This story is entirely fictional, and any resemblances to actual persons are completely coincidental. Actual locations are mentioned, and are used for 'background' only.
'Phalen - Finding Happiness' Chapter fifteen
by Roy Reinikainen
The late afternoon sunlight glinted off the polished surface of the desk, casting a diffuse glow over Larry who was oblivious to his surroundings as he spoke on the telephone. Greg stretched his legs out in front of him and closed his eyes for a moment, welcoming the quiet. He was exhausted, both from a hard day at the Athletic Clinic, and the burden of not knowing what, if anything, Dustin might be doing to cause further damage to his reputation as a physician.
'Drugs,' he thought to himself, shaking his head and causing Larry to look up a moment before he shook his head in disbelieving frustration at the difficulty he was having getting any information. Not only were drugs causing him trouble, they were making Phalen's life miserable as well. And when Phalen was miserable, Jeff was unhappy, which made his house a distressingly unpleasant place to be living. He'd made an escape to the peace and quiet of Larry's house claiming he had to check up on any progress Larry might have made on his case. As he left the house, Jeff and Phalen had retreated into the bedroom.
It had been fun watching Larry try to cajole information about Dustin from the University police, especially since he didn't even know Dustin's last name. "They won't even tell me how many guys named Dustin are enrolled," he groused between calls. Larry had even tried getting information from the Athletic Clinic where Greg worked, and where Dustin had served as a temporary staff person, to no avail.
'I'd be shouting by now, but Larry is so calm.' Greg grinned to himself, as he compared the man in front of him with his son. Both had the same sense of playfulness. From time to time during his search for information, Larry would look up and smile, or roll his eyes and then wink. It appeared the latest attempt at information gathering had been as unsuccessful as the others. He sighed and hung up the phone.
"I'm all for keeping student records private." He grinned sheepishly, his dimples flashing. "Except when I want to see them." He leaned back in his large leather chair, idly twisting from side to side, silently watching Greg in the fading light. Finally, Greg spoke, his voice warm and soothing, as the soft yellow light in the room faded and the palms outside the office window became silhouettes against the suddenly flaming desert sky.
"I like this." Greg's vague gesture encompassed the scene outside the windows, the office . . . as well as the man across the desk. "The peace and quiet," he added when Larry raised his eyebrows in silent inquiry.
"You . . . this house, everything here is so . . . restful. There's always so much going on both at work and over at Jeff's, I sometimes go for a walk just to have some quiet. Even then, everything's so much noisier than back in Helsinki." He sighed and stared into the distance. "I miss the quiet . . . and the green." He hesitated a moment. "And the water," he added with a sheepish grin. "Of course, now I know where to come when I want some peace and quiet." Larry grinned and let Greg continue to speak, taking note of Greg's sparkling dark blue eyes which danced with suppressed laughter.
"People are always dropping in and taking their clothes off." He chuckled. "I was thinking of Jeff's, but it is also true at work." Larry snorted a soft laugh. Greg's playful grin slowly faded as he silently looked out the office window to the dull glow on the horizon.
"I can just imagine when Mother and Dad come for a visit and Jeff and Phalen's friends come over. You see, Mother is not a big fan of other people being naked, to say nothing of herself. It's Dad and Jeff who have always had trouble staying dressed . . . and Phalen."
"And me," Larry added, "at least whenever I'm over there. I've learned how good being naked around other men can feel." Greg gave Larry a wistful smile.
"Greg, you seem in an especially melancholy mood this evening. Other than everything going on with this Dustin character, are you happy being here? I mean, in this country."
Greg thought before he answered, staring into the distance and running the forefinger of his right hand back and forth on the arm of the chair, a behavior identical to Jeff's. When Greg looked up, any thoughts that Larry was watching Jeff were dispelled by the intensity of the dark blue eyes, almost hidden in the dimly lit room.
"Yes, I'm happy. I've loosened up a lot since arriving, which is a very good thing, as far as I'm concerned. Phalen and Jeff have had a lot to do with that, but mostly it's been because of Curt. He's peaceful, like you. He listens, and accepts me as I am, a highly inhibited, slightly confused man who, until recently, couldn't admit even to himself, that he is gay." Larry smiled at Greg's description of himself, at the same time he was captivated by the accent and the soft voice. Greg grinned. "Having said that, I do like to have fun . . . and laugh. Curt's been good in that respect, as well."
