving visitors a view of the atrium and restaurant area of the building. I was the first to get on, but the car quickly filled up. I kept telling myself to try to not be visibly nervous, even though I felt exposed and watched on the ride up and hoped that I’d be the only one getting off on the eighth floor.

No such luck. There were five other guests who exited with me, and I tried to take advantage of my position in the back of the car to slowly follow them out and down the hall. Three of them were going to rooms on my side of the floor, and when I got to 815, I saw that it had windows facing the hallway—great if you wanted to let light in from the atrium—and that the blackout curtains were drawn, so I couldn’t even take a peek to double check myself to make sure I had the right room. Dr. Dave had also hung the hotel’s Do Not Disturb sign on the doorknob. Figuring that it would look worse to loiter outside than to blatantly someone who, to the unknowing people nearby, didn’t want to be bothered, I quietly knocked and was quickly welcomed in by Dr. Dave. He was wearing khakis and a blue, button-down dress shirt. Even if he wasn’t wearing a lab coat, he looked the part.

The main living area was warmly lit and calming, although the white cover on Dr. Dave’s field medical chair stood out, and my heart started thumping. The kitchenette was little more than a countertop with a sink, and with a microwave and mini fridge hidden below, but it was a perfect staging area for aluminum trays lined with paper and with all manner of metal toys and tools catching the light.

We had connected so many times before, I knew that he would keep small talk to a bare minimum and we could shoot the breeze after we wrapped the scene.

“Hey, buddy! It’s been a while,” Dr. Dave said, giving me hug. “Is that bag for me to look through?”

I nodded.

“Great. OK, because you indicated in your pre-exam paperwork that you would be OK with having a third in the room, I’ve invited Dr. Jeff to join us today.” Did I really do that? Dr. Dave handed me a clipboard with a printout of the forms I had filled out, and sure enough, I had indicated that I wanted a third in the room, either doctor or patient, and, given the options of inviting a friend or giving Dr. Dave the decision-making power, I threw my faith into Dr. Dave.

“He’s been a patient of mine for years. Not as long as you, but when he told me he was thinking about trying the doctor role, I thought this would be a perfect way to talk through how I approach a scene. I’m sure you know how hard it is to find a role play doc anywhere. But is this arrangement still OK with you?”

It was. And I absolutely knew how hard it was indulging a niche kink. “Yeah, totally fine,” I said.”

“Great. So, he’s running a little late and I need some time to look through your bag and figure out what I’ll use. Would you hang out in the lobby for, say, 20 minutes—maybe grab some water if you didn’t have a chance to prep—and I’ll text you to come up and we can begin?”

Of course I said yes, and was thankful that no one was in the hallway to see me step out after being in there for a few minutes. I made my way down to the lobby and to the small convenience shop, purchased a large bottled water even though I was already starting to feel the effects of what I drank on the drive over. Taking a seat nearby, I did my best to shut out the noise around me, taking a few deep breaths to calm my nerves and clear my mind. It didn’t last long because I soon felt the vibration from a new text message.

“Come on up.”

The hotel was quieter—maybe the convention program was going on—and I was able to center my thoughts on how excited and happy I felt as I quickly made my way back up to the eighth floor.