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-one
by Roy Reinikainen
"Excuse me." The moment the doorbell rang, Brad pushed his chair away from the dining table, and from the dinner he had barely touched. "It's him."
Marty intercepted the look which passed between his parents. He flicked a glance over his shoulder toward the living room, where he could hear the creak of the front door opening, and then Brad's voice. "You guys cool with this," he murmured. "Brad seems to think things have changed, but I wonder." Marty idly ran his spoon to and fro in his bowl of liquifying ice cream, a sure sign of his concern. Under normal circumstances, he would have already finished one bowl and be helping himself to a second.
"I sure hope so," he continued, bowing his head as he spoke, unaware of the looks exchanged by his parents. He looked up, wearing a crooked grin. "I enjoy the long, middle-of-the-night talks with 'im, but sometimes I'd like to talk about something other than Curt." Marty's eyes reflected his unease. "He's been hurting for a long time, guys . . . years. No one should have to go through that . . . ever." He looked from his mother to his father with an uncharacteristically serious expression.
"You boys are pretty close, aren't you?" Liz had set her spoon down as Marty spoke, realizing for the first time, how close Brad and Marty had actually become. It was an unlikely pairing; Brad, sensitive, serious . . . and vulnerable, and Marty, fun-loving, irreverent Marty. Before tonight, Liz would have called the two boys, opposites. Now, she wasn't so sure.
'I'm seeing a side of Marty I never expected existed,' she thought.
He watched his own disquiet reflected in the eyes of his parents as they tried, without much success, to ignore the voices from the nearby living room.
"Yeah, we've gotten pretty close," Marry continued, answering her question, "especially since he and Curt split. We didn't used to be, but for some reason Brad feels comfortable talking to me." Marty glanced over his shoulder to the suddenly quiet living room. "So . . . you guys think this relationship is cool?"
"Yes, sweetheart," his mother answered, touched by his concern. "Things are cool. We trust Brad's judgment, just as we trust yours and your brothers'." She sighed. "Things are just moving so fast. I'd just become accustomed to thinking of Larry and Brad as a couple. Now I find I'm going to have to change my thinking." There continued to be no sound coming from the living room.
"Bet they're kissing," Marty whispered, a mischievous glint in his eyes, once more his old self. He grabbed his baseball cap and turned, prepared to leave his chair. "I wanna go watch." His father placed a warning hand on his shoulder, and shook his head.
"Leave them alone, Marty, that is unless you wouldn't mind your mother and me spying on you when you have a boyfriend over. There are plenty of long periods of silence whenever you're with someone." He grinned at his son's expression, and the sudden flush of his Marty's cheeks. "I've often wondered if you're kissing . . . or something," Frank continued. He smiled when Marty quickly returned to his seat, removing his baseball cap as he sat down.
"I thought you'd see it my way," Frank grinned.
"Nah, Dad, nothing's goin' on when one of the guys and I are alone. No one I know wants to kiss. So, we just sit around and play video games, and stuff."
"No kissing?" Liz attempted to look sympathetic. "How awful for you." Marty glanced at her and then smiled, blushing.
"Well, maybe a little." His blush deepened.
"I thought so, sweetheart." She patted his hand.
They all looked toward the living room when the talking began once more.
"Mom, Dad." Brad stuck his head into the dining room. "Curt wants to say something to both of you."
"It's safe to go in now. The kissing's over," Marty stage-whispered, as his parents both stood and left the dining room, his mother taking her husband's hand. "I'll help myself to some more ice cream."
Curt stood as they entered the living room. He was as handsome as Liz remembered, though there was a discernible difference from the last time she saw him. He was no longer the peacock, on display to impress potential conquests. He seemed . . . softer . . . more caring. Just the way he moved to Brad's side and accepted Brad's arm around his waist as support, spoke volumes.
She had been prepared to accept Brad's choice, vowing not to let any disquiet she felt, escape. Now, she knew she would not have to act. She agreed with her son. Curt had changed. She returned his tentative smile.