"I've met Curt a few times. He seems like a good guy."
"He is." Greg settled back into his chair, resting his bare arms on the arms of the chair, splaying his fingers over the leather in the same way Jeff had done many times, while sitting in the same chair.
"You care for him a great deal, don't you . . . Curt, I mean."
Greg gave Larry a crooked grin and nodded. "I do, a great deal."
"But?"
Larry's question was answered with a shrug. "I don't love him." He snorted a soft laugh. "My relationship with Curt has been good for both of us. I needed someone to tell me that I'm an okay guy. I don't have to be perfect all the time. I shouldn't let what other people think of me shape the way I behave. I guess . . . I guess, Curt's telling me it's okay to . . ." He hesitated, trying to think of the correct words. "I guess, I'm learning to love myself, just as Curt is learning that he is no longer the same man who hurt Brad so badly."
He took a deep breath. "That's a lot of what being gay is all about isn't it?"
Larry made an inquiring sound.
"Learning to love oneself. We can't expect others to love us until we are comfortable with who we are."
Greg shifted in his seat, stretching his legs out in front of him, crossing them at the ankles and rested his head back against his interlaced fingers. "It's funny how Curt and I can learn so much by being quiet. Sometimes, we'll spend an evening sitting on the balcony of his condominium, holding hands, in silence." Greg gave Larry a bashful look. "It's so . . . restful."
"It's funny," Larry said, sitting forward and switching on a desk lamp. Greg frowned and squinted at the bright intrusion. Larry quickly dimmed the light until it was only bright enough for them to see one another, flicking Greg a glance of apology.
"I was just thinking how sitting here, talking with you feels much like visiting with Jeff. You look and sound so much like him."
Greg's frown returned. "I'm not Jeff, Larry. He and I may resemble one another, and we may sound alike, but we are very different. I'm not Jeff. Remember that." He squeezed the arms of the chair and, continued to speak.
"Whenever I'm with Curt, I sometimes feel as if he wishes I was Brad. Now, it seems as if you could begin to think of me as Jeff. I'm not Brad. I'm not Jeff. I'm Greg!" He flopped back in the chair, leaning his head back with a frustrated sigh.
Larry seemed surprised by the vehemence of the response. There was nothing he could say. "I . . . realize, that. I will cease making comparisons."
Greg seemed to relax, slowly rubbing his forehead. His eyes remained closed as he spoke.
"You love him, don't you? Jeff, I mean." Larry's eyes widened slightly, but he said nothing, trying not to squirm as Greg studied him. "I've seen how you look at him, how you touch him when the two of you are greeting one another, or are saying good bye." When Greg opened his eyes they were as troubled as his thoughts. "He's important to you, isn't he, more than just being your son's partner?"
Larry nodded. "He's like another son. I love him." Greg studied him in silence for a few moments longer.
"Does Phalen know . . . how you feel?"
Larry slowly nodded, his head still bowed. "Yes. He, Jeff and I have talked about . . . how I feel." He looked up. "I . . . I'd never . . . do anything . . . even if Jeff would agree, which he never would. I'd never suggest it." After a long moment, he chuckled softly.
"I thought I'd pretty much put those feelings behind me. Then, I met you, and they're back. I'm not sure why." He took an unsteady breath, giving Greg a crooked grin. "I can assure you though, that you've made yourself understood. I apologize for comparing you with your brother."
"Once this business with Dustin has been settled, I'd like to get to know Greg, the person. I think I could come to like him very much." The room was silent for a long moment as the two men studied one another.
"You love both Jeff and Brad." Larry reluctantly nodded. "If you develop any sort of feelings for me it would only be trouble. I'd wonder if I was a substitute for Jeff. I don't want to be that. When someone . . . eventually . . . tells me they love me, I want to know that they're loving Greg." He gave Larry a crooked smile.
"You know, Jeff has always claimed to be intimidated by me, to be afraid I'll run over him without even knowing it. That's not the case at all. I'm the one who is finding it difficult not to become lost in his shadow."
Greg looked up and stopped his musings. "Listen to me," he said with some exasperation. "I must be more tired than I thought. In just a few short minutes, I've come into your house and told you how to run your love life, criticized you for comparing me with my brother, told you not to develop feelings for me, and then told you how restful you are." He barked a laugh. "No wonder you're restful. I'm the one doing the talking!"
