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“I asked you to report to me because I have a few things to discuss with you. You have no health records to go over, so I’ll have to check over a few things myself.”

“Well, I am technically dead,” Jason said. “So I’m not sure how useful that report would be.”

Cheshire ignored him sanguinely. “I’ve noticed, as has the Headmistress, that you seem to have trouble concentrating. You daydream while your peers are engaged with the material.” Her eyes darted downward. “You show other signs of not having your mind on your studies, as well.”

Jason grinned wryly. Hard to help himself when some of the teachers were the type he wouldn’t mind keeping him after class. Not to mention the other students. He could do a fair bit of homework with them.

“We need to determine your health,” Cheshire continued. “It’s possible you aren’t eating properly, or are not getting enough sleep or exercise.”

“Didn’t you check with Blackrock?” Jason asked. “I’ve been getting plenty of exercise.”

“I am a licensed physician, so I will check the more overt matters as best I can until your health records can be obtained. We’ll start by taking your temperature.” Cheshire produced a thermometer. “Just hold this in your mouth while I run down my checklist. Nod your head or shake it in response to my questions. Don’t take the thermometer out of your mouth until you’re told.”

Jason nodded gamely, wondering what she was up to. It was obvious he wasn’t running a temperature—he was cool as a cucumber. And he really doubted ‘not sure if attending physician is wearing panties’ was on her list.

Cheshire picked up a pen and clipboard once she’d seated the thermometer until his tongue. “Have you felt feverish? No. Headaches? No. Difficulty focusing your eyes or reading? No. Stiff neck. No…”

She went on and on, Jason shaking his head no each time, letting himself be lulled into the routine as he imagined the wrap-around kimono falling open, exposing her breasts, her flat stomach, what little hair she’d have on her cunt. He’d been with Asian women before, but not any that were mixed race. He wondered what the blend of Vietnamese and French heritage—if her file was to be believed—would do for her. It’d already given her an exotic, lushly featured face, full of mischief and promise. And while her body was as lithe as a Japanese schoolgirl’s, her breasts had the fullness of a European woman. It was an intriguing combination. Like a Jameson & Ginger. And her temperament… oof! No telling what that would be. Was it aloofness all the way down, or was there a streak of submissiveness in her? Or maybe the easily aroused exuberance of a Frenchwoman.

“Have you noticed any pain or discomfort when ejaculating?” Cheshire said at last.

Roy caught himself as he shook his head, the back of his neck burning up to his ears. Now there was a question to ask!

“Oh, I’m embarrassing you. I’m sorry,” Cheshire said with mocking forthrightness. “But you really must answer. Have you noticed any pain when you cum?”

The filthy word dripped of her accent. Lightly French, incongruous and exciting coming from a face dominated by the Pacific Rim. He eyed Cheshire suspiciously as he shook his head once more. Was she trying to humiliate him? It wasn’t working. It was turning him on, actually. He thought of whipping it out and showing her just how painless it was for him.

“Good. Now, approximately how many times a week do you ejaculate, either through masturbation, wet dreams, or—“ Cheshire looked up slowly from her checklist. “Intimate contact?”

Jason stared back at her, making an exaggerated show of thinking. Like it was hard to fastball a number. She broke into a grin, as if she’d been joking, but when she spoke her voice was deathly serious.

“Oh dear. I’m sorry. You can’t answer with a thermometer in your mouth, can you? Silly of me.” She took the thermometer away, beaconing a radiant smile at him as she dragged it over his lower lip. His cock was swelling up like a bastard, stuck in his trousers and aching like hell.

“Define intimate,” Jason said.

“Oh, you know—hand-to-genital contact. Mouth-to-genital contact. Any other form of genital stimulation involving a second party.”

“Genital-to-genital contact?”

“Yes.”

“Anus-to-genital contact?”

“Yes.”

“What if there’s no contact, but when I ejaculate—“ Jason paused a moment. “It lands on a second party. On her face or breasts.”

“Just so long as you cum. That’s the important thing.”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

“Jason, you haven’t answered my question.”

“Uh, I don’t know, maybe once a month?”

Cheshire’s eyebrows shot up in amusement. “That is surprising. Perhaps we’ve touched on what’s troubling you. From your youth, I would judge you to be at the peak of sexual maturity. A boy your age usually has to relieve his sexual tensions at least once a day. Or even more frequently.”

“Maybe I just cum a lot. When I do cum.”

She smiled at him coyly. “Now Jason, surely you must ejaculate far more frequently than that. You’re a very attractive young man, in a very uninhibited world. Even if you can’t find female companionship, I bet you—what do you boys call it—jerking off? Beating your meat? Tell the truth now. Don’t you jerk off more than once a month? Don’t you come more than once a month?”

“I don’t masturbate at all,” Jason said sardonically. “I save it all for that one lucky—second party.”

“You know there’s nothing wrong with it. It won’t make you go blind, you know.”

“Care to prove that?” Jason asked.