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 twenty
by Roy Reinikainen
Curt closed the phone, thinking of the thwarted sexual release he had been seeking a few minutes earlier. 'Well, no hope for it now,' he thought, as he trotted back to the balcony scanning for anything in need of straightening. Finding nothing, he gathered up his clothing and headed for the bedroom and the promised shower, mumbling as he went.
"I get all sexed-up and . . . poof . . . nothing." He raised his arms and then dropped them to his sides. "I shoulda cum when I was thinking about Brad and me in the forest with those two guys. That was so hot."
He had no sooner finished hanging up his clothes when the security desk clerk rang, notifying him Greg had arrived and was on his way to the elevator.
"Already?" Curt released the intercom button and threw up his arms in exasperation. "Geez, when he called to say he was coming over, was he calling from the friggin' parking lot, or what?" He reached into the bathroom, grabbed a towel, and wrapped it around his waist as he headed to the front door. A moment earlier he was feeling sexually frustrated, now he was feeling harried. First, his orgasm was halted, and now his shower.
"I've gotta get a shower," he mumbled as the doorbell rang. "Nothing else unexpected better happen this evening or I'm going to be seriously annoyed." He schooled his expression and opened the door. He couldn't blame Greg for interrupting his erotic fantasies, besides, he had been part of the fantasy. Greg greeted him, wearing a bright smile, and then kissed him as he walked into the house and headed for the kitchen. He set the bags of groceries down and turned back to Curt.
"Oooh, nice," he smiled, looking Curt up and down. "I love the towel. If I didn't already know, I'd be dying of curiosity, wondering what's underneath.
"I should have warned you I'd be here quickly," he continued, as he unloaded the two bags and began meal preparations. His smile was one of contentment, as he looked up to see Curt leaning on the kitchen island counter, watching him. "But, I got here even more quickly than I anticipated. I called from the small market at the transit center, so I didn't have far to go to get here. Your next door neighbor recognized me as I was walking out the door, and offered me a ride in her fancy car; so here I am!" He held his arms out to his sides and smiled. "It looks as if I got here before you had a chance to shower, yes?"
Curt nodded and returned the infectious smile. Greg was in a rare, talkative mood.
"You're in high spirits this evening." He accepted a glass of wine from his smiling guest who nodded in agreement.
"Kippis," Greg said as their wine glasses touched in a toast. "Good friends, good times, and handsome men who answer their door wearing towels." He wiggled his eyebrows, suggestively, a behavior of Phalen's he seemed to have adopted.
"Cheers," Curt repeated, sipping the wine. He could feel the effects of the dark red liquid, causing him to began to relax. He found himself returning Greg's smile, laughing at his jokes, the memories of his earlier sexual frustration fading away.
"You are amazing." Curt shook his head in wonder as Greg closed the oven door and turned back to him. "Even when I'm watching you, I can't figure out how you manage to throw things together and come up with a culinary masterpiece." Greg smiled brightly, seemingly pleased with the praise.
"What can I say," he replied in a deadpan voice. "I've got a rare talent. I've also been told that I've got sensitive fingers, and a talented tongue," he continued, in a mischievous voice.
"Oh, and who told you that?" Curt surrendered himself to the combined effects of the wine and Greg's playfulness. "Whoever it was, probably made their comments after cursory observations. I'm sure he'd benefit with some more firsthand experience."
Greg's throaty chuckle was extremely sexy. "Mmmm, would he now?" He wrapped Curt in what began as a loose embrace, but ended in a deep, passionate kiss. When the two men reluctantly separated, Curt was left feeling breathless.
'What's happening to me,' he thought, feeling his erection strain at the front of the confining towel. 'I'm in love with Brad, yet here I am, desperately wanting to have sex with someone else.' Greg's splayed fingers moved over his back and worked their way beneath the back of the towel, causing it to drop to the floor.
"Mmmm, yes," he murmured next to Curt's eat. "Sexy, sexy man." He teased the skin of Curt's buttocks with his fingertips, and then began kneading them, pulling Curt closer for another kiss.