He slapped the arms of the chair and stood. "Thank you for the nice visit. We didn't do too much talking about Dustin, did we?"
"Not much to tell. Your supervisors have cleared your name at the Clinic. That's all we can say for sure, right now. As to whether he's making mischief somewhere else, we don't yet know, but if we find he is . . . we'll take care of that as the need arises."
Larry walked around his desk and rested an arm over Greg's shoulders as they walked through the darkened house to the front door.
As they reached the door, Greg turned. "May I give my attorney a hug?" Larry stepped into the embrace, relaxing into Greg's strength and warmth. He nuzzled Greg's dark hair, inhaling his scent. The experience was intoxicating.
For his part, Greg seemed to be as reluctant as Larry for the embrace to end. When they separated he swallowed once and gave Greg a crooked grin, his dimples flashing and his eyes sparkling.
"That's what I call a hug."
Greg nodded slowly and patted Larry on the back. "I enjoyed it as well."
Dustin looked over his shoulder, convinced he was being followed. During the past week, life had become hell. The guys on the baseball team he'd been selling stuff to were nowhere to be found. They should be climbing the walls by now, screaming for him to deliver their pills, but they had simply disappeared. He'd even gone to their apartments, driven to desperation by the demands of his supplier for money and to pick up the scheduled assortment of drugs. Their roommates didn't have a clue where they had gone, and didn't seem particularly disturbed by their friends' disappearance.
Hugh Benford's threatening telephone call claiming he had gotten him and Morrison hooked had been playing over and over in Dustin's mind. Benford had claimed he was being followed, and shouted if he and his friend were caught, they'd make sure Dustin would be as well. He huffed a disgusted laugh. 'Weakling,' he muttered, thinking of Benford's telephone call. 'No backbone at all. Always blaming other people for his own shortcomings.' That's what he should have told Benford.
Still . . . what if the guys had been followed and were now spilling their guts to the police? Dustin looked over his shoulder again, telling himself he was imagining he was being followed. The shadowy figures he caught out of the corner of his eyes disappeared whenever he turned to look. Still, he wasn't convinced they weren't there. He jumped as a police car sped past with its siren screaming and lights flashing.
'Did that cop turn to look at me as they passed?'
He nervously called his supplier, cursing the shaking hand holding the phone. 'I don't understand.' When it became obvious there would be no answer, he closed the phone and shoved it into a pocket. 'Even they aren't answering their calls!'
Whenever he was angry, his thoughts, as always, returned to Curt. 'He's probably sitting at home, or is out with one of his boyfriends.' Dustin slammed the door to his parents' house and stalked through the kitchen to his bedroom. 'Curt's always having a good time. He's never had any problems! He's so perfect . . . driving around in that fancy car of his. He's had all the breaks, and what's left for me?'
'I've always been the one who's ignored . . . the second son . . . second best.' The pillow he tossed across the room hit close to the place where he had put his fist through the wall. The sight of the ragged dark hole made him even angrier. The dull thud of the shoe he kicked across the room as it hit the wall only served to inflame his temper further.
'Curt's the problem in my life. I'll show 'im.'
He dumped any evidence of ever having had drugs in his room into a gym bag he dug out of his closet, pleased with the plan to get his brother into trouble, which was beginning to take shape.
He chuckled as he tossed some of Curt's clothes from his old room into the bag. 'More evidence.' The thought of getting Curt into trouble was almost more satisfying than his scheme to get that foreign doctor at the clinic into trouble. He paused to wonder what had come of that scheme. Some unusual sounds from outside briefly caught his attention, but were easily dismissed as the warm feeling of revenge recaptured his thoughts.
'I wonder what his boss'll think when he learns his star employee is a druggie?' The thought of Curt being called into the office and being summarily fired was almost enough to make him chuckle in anticipation. 'Maybe the cops would like to know, too.' He did a quick scan of his bedroom, looking for any other evidence which needed to be removed, and was whistling a tune as he left his room and walked down the hallway.
His mother was standing at the living room window with a frightened expression on her face, looking at something through the large living room window. She turned to face him as he came into the room, tearing her eyes from whatever was going on outside.
Her voice was hoarse. "Dustin . . ."
The doorbell and a loud knocking, interrupted her from saying anything more. Next came a demanding voice. "It's the police. The house is surrounded. Anyone inside should immediately exit with their arms in the air."