"Hello Curt. How nice to see you again." Liz welcomed his warm, firm handshake, and then watched as her husband made his own assessment of the changed man standing before them, as he too returned Curt's greeting.
"Mr. and Mrs. Kelly." Liz held up her hand.
"It's Frank and Liz." He nodded.
"I, uh. I'd like to apologize to you both . . . personally, for the headaches and grief I've caused you ever since I met Brad." He leaned into Brad's one-arm embrace. "When we parted, I finally realized how badly I had been treating him, and through him, you." He swallowed and compressed his lips, fighting back his emotions. "Brad deserved better of me, as did both of you. I am sorry for how I behaved.
"I . . . I want to make the same promise to both of you that I made to Brad. I'll never give you cause to doubt me again. I promise. Brad means too much to me."
Before anyone had an opportunity to say anything, Marty sauntered into the room with his hands in the pockets of his baggy jeans, his baseball cap slightly askew.
"Who died?" He gestured to the large bouquet of roses in Brad's hand, and pointedly ignored his parents' exasperated looks.
"Hey Curt." He held up a hand in greeting, wearing an impish smile almost identical to Brad's. "What's up?"
"Oops," he laughed, hunching his shoulders and looking at his older brother with a mischievous expression. "Maybe that's not the best thing to ask the happy couple." His mother playfully punched him in the shoulder.
"Well," he asked, turning to his parents, after a couple moments of uncomfortable silence. "Are we gonna stand around and watch 'em kiss, or what? They're happy. Let's give 'em some space. I know that's what I'd want."
He turned and headed down the hallway. "Me, I'm gonna go study." He raised his hand in farewell. "Treat him good, Curt. I love 'im, and I hate to see 'im upset." Liz followed her youngest son with her eyes, moved by his words. Brad too, seemed at a loss. He swallowed and bowed his head for a moment in an effort to rein in his emotions, his eyes suddenly watery.
"Welcome to the family, Curt," Frank added into the emotion-laden silence.
"Thank you, both." He turned to Brad.
"C'mon, lover. I wanna show you our new place."
Brad stopped to hug both his mother and father. "Thank Marty for me, Mom . . . for what he said. I'll thank him myself, later." She nodded her understanding. Brad hugged her once more and then took Curt's hand as they ran down the sidewalk to the car, Brad clutching the roses in one hand as he ran.
"You've never given me that many roses," Liz chided as they watched Curt hold the door open for Brad and then run around the car and pull away from the curb. Both Brad and Curt raised their hands in a farewell wave, the wind catching Brad's hair in the open convertible.
"We've never had such a reunion." Frank nuzzled his wife's neck. "And, I hope we never will."
"New place?" Brad glanced at Curt who nodded and took his eyes off the road for a moment. His bright smile shone brightly in the light of the streetlights as they drove past the University.
"They like me at work. I was given a good promotion after I saved an important client, so I bought a condo on the lake shore, across from the University. It's high up, so it's pretty quiet, except for the fireworks during the football games. He reached across the car and took Brad's hand, linking fingers and returning a smile of pure contentment.
"I bought it as much to get out of our old place, as anything. I couldn't stand to be there alone." He glanced to his right. "This place didn't come with any memories."
They drove across the bridge and then turned toward the high rise buildings, driving down a palm and flower-lined boulevard, the building lights reflected in the still water.
"Must have been some promotion," Brad said as they entered the building's lobby. Curt chuckled.
"Good evening, Mr. Sullivan." The uniformed man behind the counter smiled and nodded a friendly greeting to Brad before handing Curt his mail.
"Hi, Hank. I'd like you to meet Brad Kelly. We'll be living together, so you'll see him often." The guard's smile broadened as he shook Brad's free hand in greeting.
"Beautiful flowers." He nodded toward the bouquet. Before Brad had a chance to respond, Curt had grabbed his arm and had begun tugging at him.