"Do you mind if I join you in the shower? It's going to be a while until dinner's ready, and suddenly I'm feeling awfully . . . grubby." He took Curt's hand and led him to the bedroom. "Do you think you can help me out?"
Curt felt as if his body were betraying him. His erection was throbbing, aching for release. He wanted to feel Greg's cock pulse as it emptied itself down his throat. He wanted Greg to continue kissing him, to feel his passion build with the intensity of his kisses.
"Mmmm, that's so nice," Greg murmured after another lingering kiss, his eyes crinkling at the corners in suppressed playfulness. "The rest of the package isn't too bad either."
He shed his clothes, dropping them in a heap on the carpeted floor. "Let's get in the shower." With that he turned and walked into the bathroom, turning on a dim light, humming all the while.
Curt couldn't help himself. He compared the sexually assertive man who was motioning for him to step into the shower, with the shy, withdrawn man of a few months earlier. The Greg of a few months ago rarely smiled. He was afraid of being touched, of being nude . . . afraid of being unable to perform.
Today, Greg was confident. He smiled broadly, aggressively sought sex, and made sure his partner was as satisfied as he. Curt had to admit Greg was imminently able to satisfy him. Merely watching him move across the room was exciting. On other people, the flawless skin might have seemed effeminate. On Greg, just as on his brother Jeff, the skin contrasting with the dark hair on chest, pubes and legs, was fantastically sexy. Of course, the way the muscles of Greg's smooth butt would flex with each step, and the way his straight erection preceded him was enough to stimulate his own firm reaction.
He stepped into the shower and sank to his knees before that erection, and then opened wide and took the entire length down his throat. Greg gasped in pleasure, both at the feeling of Curt's throat muscles massage his penis, and at the feather-light touch of Curt's fingers on his scrotum. It was almost as if Curt were massaging them in hopes of stimulating a larger load of sperm. The touch was electric . . . insistent.
Curt slid back down the length, his tongue playing across the underside of Greg's erection for a few moments before once again burying his face in the dense mat of black pubic hair. Greg spread his feet wider apart and reached out a hand to the tiled wall, in an attempt to steady himself. The sight of his penis disappearing into the mouth of the man kneeling before him was thrilling. He grasped Curt's head and began thrusting his hips, aggressively sliding his erection over Curt's tongue.
It would only be a moment longer. He forced himself into Curt's throat once last time and then withdrew, just as the first high pressure stream of sperm shot into Curt's mouth. He could feel Curt swallow, once . . . twice, as Curt's fingers grabbed at the muscles of his butt, pulling him closer, his throat milking Greg's erection of the last few drops.
"Mmmm, that was wonderful." He grinned at the breathless, slightly glazed expression as he wiped the trickle of escaped sperm back into Curt's mouth with his fingers. Not content to only lick the fingers clean, Curt closed his lips around them and began sucking, making soft mewling sounds of pleasure.
"Ahh," he sighed, reluctantly freeing the fingers. He stood and slowly ran the same fingertips over the swell of Greg's chest, pausing to tease his nipples. "This is like some sort of fantasy . . . being here with you . . . an incredibly sexy man, tasting your sperm, and your tongue." His lips turned up into a devilish smile a moment before he backed Greg against the shower wall and kissed him, deeply and thoroughly.
"What is your fantasy, Greg," he asked as they separated. "What gets you so excited you can barely stand it?"
Greg didn't have to think. He reached out, and began stroking Curt's erection as he spoke. "Losing my virginity, with Jeff and Phalen fucking next to me. I guess I'd like to see the two of them have sex, and to have them watch me. Quite a change from the man you met a few months ago, yes?" He squeezed Curt's erection tighter as his strokes speeded up. I've masturbated with them . . . and licked their cum off of Phalen's hand." He grinned at Curt's surprised expression. "I'd like to . . . do more though."
"Damn," Curt exhaled, slowly. "That is sooo hot. Are you suggesting that we . . ." Curt also found the idea of having sex in the same room with Phalen and Jeff more than exciting. It was the stuff of wet-dream-fantasies. He could almost see Jeff, a slightly younger version of the man in front of him, climbing on top of Phalen, aiming his erection at Phalen's asshole, and then slowly sinking its full length into Phalen, in one move. It was easy to imagine doing the same thing to Greg, only inches away from where Phalen was begging Jeff to thrust harder.