His mother's frightened eyes fixed first on the front door and the source of the orders, before moving to his face. She studied him for a moment and then looked to the gym bag he dropped at his feet. She brought her hand to her mouth, muffling a pitiful squeak.
"Dustin . . . ?"
There was another loud rap on the door, followed by an even louder demand to leave the house. Dustin could see curious neighbors gathering across the street, as well as a police officer making a useless attempt to shoo them away. He'd always hated those people. He turned to his mother, grinding his teeth in anger at her lack of support, as two more squad cars arrived and disgorged their contents.
Dustin's lips curled with contempt as he watched his mother wring her hands, looking from the still-closed door, to him. 'She should be doing something to protect me!'
'If the police were here demanding Curt, she'd be doing everything she could think of to protect him! Me, she throws to the dogs, the second son . . . second best, not worth the effort to fight for.'
He hated how she finally, calmly turned her back on him and walked to the front door of the house, pausing a moment as if steeling herself for what was to come. She straightened her back, brushed her fingers through her hair and glanced over her shoulder with an unreadable expression, a combination of resolve, pity, and farewell, and then turned the door knob.
"My son." She paused, and started over. "Only one other person and I are home." She slowly opened the screen door and stepped outside with her arms in the air.
'Just like in the movies,' was Dustin's thought as she left the house. He could hear the murmur of the neighbors' voices, as well as his mother's calm voice, presumably answering questions. A moment later he saw her step into a group of neighborhood women who escorted her away. She paused a moment and looked over her shoulder, back to the house, before turning away, leaving him to his fate.
"Abandoned," Dustin muttered to himself, as he watched her walk away, a moment before the screen door swung open and two armed police officers jumped into the living room with drawn weapons. He bowed his head as the officers grabbed his limply hanging arms and began reading him his rights.
'Just like in the movies . . ."
Larry retraced his steps to his dimly lit office, standing a moment and running his fingertips over the back of the chair where Greg had been sitting. He fancied he could still feel the warmth of Greg's body suffusing the leather. He sighed, turned out the desk light, and sank into the warmth of his large leather desk chair, and began idly rotating from side to side in silence.
He could still feel the strength of Greg's embrace. During that brief time, as Greg rested his head on Larry's shoulder, their bodies had molded to one another. It felt so good to be held like that, a fantasy finally fulfilled. When he'd been seeing Andrew, the hugs were frequent, but brief . . . never really satisfying. He had just gotten out of a loveless marriage, and felt any hug was better than the cold indifference he'd experienced from his wife for close to eighteen years. To Andrew, the physical contact was taken for granted, something he did without thinking . . . like breathing . . . or blinking, unimportant precisely because he did it so often.
Brad . . . sensitive Brad. Larry bowed his head and massaged the back of his neck. Brad is wonderful. He's everything a man could ask for in a partner. But, he's in love with someone else . . . with Curt. Each time he and Brad embraced, Larry was left wondering if part of Brad's mind was wishing he was holding Curt. Long ago, Larry admitted to himself that he loved Brad. That's why it hurt so badly each time Brad got that distant look in his eyes. It was a situation which was not good for him, and he felt certain even less so for a sensitive soul like Brad.
When Greg held him in his arms though, things felt . . . right. The experience was almost orgasmic in its intensity. Unlike Brad, he was positive Greg wasn't dreaming of someone else. A hug meant something to him, Larry was sure of it. There was an unspoken promise that a hug from Greg was only a prelude to something greater, deeper, and more meaningful than anything he'd ever experienced.
He continued the slow side to side swinging of the chair with his head bowed. 'Brad, Greg . . . work.' He heaved a sigh. 'I love Brad. I know he continues to love Curt, but Curt and Greg are seeing one another. My thoughts about Greg may only be wishful thinking. The one true, known in my life is my unhappiness at work.'
The offer of a partnership in the new law firm, across the elevator lobby from where he presently worked, was looking better each time he stepped past the glass doors and into the hermetically sealed confines of his job. The atmosphere, always conservative, had become stifling. No one smiled; no one was pleasant to be around. They were all too busy trying not to look over their shoulders to see who was watching them, wondering when the ax would fall, and they would be taken aside and asked to leave.
