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 nineteen
by Roy Reinikainen
Larry laid on his back, dangling his feet in the swimming pool. Three empty beer bottles sat discarded at his side. A single empty bottle sat next to Greg, who sat cross legged, close to Larry, casting a long shadow in the setting sun.
"You know something?" Larry turned to Greg and attempted to look serious.
"Yes, I know something," Greg responded, wearing a serious expression. Larry turned his head and looked up from beneath sleepy eyelids, dark eyelashes shading his deep blue eyes.
"Smart ass." His smile hinted at a playfulness Greg had yet to experience. "Sorry, I forgot. You're a doctor. You'd surely know something." His emphasis on the last word was accompanied by a boyish grin which lit his face like the sun, crinkling the corners of his eyes and displaying his dimples. "Most doctors do." A moment later, the smile faded as he seemed to sink into some dark thought which caused his brow to furrow.
"Life is rotten," he groaned, throwing an arm over his eyes, knocking his baseball cap off.
Greg made a noncommittal sound. When Larry remained unresponsive, he added. "I'm told the alternative is worse. At least everyone thinks it is. Personally, I've never been able to interview anyone who could give me a firsthand account of being dead. So, I'm left thinking life, rotten as it might be, is better than the alternative."
Larry looked at him with a slightly bleary-eyed expression before bursting out laughing.
"I like you, Greg. I really do. Even though you are a smart-ass doctor." He seemed to be trying to focus. "You have nice eyes." Larry blinked a couple times. "I think."
The conversation sputtered to a stop as both men retreated into their own thoughts. Periodically, one of them would raise their bottle of beer to their lips and swallow. Larry covered his eyes with one hand, blocking out the golden glow of the setting sun, but other than the slow movement of his feet in the water of the pool, he didn't stir from his comfortable position.
Greg silently studied the man before him. Larry's baseball cap rested where it had fallen, revealing his short, surprisingly curly, sweat-damp hair. His smooth chest, with its small nut-brown nipples, rose and fell with each breath, and tapered to a slim waist and taut stomach. The dark hair at each armpit seemed to invite him to bury his face in it. Greg grinned at the thought.
'Why am I suddenly finding armpit hair sensual?' He thought a moment. 'Probably because Larry reeks of sensuality.' His burgundy running shorts with the university emblem emblazoned on them strained to contain his genitals. His penis, on prominent display beneath the tightly stretched thin nylon fabric, curved over the swell of his scrotum.
Larry's deeply tanned legs were long and lean with only a slight coating of hair. Today, they were bent at the knees as he lay with his calves and feet in the water. He moved his forearm from his eyes and turned toward Greg.
"Your thoughts?"
"I was just sitting here watching you breathe." Larry barked a laugh.
"Doesn't take much to entertain you, does it?"
After a rueful grin and shake of his head, Greg lapsed back into a pensive quiet. Larry too, seemed to be enjoying the peacefulness. He closed his eyes and rested his hands at his sides, only inches from where Greg was sitting, his breathing slowed until Greg was sure the man must be sleeping.
'What is going on with me?' Greg looked away from the man stretched out before him. 'First, I'm fantasizing about Jeff . . . my own brother, and now I'm thinking about Larry!' He snorted a soft sigh.
'I really don't know what I want.' He closed his eyes and lost himself in the soft splashing of the nearby fountain. 'What exactly is it that would make me happy?'
'I'm no longer the man I was when I arrived in the States . . . terrified of becoming close to someone. I showed up hoping to meet a nice person and live happily ever after.' He lowered his eyelids and slowly shook his head at his naivete. 'I have achieved a measure of the happiness I came to the States to find. Maybe I should go home and take what I've learned about myself, with me.'
His gaze swept across Jeff's lushly landscaped backyard, as well as the heavily laden orange tree draping over the garden wall. Even though it was autumn, the temperature was comfortably warm; the air still filled with the scents of flowers and the distant chitter of birds. He thought back to Helsinki and shook his head. 'No, as much as I love where I came from, this place has already become home for me.' He glanced at Larry, and thought of Curt and Brad and Phalen. 'These people are now my family just as Jeff is. No, I won't go back.'