He imagined the sight of Jeff's erection stretching Phalen's hole wide, his testicles slapping against Phalen with each forward stroke.
He could imagine filling Greg's hole with his sperm as he watched the two men next to him and Greg. One of his first thoughts. 'Greg is a virgin. I won't have to use a condom.' That thought alone, was enough to bring him to the brink of his own orgasm. He'd never fucked anyone without a condom, and he had never confided to anyone that that was one of his major fantasies; to feel his cock repeatedly contract as it pulsed its contents into a willing hole, then, as his orgasm subsided, to feel the intense heat of his own sperm surrounding his cock as he continued to slowly move in and out. He'd often imagined what it would be like to slip free, and then see his own cum begin to drool out of a sloppy hole. The thought caused him to gasp.
Greg knelt in front of him, opening his mouth wide. He knew Curt's orgasm was only moments away, and he wanted to taste Curt's thick, sweet sperm. He felt Curt rest the tip of his penis on his tongue, scarcely a moment before it began to shoot. He could hear Curt's sharp indrawn breath, followed a moment later by a sigh.
"Ohhhh, Brad." The murmur was barely loud enough to be heard over the spray of the water. "So good, babe."
Greg swallowed, the sperm which no longer tasted quite so sweet. He closed his eyes and sat back on his heels feeling as if he had been kicked in the stomach. 'Brad', he thought, bowing his head in silent, sudden, misery. 'Will I never be appreciated for being myself?'
Curt squatted in front of him, wearing a smile of satisfaction, unaware of what had happened. He ran a finger over Greg's jaw quirking his eyebrows. "You okay?" Greg nodded, trying to smile around a pain far greater than he would have expected. 'After all,' he thought. 'I don't love this man. I told Brad as much the other night. I shouldn't expect any . . . allegiance . . . from him. Still,' he thought, 'those few unguarded words hurt.'
He took a deep breath, steeling himself for what he knew he must do.
"C'mon sexy," he said, standing and holding out a hand. "Let's finish this shower. As much as I'd like to stay in here and admire your fabulous body, I don't want our dinner to burn."
An hour later they had finished their dinner, cloaked in an uneasy silence. Curt, finally could take it no longer. He set his fork down and studied the man across the table from him. Greg returned a wan smile, completely at odds with his behavior when he arrived.
"All right," Curt said. "Something's going on. This is too quiet, even for you. What's wrong? Is something going on at work? Let me know if there's anything I can do. What is it?" Greg slowly shook his head.
"No, nothing like that." He inhaled deeply, releasing his breath in a slow, steady, exhale. "I was just thinking about us . . . you and me."
"I see." Curt stared at his unfinished meal for a moment before adding. "I take it I'm about to hear some bad news." The wan smile remained as Greg met his eyes from across the table. The slight breeze caused the candlelight to flicker, casting moving shadows across Greg's serious expression.
"Bad news?" Greg shrugged. "No, I don't think so." He rested his forearms on the edge of the table, leaning closer to Curt, the flickering candles separating them. "Curt, my name is Greg." Curt's eyes widened. It was almost possible to see his mind go back to when he might have called Greg by another name.
"I am a different man than Brad," Greg continued. He silenced Curt with a slight motion of his hand. "I can understand, and appreciate, your feelings for Brad, but I can't be him. I need to be my own man . . . Greg . . . and not be compared with someone else. It . . . hurts . . . when it happens." He shrugged slightly. "Maybe I'm just too sensitive on the subject. Who knows?"
He extended a hand, grasping Curt's and squeezing gently. "Oh, don't look like that. You've done nothing wrong . . . really. It's just that, even when you're with me . . . you're not. You're with Brad. I believe, you always will be.
"I take it you've heard about Larry and Brad splitting up?" Curt's eyes widened slightly at the abrupt change of subject, but he nodded.
"Brad told me this afternoon."
"And, am I correct in thinking he asked you to get back together?" Curt nodded once more, this time more slowly, a brief, almost jerky motion, before bowing his head. He could see where Greg was heading, and he didn't want to go there.