"C'mon, I want to show you the place." Brad allowed himself to be hurried away but managed to look over his shoulder.
"Nice meeting you, Hank," he called. The security man, smiled and raised his hand in a casual salute.
"I've been dreaming that you'd one day be able to see the place," Curt said, hustling Brad out of the elevator. He inserted his card key into the lock and held the door open, wearing a smile, bright with anticipation.
Brad hesitated on the threshold, the bouquet of roses hanging limply from his hand. The large room was dark but for the lights of the city of Tempe, across the lake. The full moon cast shadows deep into the room through the floor to ceiling windows, stripes of pale light which illuminated the otherwise darkened room. "Oh, Curt," he managed. "It's beautiful, even in the dark." Curt chuckled and motioned him into the room, taking the flowers from Brad's hand and heading into the kitchen as Brad crossed the room and stood before the windows, seemingly transfixed by the view.
"This is yours?" He turned back to Curt, his arms spread wide, taking in the room around him for the first time. "Truly?"
"Ours." Curt corrected, turning the lights of the room up to a romantic glow and then walking around the kitchen island counter. After a lingering kiss that was one of the most satisfying of his life, he held Brad at arm's length, devouring him with his eyes. Brad had never seen Curt look at someone in this way.
The strength of his grip gave Brad shivers of anticipation. This was a different Curt. This was the man he'd always hoped would hold him.
Curt continued to hold both of his hands and study him in silence, the barest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Brad," he murmured, his velvet-like voice heavy with emotion. "Would you please spend your life with me?" He swallowed and bowed his head for a moment in an attempt to regain control of himself. "I will do my best to make you proud of me, and to be worthy of your love."
Brad's smile faded. He raised his right hand and ran his fingertips over Curt's cheek, slowing as they moved across his lips. Never in his wildest fantasies, had he ever imagined something like this. If he harbored any doubt of the change Curt had undergone in the past months, it was banished.
"I would be honored."
The three men, each lost in his own thoughts, stood near the broad expanse of glass in the observation level of the airport, and watched the airplane approach the runway. The massive machine's landing was accompanied by the barest hint of smoke from the tires, and the roar of engines, muffled by the thick glass surrounding the observation area.
"You can start breathing." Jeff glanced to his left and nudged his brother who released the breath he'd been unaware he'd been holding. "And, try to look like your best friend hasn't just died," Jeff continued. "You know Mother. She's expecting to see three smiling faces. If one of them looks like you, none of us will rest till she investigates."
"Am I really looking that bad?"
Jeff gave his brother an understanding nod.
"It's more than Curt, Jeff." He made an all encompassing gesture. "It's . . . everything. I feel as if I'm back at square one. It's depressing as hell." He leaned closer to his brother and spoke in a lower voice. "Besides, I'm horny as hell, and now that I'm not seeing Curt, I guess I'll have to return to using my hand." He glanced at his hand, making a comic expression of disgust. "When a person has experienced sex with Curt, one's hand is a poor substitute." He grinned.
Phalen ignored the conversation, intent on making sure the two brothers followed him to the arrival gate, only to find they were surrounded by a crowd of people, all anxious to be reacquainted with loved ones. He tried bouncing on the balls of his feet to see over the crowd, to no avail.
"Damn, I'm surrounded by basketball players," he groused, moving from side to side, feeling like a small child in the midst of a group of adults.
"Would you like to climb onto my shoulders?" Jeff received a warning glance for his offer.
"No short jokes, mister. I'm not that much shorter 'n you, and besides, you barely had the strength to carry me across the threshold, 'member? He thumped himself on the chest. This is all muscle."
"You should have thrown him over your shoulder, Jeff," Greg piped in. "I'm told limp bodies are more easily carried in that position."
Phalen leaned around Jeff. "I wasn't limp, smart ass."
Jeff shook his head in resignation. "I saw that one coming." He pulled Phalen to a position in front of him, so he could see the passengers who were finally beginning to stream out of the plane.