He realized Larry had been studying him through slitted eyelids. He was about to ask what he found so interesting when Larry melodramatically groaned and theatrically laid a forearm across his eyes. It was a very loud groan, rising and lowering in pitch as it extended the length of one full breath, the effect spoiled only by the quick glance he cast in Greg's direction.
"What's wrong?"
"My stomach feels strange." He seemed to be having trouble controlling the corners of his lips, which, for some reason, seemed to want to turn up into a smile. "My throat's so dry." The words were not much more than a croak, ending in a half-hearted shallow cough. "I think something very serious must be wrong."
"What do you need? A glass of water, a cold compress . . . acting lessons?" Larry rolled his head from side to side.
"No, none of that. I need another beer," he moaned, before turning his head to look at Greg with his best, man-dying-of-thirst expression.
"What? Am I your servant?" Greg laughed at Larry's expression.
"No, but I thought you might help out a man in need. I'll do you next time," he offered, flashing a hopefully bright smile, in total contrast to the mournful sounds of a moment earlier. "A beer in exchange for some future favor. Besides, I don't want to get up." He looked at Greg with a mischievous expression. "The concrete feels so . . . comfortable, right now. Besides, I'm all wet; I just split up with Brad, and I spent the afternoon working under the blazing desert sun. Don't you feel sorry for me?" His expression became more mournful as his description progressed.
"Oh, all right." Greg unfolded himself and stood. Larry looked him up and down.
"Nice legs, too." He wiggled his eyebrows in the same way his son did whenever he wanted to be cute.
Greg grinned, playfully prodding Larry's thigh with his bare toes. "Thanks. I was thinking the same about yours." Larry returned a wan smile.
Before Greg had an opportunity to take more than a couple steps into the house, Larry spoke his name. This time, no acting was involved. The single word was filled with pain. He turned back and saw Larry struggling into a sitting position, drawing his knees back to his chest and wrapped his arms around his legs.
'That's the same position Jeff would get into every time he was upset,' was Greg's first thought. The image of his brother sitting silently for hours in the cramped window seat of his bedroom, staring out at the darkened park, trying to hide from his pain, was too much for Greg. 'I failed to be with Jeff when he needed me,' Greg thought, as he sank into a cross legged position at Larry's side. 'I won't fail this man, as well.'
"What is it, Larry?" The comforting hand he laid on his shoulder seemed to break Larry's resolve. He opened his mouth, once . . . twice, but wasn't able to say anything. Greg watched a single tear leave a glistening trail over Larry's cheek before it dropped to the ground. It was unsettling to see the man who normally was so full of self confidence, reduced to . . . this.
Larry heaved a shuddering sigh. "I'm alone again. I've spent what seems most of my life alone. That's how I spent most of my marriage. If it hadn't been for Phalen, I would have gone mad." He hesitated. "I thought . . . hoped actually, that Brad . . ." He paused. "I don't know. I was afraid to fall in love with him . . . afraid he wouldn't feel the same way about me.
"It's tough . . . trying to act brave, when all I wanted to do was crawl into some dark corner and weep. When Helen . . . my wife . . . left, I felt . . . relieved. When Brad left the house, I felt like someone had kicked me in the stomach. Hard.
"I couldn't let him see how I felt. I didn't want him to feel any worse than he already did."
Larry sniffed and then drew away from Greg, stretching his legs out in front of him, and turning his head away in an embarrassment from Greg's look of understanding sympathy.
"Greg, hey, I'm sorry to unload on you." He sniffed once again, and then tried to laugh. "Well," he said, as he wiped the back of a hand across his eyes, in the same way Greg had seen Phalen once do. "No one ever said being gay would make life easy. I just had this notion that . . . nothing . . . wouldn't be this difficult.
"Phalen always says that love will find you when you least expect it." He looked around the back yard, and raised his voice. "Well, love, I'm waaaiting!"
Brad stuck his head out of his old bedroom into the hallway and looked both directions, before closing the door, flipping open his phone, and dialing a number. He cursed his shaking fingers and fluttery stomach. His parents had offered him the use of his old bedroom until he, "figured things out," as his father so tactfully phrased his dilemma. Today, he was pleased to apparently have not only the bedroom but the entire house to himself. He wasn't sure how he was going to handle his emotions, and he didn't want his parents or brothers around to investigate any sound coming from his room.
The voice on the other end of the line answered almost immediately. ". . . Brad?"