"And you said," Greg urged.
"I told him, no. I . . . couldn't." The words seemed to be forced from him. He felt awful. Was he really thinking about Brad when he was with Greg?
'Oh shit,' he thought, finally realizing what had caused the abrupt change in Greg's behavior this evening. "I called you Brad . . . tonight . . . didn't I? When we were in the shower? I must have!" Not only had his body betrayed him by responding so enthusiastically to Greg's advances, his subconscious mind had betrayed him as well! Would he never stop hurting people? It seemed as if he was determined to cause people pain, even when he tried his damnedest not to.
Greg continued speaking, not answering Curt's question. "Why did you tell him you couldn't get back together? You love him, don't you?" Curt bowed his head but nodded reluctantly.
"So, logically, what does that say the two of us should do?"
"I don't want to think about that, Greg. I don't want to abandon you. It would make me just like I was . . . before."
"You want, you say. What about what I want? What about doing what's best for you, or what's best for Brad? All of those things should be considered."
"I can't just walk away from our relationship." He paused a moment, the candles almost guttered, caught in a stronger breeze.
Greg sighed, shaking his head slowly from side to side. "You're not just walking away. You're moving on to what is best for you guys. C'mon, Curt. Brad made that decision the other day when he and Larry split up. It was tough on him, but he did it. Now, its your turn . . . and mine. None of this is easy for any of us. I'm trying to make it easier."
"What are you saying?"
"I'm saying that you and I belong together, as friends. Good friends. Very good friends. The best of friends; but, we don't belong together as lovers, or even in a sexual relationship. You love him, Curt. Don't ignore that. Don't make Brad, as well as yourself miserable. Don't be bull headed. Moving on today is not the same as jumping from one bed partner to another. This is not the same as your old behavior. Understood?"
"I hate it."
"C'mon, Curt. No you don't. You want it more than you've ever wanted anything. You hate the thought of hurting my feelings, not the thought of getting back together with Brad." Curt shrugged slightly, but didn't dispute what Greg had said.
"Whatever pain I feel will diminish. It's not like I'll never see you again. I'll be around. Remember, we're going to be very good friends. We just won't be able to have a repeat of the shower scene of earlier this evening." Greg sighed and chuckled. "You certainly are one wonderful . . . sexy man."
He leaned forward. "Go to him, Curt. Be happy. Make him happy."
He stood and walked around the table to stand behind Curt, wrapping him in a loose embrace as he leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. "If you're feeling bad, don't. This is the right thing for both of us. You're a wonderful man, Curt, but you have to remember, your past does not make you personally responsible for everything that happens in life. You've done penance, and at the same time taught me what it means to be human. Now, it's time for both of us to move on." He kissed Curt on the cheek one last time and then reluctantly loosened his embrace, giving Curt's shoulder an affectionate squeeze.
"Now, I think I'll be leaving, so you can wash the dishes." He made a comic face in an attempt to lighten the mood. "I've always have hated doing dishes." He winked, turned his back to Curt, and left the condominium.
After what seemed like ages, the elevator arrived and its doors closed, leaving him alone and shaking so badly he was afraid his knees might give way. He leaned against the back wall of the elevator cab and tilted his head back, breathing deeply. "That . . . was the most difficult thing I have ever done," he said, aloud.
The elevator slowed to a stop. He stood, pushing away from the elevator wall, inhaled deeply once more, and then puffed out his cheeks, exhaling slowly as the elevator doors slid open.
The monorail stop was only a short walk from Curt's condominium. At one point, he turned and looked back at the building, fancying he saw Curt leaning on the railing of his balcony, many stories above. By the time the train arrived he had composed himself enough to once again be seen in public.
The train car was thankfully, nearly empty, allowing him an opportunity to sort out his feelings without being surrounded by a chattering crowd. He knew he had done the correct thing. Doing the correct thing however, did not mean he had to feel good about it. He didn't. In fact he felt . . . awful. Once again he was alone. He tried to cheer himself up by trying to find the bright side of his situation.