"There they are!" Phalen raised an arm and gestured broadly, once more bouncing on the balls of his feet.
"Margit, David," he shouted over the general din. "Over here!"
Phalen rushed forward and hugged both parents in an enthusiastic embrace before ushering them to their sons, ignoring the security officer who was not happy that Phalen had apparently gone where he was not supposed to.
Jeff had a moment to study his parents while Phalen apologized to the stern-faced officer, who ended up grinning and patting him on the back.
Both parents were casually dressed. Margit in a white silk blouse and deep green slacks which accentuated her long legs and narrow hips. Her pale, Scandinavian complexion and short blond hair drew as many admiring looks as his father's darker, more rugged appearance.
David, chest hair escaping from above his blindingly white shirt, looked no less impressive than his wife. His new mustache gave him a slightly rakish appearance.
Phalen dramatically wiped his brow as the security officer walked off causing the corners of David's eyes to crinkle as he smiled the same lopsided smile Jeff remembered as a child.
He paused a moment as he saw Jeff.
"Dad." Jeff smiled, taking the few steps to his father and wrapping him in a welcoming embrace. "I'm so glad you could visit."
"It's good to see you too, son," he murmured, unable to keep the slight tremor from his voice. Jeff held his father at arm's length, studying him with a critical eye as Margit greeted Greg.
"Dad? Are you okay?"
David swallowed and nodded, the smile returning. "Never better." He exchanged places with his wife and embraced Greg while Jeff greeted his mother and Phalen stood nearby, smiling broadly and behaving as if he had personally choreographed the scene before him.
"No one could have told me how much I'd miss my boys," Margit said, blinking suddenly misty eyes. "And you too, Phalen," she added, drawing him into a motherly embrace, accompanied by a kiss on the cheek which caused him to blush.
"Did you have a good trip," Jeff asked, glancing from his mother to his father. Both seemed slightly ill at ease. They were most likely tired, but that could not account for . . . Jeff could not pin point what was wrong. He just knew something was bothering both of his parents.
"The trip was totally uneventful," David answered, trying to stifle a yawn without much success. "I've got half a mind to stay in Phoenix, just to avoid the jet lag going back. Besides, it's bright daylight outside!" He turned to his wife. "Look, honey, the sun still exists!"
He turned to Phalen as the group went in search of baggage. "I never have liked the long hours of darkness each winter brings."
"I hated the cold and damp, more," Greg added, speaking for the first time. Jeff was pleased to see that Greg had been able to conceal his distress. His father nodded agreement about the cold, and then theatrically shuddered.
"You certainly won't find the cold here," Greg continued. "When I arrived, I about roasted in my own juices, until Phalen here, divested me of my clothes and dressed me like a native."
Phalen nodded. "Did you know he was wearing flannel underwear? I mean . . . flannel! In Phoenix! In the summer! We got him out of those things in a hurry."
David rested an arm across Greg's shoulders, turning to him with a suddenly intent expression. "I look forward to hearing more of what must have been an extraordinary event." He ignored his oldest son's warning look and turned to Phalen. "We are speaking about my oldest son, are we not? The one who tries mightily not to expose any bare skin other than face and hands in public?"
"Oh yeah, him!" Phalen enjoyed having a person join him in teasing Greg. "Now, we have a tough time keeping him dressed!" Greg's scowl deepened. He had yet to learn it had no effect on Phalen, or if anything, spurred him on to be even more outrageous.
"The man is way too reserved," he remembered complaining to Jeff on more than one occasion. "He makes you look positively jovial! Imagine . . . you . . . jovial!" He scrambled away from Jeff's grasp, with a giggle. "Goes to show what wearing flannel underpants all your life will do to a person. You'll notice, as soon as we got him into a decent jockstrap, and exposed his butt to the breezes, he started to loosen up."
"You don't think having sex with Curt on a daily basis had anything to do with it, do you? Phalen smiled and shrugged.