Curt sounded both puzzled and worried. "I saw your name on the caller ID. Is everything okay?" He didn't wait for an answer. "Why are you calling? Is Larry okay? More importantly, are you okay?" With each sentence he sounded more concerned. "Don't just stand there breathing into the microphone. You sound as if you're going to hyperventilate. Tell me what's going on!"
Curt's voice retreated to the distance for a moment as he spoke to someone nearby. "I don't know if it's serious. He won't friggin' talk to me!" Brad imagined Curt walking away as he heard the nearby voices fade into the background. He heard the sound of a door closing followed by Curt's voice, this time echoing in a smaller room.
"Talk to me, Brad. What's going on?"
Brad sank to the edge of his bed and bowed his head, his eyes overflowing at the sound of the voice. He sniffed and opened his mouth, trying to speak.
By now, Curt was sounding almost panicked. "Brad, for pity's sake, tell me if you're okay. Do you need me?"
Brad nodded silently, still unable to speak. "Larry and I," he managed to croak. "We split up . . . last night."
"What? Why? Are you okay?"
Brad bowed his head, holding the telephone to his ear with one hand as he ran the fingers of his other hand through his hair. "I'm okay, I guess." He took a deep shuddering breath. On the other end of the phone, he could hear Curt's breathing. "It was my fault, Curt." The words were barely above a whisper. "I don't love him, Curt. At least, not like I love . . . you."
There. He'd said it. During the brief time he'd been back at his parents' house, he'd agonized about what to do, how he felt, what to say. He knew for certain it had been the right thing to leave Curt, after finding him naked, with another man, in their apartment. For months prior to their separation, he had done nothing but worry. He never knew whether Curt would be coming home. He had been miserable all the time, feeling used, taken for granted . . . ignored. Leaving had been the right thing to do, if for no other reason than to maintain his sense of self worth.
He almost laughed at how naive he had been, thinking he would somehow be able to purge his feelings for Curt merely by no longer living with him. Since they had parted, his feelings had, if anything, grown stronger. He had been left feeling trapped in a developing relationship with Larry, the perfect man, while the only person he could think of was Curt.
Friends had told him of the changes in Curt. According to everyone, he apparently did nothing but work, sleep, and eat. Brad knew something his friends didn't. Curt was also seeing Jeff's brother. Greg seemed happy in the relationship he had with Curt. He was more relaxed than they day they'd met. He had only just arrived in Phoenix, and he seemed even more reserved than his brother, Jeff. Lately, he even laughed and joked, puzzling Jeff, who told Brad the behavior was . . . "unprecedented."
Still, even with all he had heard, it was difficult to believe Curt had made such fundamental changes in his behavior. He remembered feeling sorry for Greg, when he first learned he was dating Curt, convinced Curt saw him as nothing more than another conquest.
Then he saw the rose Curt had given to Greg, by way of apology for not returning his telephone calls. It was a gesture Curt would never have even considered . . . before. He had been dumbstruck, not only at the sensitivity Curt had shown for Greg's feelings, but the tenderness he had shown while holding Greg. It was a different man he saw speaking with Greg in Jeff's courtyard, and he was left feeling . . . what? Confused? . . . Envious?
It was all he could do to concentrate on what Greg said when he returned to the house, after Curt had left. He was mesmerized by the rose lying on the kitchen counter, its fragrance, the texture of its petals, the deep red color. Curt had never given him a flower during the entire four years they had been together, just as he had he ever told Brad he loved him.
He had waited for Curt to say those words, until he had finally given up, chiding himself for expecting more of Curt than he could give. He had almost convinced himself that being told he was loved, was not important. Almost, but not quite.
His attention was drawn back to the telephone, where Curt was becoming even more frantic. "If you're not gonna talk to me, I'm coming over to your folks' house." Brad heard him shout something to someone in the office as he rushed past.
A car door slammed and the deep throated rumble of the engine filled the background. "You gotta be okay, Brad," he muttered as he pulled out of the parking lot into traffic.
Brad cleared his throat. "Yes. Yes, I'm okay. Just hearing your voice . . ." He took a deep breath, wincing as he heard another driver blaring his car horn at something Curt had done. "Be careful, Curt," he practically shouted into the phone. "Hang up and drive carefully. You're gonna make me crazy, worrying about you."