His secretary, his staff, everyone he felt responsible for, had been offered a position at the new firm. They were all waiting for him to make a decision. It seemed as if his entire life was in limbo. He needed to move on, with his job, his relationship . . . everything. Dreaming about the possibilities with Greg served no purpose other than to make him feel terrible, yet he couldn't help but think that Greg already felt something for him. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he thought of the possibilities.
Phalen and Jeff rolled across the bed in one of the first carefree moments they'd had together in weeks. Greg was out of the house, visiting Larry, and they were free to make all the noise they wanted.
"Ah ha," Phalen crowed, rolling to a position astride Jeff's waist, his arms raised in victory. Both men were breathing heavily, sweaty after the time they'd spent wrestling. "I win again! Will you never learn?" He squirmed slightly from side to side, thrilled with the feeling of Jeff beneath him. "Just 'cause you're the big man, doesn't mean you can beat a true athlete like me." He giggled and flexed the muscles of his arms at the same time he squirmed slightly, feeling Jeff's erection brush against him. At some unseen signal, both men's laughter faded, to be replaced by a longing for one another. It had been too long since they had been able to laugh . . . and to make love. Phalen's preoccupation with what was happening at school, as much as first Brad and then Greg, living in the next room, had inhibited them. Tonight they were free.
This time it began with a simple touch. Phalen reached out and lightly brushed his fingertips over the hair on Jeff's chest, pausing a second over one nipple, then the other, teasing them to firmness. Beneath him, Jeff closed his eyes, savoring the sensation, his mouth open as he took deep breaths.
Phalen smiled to himself. It was only recently that Jeff had become able to abandon himself fully to their lovemaking. There was no more hesitancy, no more cold sweats as memories of his past intruded on their time together.
'Someday,' Phalen thought, 'Jeff will be able to clear the last hurdle, and allow himself to be fucked.' He looked at the man he loved and knew that if that time never arrived, he would love Jeff no less than he did at the moment.
He reached out and traced two fingertips over Jeff's jaw and then over his chin and lips. "Suck them," he urged in a voice not much more than a murmur. Jeff opened his mouth, accepting the fingers.
"Great tongue," Phalen murmured. "Wanna use it on my butt hole?" He slid forward slightly, and then backward, feeling the hair on Jeff's belly begin to tickle his ass hole. Jeff made a slight groaning sound, deep in his throat, along with a slight nod of his head.
He stood with his feet on either side of Jeff's shoulders, looking down at his pale skin. The dark spread of chest hair tapered to a narrow line as it crossed his navel and then spread out to form a thick pubic patch, framing a pulsing erection.
Phalen's hairless testicles and thick penis hung within Jeff's reach, and were, like always, producing prodigious amounts of precum. As Jeff watched, a long clear strand extended and dropped onto his chest with a warm plop.
He ran the fingers of one hand over Phalen's perineum, finally teasing his anus, feeling it tighten and relax. He loved that feeling, almost as much as the erotic tremor his touch caused.
"Wanna lick it," Phalen asked, watching Jeff tease his own erection. Jeff continued to rub his fingertips over the rubbery opening, murmuring encouragement.
"C'mon, lover."
"Sure?" Jeff licked his lips and answered with a slight nod.
In response, Phalen began lowering himself onto Jeff's face in slow motion, the strong muscles of his legs flexing as his butt cheeks spread, exposing his hole to the waiting tongue.
At the first touch, Jeff groaned slightly and lapped across the smooth hole, still sweaty from their wrestling. Phalen began to masturbate himself, bouncing slightly and rocking back and forth as he tried to embrace Jeff's tongue.
Lovemaking for the two of them usually began with a tender caress, whispered words and soft sighs, but escalated quickly to something more demanding and more aggressive. Both men enjoyed being vocal, and had felt constrained, first by Brad's staying with them, and then Greg. It was wonderfully erotic to once again hear Phalen's unrestrained groans and demands for Jeff to fuck him with his tongue.
He penetrated the tight hole, then lapped his tongue in a broad swath across the pulsing opening as Phalen twisted and turned. The feeling of Phalen's low hanging testicles brushing over his chin and the sounds of his labored breathing and wet rhythmic stroking of his cock pushed Jeff to the brink of orgasm. He reached up with one hand and pulled Phalen closer, burying his tongue deeply into the spit-slick hole at the precise moment Phalen shouted and squirted the first stream of sperm in a line down Jeff's chest to his navel.