'I'm in better shape than ever before,' he told himself, as he slowly walked back to Jeff's house from the train stop. 'I'm not afraid of relationships. I'm not afraid of sex.' He heaved a sigh, and chucked to himself. "Well . . . not much. Even so, I am alone. I should be happy Curt and Brad are now free to be back with one another. I am happy for them. Still, I feel like hell warmed over.'
He dragged into the courtyard, hoping both Jeff and Phalen would be asleep. No such luck. He could see both men sitting on one of the living room sofas. He sighed in resignation. 'Such is my luck tonight.' He took a deep breath and opened the front door. Both men looked toward the entry at the unexpected sound.
He raised his hand in weary acknowledgment of their greetings, kicked off his sandals, and dragged himself into the living room. 'Might as well get this over with.'
Jeff had been reading the newspaper, sitting perpendicular to Phalen, his bare feet and calves resting on Phalen's lap. Phalen's open book was balanced on Jeff's legs.
"I didn't expect you home till tomorrow," Phalen smiled. "Weren't you headed over to Curt's?"
Greg eased himself into an easy chair, opposite the two men, and nodded. "That's where I've been. We had dinner, and I told him he needed to go back to Brad." Phalen's eyes widened. Jeff, on the other hand, seemed more concerned than surprised. "He was afraid he'd hurt me if he suggested it."
Phalen closed his book and set it aside. "I musta been sleeping, but what about Dad and Brad? What's going on with them?"
"They split up a couple days ago." Phalen turned to Jeff, as if seeking confirmation. "They decided they were not in love with one another, and decided to go their separate ways." Greg sighed, leaned back amid the cushions of the chair, and stretched out his legs so he could put his bare feet on the table.
"You guys didn't know?" He need not have asked. It was obvious neither had heard the news.
"Geez." Phalen's fingers absently toyed with the hair on Jeff's calf. "Poor Dad." He looked up. "I'm sorry, Greg." He seemed to stare into the distance. "This is rotten. Everyone ends up upset."
Greg softly snorted. "Except Brad and Curt."
Phalen shrugged. "Yeah, well. The people I'm closest to aren't faring too well."
"Are you okay?" Jeff's soft voice was filled with concern. He had been silently studying his brother while Phalen had been talking. There was more bothering Greg than no longer seeing Curt.
"What do you think?" Greg instantly regretted the terse response. "Sorry, Jeff." He heaved a sigh. "Actually, I'm not upset; I just feel as if I've hardly made any progress since coming to the States." He held up his hand when he saw Jeff about to say something. "Oh, I know I've made a lot of progress." He shrugged. "I'm just feeling a little depressed about the whole thing right now. No, that's not correct. I feel like shit." He abruptly stopped speaking, stood, and walked across the room.
"I don't love Curt. I like him. He doesn't love me. We have a good friendship with lots of sex." A brief smile played with the corners of his lips. "We don't love one another. He and Brad are in love." Greg leaned against the kitchen counter, bowed his head, and lowered his voice. "He called me Brad tonight, guys. He didn't realize it, but he did."
Greg moved away from the kitchen counter and walked to the row of French doors opening onto the backyard. "It seems as if I'm always being compared with someone else. You, Jeff . . . now Brad." He turned around. "I'm Greg! I want to be loved because I am me, not because of . . ." He hesitated at the look on Jeff's face. "I want to be loved because someone loves Greg, not as a substitute for someone else."
"Someone has compared the two of us?" Phalen glanced from Jeff to Greg. He could guess who might have made such a comparison. If Jeff thought about it, he wouldn't have had to ask the question.
Greg sighed, once again flopping into the easy chair. "Everyone does, Jeff . . . everyone."
He rubbed a weary hand over his face. "And now, I'm going to be an emotional wreck when Mother and Dad arrive tomorrow." He stood and headed toward his bedroom.
"I think I'll go to my room and not come out for a couple weeks. You can leave my meals outside the door." He paused and turned back, managing to smile. "Unless you cook, Phalen. Then, I think I'll pass on the meal."
"Yeah, yeah," Phalen called to the retreating figure, pleased Greg was at least, smiling. "There's no need to be nasty, just 'cause you're feeling shitty. I'll just deliver the meals. I won't make them. Deal?"