"Yeah, okay." The phone went dead.
A few minutes later he heard the screech of tires, and rushed to the front door of the house in time to see Curt bounding up the walk. He swung the glass storm door open and stepped onto the front porch as Curt skidded to a breathless stop, leaning against a porch column with one extended hand as he struggled to examine Brad and catch his breath at the same time.
"Don't do this sort of thing to me, Brad!" He straightened and shook his head, finally gaining control of his breathing. "I love you too much. Thinking of you hurt . . ." He paused and tried to swallow past a sudden lump in his throat. "I don't know what I'd do . . ."
"You love me?" Brad interrupted, searching out the edge of the nearby planter which surrounded the porch with a hand, as he sank onto the ledge. He appeared stunned by Curt's words.
"Of course I love you! Believe me, I wouldn't risk an early death at the hands of all those crazed drivers I had to avoid on my way over here, for anyone I don't love. You, Mom, Dad . . . that's it." He frowned as he watched Brad's expression.
"You've never told me you love me." Brad looked up at Curt, who continued to stand. As always, he was impeccably dressed and groomed, his crooked red and blue striped tie, the only evidence of his recent hasty trip from the office to Brad's house.
"What? Of course . . ." Now it was Curt's turn to look stunned. "I didn't?" Brad shook his head. "Not even once?" Another shake.
"Ah, geez." Curt turned his back, bowed his head, and stood for a moment in silence. "Another thing to be sorry for." Finally, he turned back to Brad. "There's so much I should have done, or said, or shouldn't have done . . . or said." He sat next to Brad and ran his fingertips lightly over Brad's jaw. "So many ways I've hurt you."
He tried to ignore the tears forming in Brad's eyes. He leaned closer, wishing he could take Brad in his arms to comfort him.
"It would be nice if we could take everything we've learned during the last year and go back so we could start over, wouldn't it?" He gave Brad a wistful smile.
"Can't we? I mean, start over?"
Curt twined his fingers with Brad's. "I'm afraid we can't do that. You see, I'm . . . involved with Greg, and to dump him would be a repudiation of everything I've tried to accomplish since you and I split up." He squeezed Brad's hand.
"I can't do that to him. I can't do that to me. Besides, if I did, you'd always be wondering about whether someone might come along which would make me dump you. Brad, one of the things I've learned is that a relationship where one doubts one's partner, is no relationship worth having."
"Do you love him? Greg, I mean?"
Curt thought for a few moments before slowly shaking his head. "No, not really. But, love isn't what matters. We have a commitment, of sorts. Maybe I should say I have a commitment to Greg, and to myself, to be a better person than I was to you. It's important to me to not toss whatever I've learned out the window. If I did that, I'd be no better than the man I was."
He leaned his shoulder into Brad's. "Ahhh, don't look like that. Please. I'm not rejecting you. It's just that I can't abandon everything I've become, even for you."
"But, if you and Greg ever . . ."
Curt interrupted. "If Greg and I ever separate, and if you're still available, I'm yours." He leaned closer and kissed Brad's cheek. "Heart and soul. Forever."
Brad tried to smile bravely. "I'll remember that, Mr. Sullivan. Just you remember that I am first in line."
"First Brad. Always first."
The drone of the airplane had long ago lulled Margit to sleep. David on the other hand, couldn't sleep, even given the cabin's dimmed lights and a warm blanket. He reached out and clasped his wife's hand, her long slender fingers reflexively twining with his.
'Ohhh, Jeff,' he thought to himself. 'I'm afraid of you; afraid you might be able to detect how guilty I feel.' The image of his youngest son played itself against his closed eyelids, a serious child who seemed to cringe when being hugged.
'My poor little boy. How I love you.' David tilted his head back and closed his eyes, visions of his two sons playing across his memory. 'Your brother always seemed so much . . . older, so grown up and self-sufficient. You always seemed . . . vulnerable. Little did I realize how vulnerable you actually were. Have you really learned to live with your pain, or do you still feel it as strongly as I?'
'Okay, what am I gonna do?' Curt drove the short distance from Brad's house to his condominium, oblivious to the traffic around him. The warmth of the late afternoon sun filled the convertible, as did the breeze, which ruffled his short hair and sent his necktie flying.