Jeff squirmed and arched his back, at the touch of the burning hot liquid, his tongue still trapped. A second hot splash of sperm on his chest followed Phalen's second shout, finally pushing Jeff over the edge. He dug his heels into the bed, squeezed his penis, and arched his back, as his own sperm joined that of Phalen's. One shot . . . two. The third happened at the same time he lapped across Phalen's hole once more.
By now, Phalen was bracing himself with an extended arm against the headboard of the bed. When Jeff relaxed, Phalen rolled onto his back at Jeff's side.
"Oh, geez. That was friggin' fantastic." He squirmed slightly. "I think I'm gonna feel that for the rest of the night." He leaned close and kissed Jeff's pleasantly satisfied smile.
When Phalen backed away, Jeff opened his mouth and wiggled his tongue. "Me too." He gave Phalen a mock scowl. "If you'd lasted much longer though, I would have gotten a tongue cramp." Phalen giggled and playfully pushed him. "Verrrry painful," Jeff teased. "But worth it," he added with a mischievous look and then smacked his lips and smiled.
Once again, Phalen playfully pushed at him and then rolled onto his hands and knees and began slurping up the liquefying puddles of sperm on Jeff's chest, belly and pubes, finishing with a single lap of his tongue over the tip of Jeff's softening penis.
He glanced at Jeff and winked, smacking his lips before once again falling onto his back.
"There's more protein in that stuff than in a slab of beef." His laughter was interrupted by the sound of the front door opening, signaling Greg's return from Larry's.
"Finished just in time," he murmured. "We wouldn't want him to hear you." He nudged Jeff. "You're so loud, ya know." He giggled as he rolled onto his stomach and propped himself up on his elbows, smiling at Jeff, who was having difficulty remaining awake.
"Me?" He yawned and reached out to pull Phalen closer. "I wouldn't be surprised if your shouting was the cause of Greg coming home. He and Larry probably heard it all the way over there." Phalen scooted closer, resting his head on Jeff's chest, seemingly lost in thought.
"I like having the old Phalen back." Jeff ran his fingers through Phalen's hair. "He's much more fun to be around than the guy who has been staying here for the past months."
Since there was no response other than the steady breaths on the hair of his chest, he thought perhaps Phalen had fallen asleep. Finally, Phalen sighed deeply.
"The old Phalen isn't completely back yet. There is still stuff I'm worried about." He propped himself up once more and grinned. "I find the old Phalen a lot more fun to be around too. I'm glad you're giving him room to find his way back."
He gave Jeff a quick kiss and reached out to turn off the bedside lamp.
"G'night, big man," he murmured as he turned on his side and scooted back against Jeff.
"G'night, lover." For a moment there was no sound other than that of the distant traffic noise and night time insects. "Welcome back."
Greg winced as the front door to Jeff's house beeped, signaling his return. He gently closed the front door, noticing the thin sliver of light beneath the door to Jeff and Phalen's bedroom, as well as the subdued sounds coming from the room. He kicked off his sandals and wandered barefoot toward the backyard patio, but stopped short of opening one of the doors, lest it cause another series of warning beeps.
Rather than going outside, he flopped onto one of the living room sofas, sprawling along its length. He threw his left leg over the back of the sofa and laid his right leg on the polished glass top of the nearby coffee table, closing his eyes and snuggling into the pillow cushion.
He slowly ran the open palm of one hand across his chest, pausing a moment as he passed over one of his sensitive nipples. His meeting with Larry had left him feeling confused. Larry was involved with Brad. He was seeing Curt. So why did a tingly feeling spread through his groin when he felt Larry nuzzle his hair during their hug? He laid an arm over his eyes and silently groaned to himself.
'Maybe I'm just horny." He huffed a silent laugh and then yawned. 'Seems as if I'm always horny. . . or tired.' He closed his eyes enjoying the silence of the house. 'I think tonight, sleep will win-out over being horny.' He yawned once again.
'I wonder what Curt's doing tonight.'
~ to be continued ~
Thank you for taking the time to read my work. I always welcome your email and enjoy hearing your thoughts. If you would like me to send a pic of the character(s), please ask.
In addition to the first 'Phalen' story, I have three other stories you may want to read. 'Leith,' and 'Chris' are located in the Nifty College Section. The third story is called 'Wesley', and is located in the Adult Relationships section. I hope you enjoy them all.
Best wishes,
Roy Reinikainen roynm@mac.com suomalainen_abq@mac.com