Greg chuckled. "Deal." He silently closed the door and fell onto his bed, staring at the ceiling of the room, eventually falling into an uneasy doze..
He blinked awake at the sound of a knock on his door. "Sisaan." He struggled into a sitting position as Jeff opened the door, balancing a tray and a steaming bowl.
"Finnish," he asked, wondering why Greg had used another language to ask him to come in. Greg shrugged and rubbed his eyes, trying to stifle a yawn.
"I wasn't quite awake yet. Besides, I'm finding it more difficult than I imagined, to think in English all the time. You know, I've finally realized that I think in Finnish and then have to do a quick translation before I say anything. When I'm not watching what I say, everything comes out in Finnish." He grinned. "Very distressing for the patients or staff at work. I realize I've done it whenever the room gets quiet and everyone's looking at me as if I've suddenly begun babbling." He smiled wearily, and nodded to the tray Jeff was carrying.
Jeff grinned and handed the tray to his brother, who smiled appreciatively at the aroma rising from the bowl. "This is exactly what Mother always did to help us feel better, isn't it?" Jeff grinned and nodded, slowly walking across the room, first staring out of the doors onto the bedroom's patio, looking over his shoulder as his brother spoke.
"I was just kidding about bringing meals to me," Greg said, around a spoonful of stew. He stopped to savor the flavor and smiled appreciatively.
"You knew about Larry and Brad before going over to Curt's," Jeff asked straddling the desk chair, resting his arms across the chair's back.
"Yeah, Larry told me. He was over here the other day . . . when you and Phalen were gone. He was upset, saying he was alone again." Greg sighed.
"It's like some highly infectious . . . malady. Larry got it first, now me." He gave his brother a lopsided smile before once again returning to the stew. "Don't stand too close."
Jeff slightly raised a hand, making an unhurried throw away motion. "Before learning about Brad and Larry, were you serious about Curt? Did you go over to his place with the intention of splitting up?"
"No, I wasn't serious, if having a life-long loving relationship is what you mean. I went over for dinner, hoping to have sex." Greg lowered his voice and confided. "He's very good, you know."
Jeff smiled. "I imagine."
"Not that I have anything to compare with," Greg concluded. "But, I don't see how things can get much better." He shook his head in wonder.
"You decided you guys should go your own way when he called you Brad?" Greg nodded.
"He called me Brad . . . during his orgasm."
"Ohhh. You don't look like Brad."
"His eyes were closed."
"Hmm. Did he realize?" Greg shook his head.
"No, there was no reason to tell him. But it did tell me what I should do, and eventually, he figured it out. It was rough . . . for both of us, but more for me, I fancy. I wanted to say or do more. He's responsible for getting me to come of my shell and admit to myself that I'm gay. He made me not afraid of intimacy. At least he helped. You and Phalen have done a lot too . . . just by example. Still, I wanted to tell him how important he has become to me."
"There's nothing preventing you from telling him still, is there?"
Greg shrugged. "No, but doing it then seemed appropriate, and I let the moment pass. Now, if I say anything, it'll be as some sort of postscript. I don't know." He inhaled deeply, staring into the empty soup bowl.
"What time do Mother and Dad arrive?"
"Braaad," Marty's voice penetrated into the dining room. "Curt's on your cell phone. He wants to talk to you!"
Brad looked up, caught his mother's tentative expression, and set the dishes he was carrying into the room on the dining table. He rubbed the palms of his suddenly-sweaty hands on the front of his shorts and tried to return his father's encouraging smile. He was intensely aware of the gaze of both of his parents as he left the room, but didn't see the worried look they exchanged as he disappeared down the hallway.
He encountered his brother leaving his room.
"Sorry to be in your room, Brad. I heard your phone ringing, and when I saw it was Curt, I answered it. I thought you'd probably want to speak to him right away, rather than have him leave a message." He made a comic face. "Personally, I can't see why. He may be cute, but he doesn't like baseball." Marty smiled. "Probably has a big wanger though."
Brad gave his brother a preoccupied smile but stopped at the touch of Marty's hand on his upper arm. For once, all trace of humor was missing from his brother's face. "Good luck." Brad swallowed and nodded, unwilling to trust his voice.