Brad still loved him! He felt like shouting with joy. At the same time, he felt terrible for feeling so good. He chided himself for even thinking about Brad . . . that way, when he should be thinking of Greg.
He pulled into the parking garage of his condominium and stopped the engine, leaning back with closed eyes as he thought of his predicament.
'Could it be true that I never once, told Brad I loved him?' He squeezed his eyes tightly closed, the picture of Brad's barely controlled emotions still vivid in his memory.
"You have been a first-rate ass, Mr. Sullivan. A first-rate ass," he said aloud. "How can you be so blind to the feelings of others?"
'I wonder how long it'll be before I discover all the ways I've hurt the people I love.' He pounded a fist once against the car's steering wheel before gathering his things and getting out of the car.
Curt crossed the parking garage and walked across the building's lobby, casually saluting the desk attendant. The elevator delivered him silently to his floor.
The sight of Brad standing in the open doorway, his hand raised in farewell seemed to be burned into his memory. It was a memory almost as bad as the one when Brad had told him he was leaving. Only this time Brad wasn't leaving him, he was asking to come back. He wanted to be together. There was no denying it. He wanted to be with Brad. He loved Brad. Brad loved him. 'Simple.' The very thought seemed to mock him.
'At one time, it would have been simple, but not now. At one time, I would have tossed Greg aside and wouldn't have thought any more about him. But, those times are gone. Greg means something. His opinion of me means something. Besides, if I could discard Greg so easily, what's to say I wouldn't be tempted to do the same thing to Brad?'
Curt walked down the home's hallway and set his briefcase on his desk draping his suit coat over the back of the chair, promising himself he'd tackle some work soon. At the moment, he had other things on his mind. He walked back to the kitchen through silent rooms and poured himself a glass of wine, leaning against the kitchen counter as he swallowed, watching the sun cast long shadows across the living room floor, splashing the walls in the muted hues of the desert.
Curt set his wine glass on the counter and stripped out of his clothes, laying them carefully over the back of a chair. Wine glass once more in hand, he heaved the large sliding glass doors open and stepped out onto the balcony, welcoming the pleasant warmth.
He leaned against the railing, confident the people surrounding the swimming pool, many stories below could not see his nakedness. One part of him wished someone would see him. He smiled at the thought and felt his penis start to thicken. 'I always was a bit of an exhibitionist, as well as a voyeur,' he thought, and then laughed aloud. 'Who am I trying to kid? I love being watched as much as I love watching.'
He plopped down onto the nearby chaise, straddling the seat and resting his feet on either side, carefully placing his wine glass on the table.
Brad had learned to enjoy having people nearby during their lovemaking. He thought back to their encounter in the men's room at the football game. Brad hadn't been shy about making noise as Curt had pushed into his tight hole. Knowing other men were close by seemed to heighten the excitement for both of them.
Curt closed his eyes and slowly rubbed the open palm of one hand over his chest and then twined his fingers in his pubic hair, pleased when his penis quickly responded to his thoughts of his and Brad's lovemaking.
'The men's room fuck was nice,' he thought, 'but it was nothing compared to the time we were hiking naked in the forest.' It had been early in their relationship, and it had taken some convincing for Brad to strip down and stow his clothes in his backpack as they made their way through the cool forest.
They walked side by side, as the path allowed, holding hands, or walking with one's arm resting on the other's shoulders. Simply being together was exciting, but knowing that anyone might happen along the path and see them, added to the excitement.
Curt's teased the length of his erection, recalling how he and Brad had paused to kiss in a small sun-dappled meadow, when they heard the sound of someone approaching from down the trail. Brad had stiffened, but had been prevented from moving. Curt remembered how his excitement doubled the moment he heard the men's voices approaching. He thrust his tongue deep into Brad's mouth, backing him against a tree to prevent him from panicking. He ground his erection against Brad's and waited to be discovered.
The two men had stopped, a sudden silence filling the meadow while he and Brad gave them a show.
"Mind if we watch," the bolder of the two men asked, as he stepped closer. "My buddy 'n I are straight, but seein' you guys go at it like you are is fuckin' hot." The other guy nodded and moved closer while groping himself through his hiking shorts.
In response to the men's request, Curt renewed his attack on Brad's tongue, at the same time he reached down to grasp Brad's erection. Brad groaned loudly and thrust his hips forward, the muscles of his butt flexing with the effort.