"Maybe a little." Phalen held thumb and forefinger close together. "Personally, I think a black jock against Greg's smooth white butt is the reason they're having as much sex as they are. That, and the fact Greg must be horny as hell, never having gotten off with another person before. Geez, talk about blue balls!"
He leaned close to Jeff. 'I'm surprised Curt didn't drown the first time." He thought a moment. "Musta been fun. Probably just like you, the first time." Phalen licked his lips, remembering their first night together.
"Or you?"
Jeff was answered by a thoughtful nod. "Yeah . . . awesome experience . . . totally." He had leaned close and kissed the tip of Jeff's nose. "Course, you do bring out the best in a guy."
"Well men," David said, drawing Phalen back to the present. "As much as I hate to say it, I'm exhausted." David was unable to hide a jaw breaking yawn. He hefted a large suitcase, giving another to Greg. "Let's go to the hotel before I pass out."
"We're going to be packed into Phalen's car," Jeff apologized as he loaded everything into the trunk.
"That's okay," Phalen chimed in. "I'll sit on Jeff's lap."
"Whaaat?" He turned from Greg to Jeff, refusing to be cowed by the almost identical scowls. "We'll let Greg drive. What's the problem?"
"It's okay, Phalen," Margit chuckled as she climbed into the back seat, folding her long legs into the confined space. "The boys are thinking you're going to offend my sensibilities. Don't worry. I can handle almost anything. Still, I think maybe you should drive since it is your car."
"I was just joking, trying to get a rise out of these two." He nodded to Jeff and Greg. "Sometimes I think I'll die laughing, they joke around so much." He rolled his eyes.
"Better watch it, Phalen." Greg leaned forward from the back seat. "I know where you're ticklish."
"And I'll hold you down," Jeff warned.
"And, I'll watch," David added, wiggling his expressive dark eyebrows before surrendering to another massive yawn.
Brad leaned on the condominium's railing, feeling the cool evening air off the lake ruffle his already disheveled hair, and smiled to himself. 'What a wonderful day this has been. Curt and I are together again . . . and, Marty.' Brad shook his head in wonder. 'I never know what to expect from him. He's going to make someone a wonderful partner, someday.'
It was early morning, still several hours before dawn. He had been so keyed up he'd climbed out of bed, leaving Curt still lying on his side, the white bed sheet in a wrinkled mess at the foot of the bed.
He absently ran his fingers over his smooth chest, encountering the patches of dried sperm, remnants of his own orgasm. He tightened his sphincter and grinned at the thought of still being impaled on Curt's penis.
He could not have dreamed of the heights of passion he experienced. As always, Curt was a demanding lover, but instead the tough-guy persona, he had become a gentle lover, concerned with Brad's pleasure as much as his own. The pain of making love with Curt was missing as was the hurried slam-bam feeling he often experienced . . . before.
When Curt had begun to slowly undress him, he wasn't sure what to expect. What he had gotten, surpassed his greatest expectations. Still, he resented the condom which separated them.
Curt had obligingly upended the bulging sheath over Brad's open mouth, grinning as the thick liquid contained within slid out and coated Brad's tongue. He licked his lips, remembering the salty, yet slightly sweet taste. 'No one tastes like Curt.'
Being fucked by Curt was different than being with Larry. He had loved it when Larry would slide into him. Larry's long erection had been the cause of many a shuddering orgasm as it stroked his prostate. Larry would fill him with sperm and then lick him clean. Afterward, they would kiss, the taste of sperm on Larry's tongue almost always causing him to have another erection. Yes, Larry had been a wonderful lover.
Making love with Curt was different. With Curt, there was an intensity, a passion, missing with Larry. The feeling of Curt's weight on top of him, his warm breath against his neck, the feel of his tongue as they kissed, the strength of each thrust . . . and finally, the shivering, shuddering sensation as Curt filled the condom. He sighed. What could he say? Sex with Curt was indescribable.
He tightened his sphincter, wishing he were full of Curt. 'I can't get enough,' he grinned to himself.