Brad entered his bedroom and eyed the glowing face of the open cell phone, a pool of dim light in the darkened room. 'What can he possibly want,' he asked himself as he took a deep breath and picked up the phone.
"Curt?" He was proud his voice didn't quaver.
"I'm sorry you had to wait so long, Mr. Kelly, but you asked me to call you immediately if I should ever find myself free to pursue a relationship. I'm hoping the offer is still open, because, I'm free." The last few words were delivered in a quavering voice, accompanied by a distinct sniff.
"What?" Brad was certain his parents and younger brother would have heard his shriek. It would be like Marty to be hanging around outside the door, relaying everything to his parents. He couldn't blame Marty though. He had done similar things to his two older brothers. "But, I thought . . ."
"Me too." Curt's voice still didn't seem very steady. "He was over for dinner tonight and told me to go to the man I love. He knew it was you. He was wonderful, Brad. He tried to be all brave and stern and stuff, but I could tell it hurt him to say what he did. I didn't know what to say so I sat there, dumb as a stump. Oh Brad, I love you so much. Please, can we be together again?" His voice cracked. "Please." There was a shuddering breath. "I . . . I've missed you, so much."
"Yes," Brad shouted. "Of course! Yes, yes . . . yes!" His excitement diminished when he thought of Greg. "Are you sure he'll be okay? You two aren't gonna be enemies or anything, are you . . . because of me? Greg tries to come across as the tough man, but underneath I bet he's pretty sensitive."
"You're right. He is. But no, we're not enemies or anything. We're friends. He made a point of telling me he expected that to continue. We just can't, be lovers. There's only one man who fits that role and I'm speaking to him. Can I come over and pick you up?" He hesitated. "Oh damn; I've gotta do the dishes first. We had dinner and he just left. It won't take long. I'll be over there in a bit."
The phone went dead leaving Brad in the darkened room, trying not to shake with anticipation. He could almost feel the strength of Curt's embrace, the taste of his tongue, his shuddering sigh as Curt slid into him. But, none of that was important.
'Curt loves me! He wants to be together again! He loves me!' He ran his shaking fingers through his hair and then rubbed his face as he tried to compose himself to go out to speak with his folks. No matter how he tried, he couldn't erase the smile, or ban the extra bounce in his step.
Everyone looked up as he entered the silent dining room. His mother's tentative expression blossomed into a radiant smile as she saw his face. She immediately pushed back her chair, dropping her napkin on the floor in her haste, and rushed around the table to meet him with open arms.
"Congratulations, sweetheart. There's no need to say anything. It's written all over your face." She kissed him on the cheek and brushed away the stray tear as it escaped his suddenly watery eyes. He didn't know why he should feel like crying. Perhaps, it was because he was so happy his parents seemed to be sharing his joy.
"Thanks, Mom," he sniffed, hugging her tightly. 'Thanks for sticking with me through all this.'
"That's what mothers are for, sweetheart. It's for moments such as this that we endure the difficult times." She held him at arm's length and studied him. "You're sure of this?" Brad nodded.
"I'm sure of it, Mom."
"Don't I get to give him a hug too," his father complained from nearby. Liz relinquished her son and stood aside.
"Congratulations, son," Frank said, holding Brad in a brief but firm embrace. "I'm happy for you."
"He doesn't like baseball," Marty groused in the background. "I like Larry better."
"Larry's too old for you dear." Liz grinned as she patted him on the shoulder as she returned to her seat, stooping to pick up her napkin. "Maybe you can go see his son play."
"And," Brad added. "He and Jeff are partners, so no ideas, okay?" Marty sank back in his seat.
"No one's heterosexual in Phoenix, it seems," Frank joked as he took his seat. "Except me," he added as an afterthought. He looked up into the sudden silence. "Oh, and your mother." Liz smiled and reached out to affectionately pat his hand.
"So nice of you to notice."
The ever irreverent Marty, snickered. "There must be a couple more," he added, attacking his meal. "I just don't know 'em." He thought a moment as he chewed. "Don't want to, either. Unless they have a son, of course."
~ 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