Curt smiled to himself in recollection as he straddled the chaise, masturbating himself. Both of the men had fumbled with the fasteners of their shorts, finally freeing their erections. He glanced at them, enjoying the glazed look in both men's eyes as they furiously pounded their cocks.
"What you wanna see us do," he remembered asking the men, stepping away from Brad so the men could see their drooling erections. "You guys like watching me and my buddy fuck around?" The men silently nodded, breathing through their open mouths.
Brad had stepped closer and stroked Curt at the same time he began kissing his neck. Curt worked a hand between Brad's legs, making sure the men were able to see his forefinger move back and forth between Brad's ass cheeks, massaging his hole.
Brad's groan was almost as loud as the men's.
"Suck 'im off," one of the guys said at the same time the other spoke for the first time, asking, no . . . begging . . . for Curt to lick Brad's hole.
"The wife won't do that to me," he added, turning to his friend. "Says only gay guys do that." The man had slowly squeezed the length of his erection, squeezing out a long strand of thick precum which swung from the end. "Always wanted to have my butt hole licked," he continued, almost to himself, lost in the sensuality of the moment.
Brad squatted over Curt's tongue and began rocking back and forth as Curt loudly slurped across his perineum to his butt hole and then to his swinging balls. Curt remembered smiling when Brad rocked forward onto his knees and spread his cheeks wide apart, allowing the men to see the spit-slick opening. 'Yeah, he's got an exhibitionist streak in him too,' he thought, as Brad once again squatted on his tongue and they both began masturbating.
"Can we shoot on you guys," one of the men asked, moving close enough for Curt to feel the fabric of his hiking shorts puddled around his boots, against his arm. The man's friend had moved to the other side and was breathing loudly, urging both his buddy as well as Curt and Brad onward.
"C'mon, guys. Show us a big fuckin' load." With that all four men began to cum. One man's sperm shot onto Brad's shoulder, in a white splash which left a glistening trail down his back.
The other man sprayed onto Curt's belly and pubes, adding his sperm to Curt's and Brad's.
Suddenly, the meadow was once silent. The two men hurriedly tucked their softening erections back into their shorts, embarrassment overtaking their earlier sexual excitement.
"Thanks men," one of the guys mumbled. "Was fuckin' hot shooting a load on you both."
The memory of Brad kneeling at his side, slurping and sucking up the combined sperm of three men was almost enough to make him want to shoot his load. But Brad wasn't the only man who occupied his fantasies as he lay back fondling himself on the condominium's balcony.
Pale-skinned, dark-haired, Greg was also exciting. While not an exhibitionist, Greg's dense pubes and thick cock, not to mention his love of kissing, was exciting. Greg was an aggressive lover, leaving Curt, on more than one occasion, having to go to work with 'whisker burn' and puffy lips, from an evening of intense kissing.
"Damn, I love his cock," Curt murmured, aloud. Only this past weekend, Greg had straddled him, the hair surrounding his asshole, dragging back and forth over Curt's chest, as Greg masturbated himself, the wide head of his thick cock, only inches from Curt's face.
Curt remembered Greg's increasingly heavy breathing as his orgasm approached, and finally, how Greg had tightly wrapped his hand around his cock and pulled back, spreading his prominent piss slit wide.
'Huge fuckin' piss slit,' he remembered thinking, straining in an attempt to sit up enough to lick across the opening. Greg had groaned loudly at the same time his hand stopped moving, and a thick stream of white sperm erupted out of his cock and splashed against Curt's cheek. The second shot landed squarely on his tongue.
Curt licked his tongue at the memory of the thick liquid running over his lower lip and onto his chin. 'The best cum I've ever tasted,' he thought to himself. 'Must come from all that clean living.' The corners of Greg's mobile mouth had curved upward as he scraped the part of his load which had not landed squarely on Curt's tongue, into his mouth, along with two of his sperm-covered fingers.
Curt jerked back to the present by the ringing of his cell phone. "Damn," he muttered, jumping from lounge chair and scrambling inside, trying to avoid the room's furniture.
He flipped the phone open. "Greg! What a surprise. I was just thinking about you," he huffed, noticing his shrinking erection as Greg asked if he could come by and make dinner. "Sure," Curt replied, I just need to take a quick shower. I'll see you when you get here."
~ 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