Here, take some poppers.”He offered me the bottle even as my mind took in what he’d said and I realised I was being fucked raw by a poz cock.I too... a sniff and felt myself relax into it. He was sliding rhythmically in and out, all the time talking to me as if we were waiting for a bus or something. It was bizarre, and yet it seemed to distract me from worrying about what I was doing.Suddenly, the door opened and the pudgy guy from the front desk came in with a black bin-liner.“Don’t mind me!”. Sloane. He held up the brain-wave tapes. Dr. Cohen took them and peered at them, squinting through black horn-rimmed glasses. ‘You see,’ he was pointing at something on the tapes. They muttered and murmured, studying the tapes. Then Dr. Cohen put one of those little lights in my eyes and studied my eyeballs. ‘Um,’ he said, and snapped off the light. ‘Difficult to say. Um. Possible, of course. Better try a carotid angiogram.’ ‘What the hell are you looking for?’ I asked. ‘Possible subdural. More

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