He jumped slightly as Curt moved close and wrapped his arms around his waist and began nuzzling his neck. Brad could feel Curt's stiff pubic hair rubbing against the cheeks of his bare butt. Curt's flaccid cock pushed against the cleft between his cheeks as Curt tightened his embrace, making low humming sounds of pleasure as he kissed Brad's neck, nibbling slightly on an earlobe.
"Mmmm, that's nice." Brad pushed back against Curt's groin, intensely aware of the thickening penis between his cheeks. "I was just thinking of you, wishing you were fucking me again."
Curt chuckled, a sound deep in his chest. "We can do something about that," he murmured, close to Brad's ear. "If it were up to me, we wouldn't leave the house for at least a week." He kissed Brad's neck at the same time he began rocking his hips, his now fully erect cock, sliding up and down between Brad's butt cheeks. He kissed Brad's neck between words. "You . . . are . . . so . . . exciting."
"Just a sec." He released Brad and trotted into the house. Brad could see him cross the living room and head for the bedroom. A moment later he was back, holding up a foil-wrapped condom.
Brad spread his legs and leaned against the balcony railing as Curt knelt behind him, spreading his butt cheeks wide to expose his puckered anus. It tightened and then relaxed as Brad tensed in anticipation of Curt's tongue.
When the feeling finally came he groaned, aloud.
"Oh, how I've missed this," Curt murmured loud enough for Brad to hear as he lapped a broad swath across the smooth opening before teasing it with the tip of his tongue. At one time, Curt would have dispensed with the rimming, and would have already been half-way to an orgasm. Tonight, he was making love to all of Brad . . . his mouth, his cock . . . his anus.
"Fuck me," Brad urged, his voice barely more than a murmur. "Slide in, in one push," he urged. "Stretch my hole." He could hear Curt tear the foil condom wrapper. He looked back over his shoulder and saw him unroll the clear membrane down the length of his erection.
Curt positioned the broad tip of his cock against the hole and pushed slowly and gently into Brad in one motion, and in only moments his pubes were smashed against Brad's skin.
Brad shivered as Curt partially withdrew. "Sensitive, I see," Curt murmured close to Brad's ear, as he leaned over his back.
He fancied he could feel the swell of Brad's prostate rubbing the underside of his erection. It was a thought, which combined with being out doors, was pushing him toward his second orgasm of the night. The feeling of Brad's sphincter milking his erection, the feeling of Brad's body in his arms, the smell of his excitement, the taste of his sweat . . . It was like no other man he had ever been with.
'Brad is back,' he thought as another tremor coursed through Brad's body. 'Life is wonderful.'
Brad groaned loudly in the throes of his own orgasm. The sound as well as the rhythmic tightening of Brad's sphincter around his cock was too much. Curt thrust one last time, burying himself and filling the condom with burst after burst of sperm.
"So good," Brad murmured, sounding far off. "So good." He continued to tighten his sphincter, milking Curt's softening erection.
They remained in that position, Brad leaning against the balcony railing with Curt lying across his back, until Curt's erection eventually slipped free. He stripped off the condom and took Brad's hand, helping him straighten.
"C'mon, lover. Let's go back to bed and cuddle. I want to hear all about what's been happening in your life."
"I wasn't very good at hiding my emotions was I?" David, wearing a pair of short black silk sleeping shorts, flopped back onto the large hotel bed. He enjoyed the sensuous feeling of the silk against his bare skin, something his wife knew when she bought the shorts for him. He loved to wear them. She said she loved seeing him in them.
The muscles of his long legs flexed as he shifted position, absently running the palm of an open hand over the hair of his chest and stomach, to finally cup the full swell of his scrotum. He could feel his testicles shift beneath his fingers sending an exciting tingle throughout his groin.
He withdrew his hand with difficulty. At any moment, Margit might walk into the room. She liked to think she was open minded, but he didn't think catching her husband masturbating, his shorts puddled around his feet, would be a sight she was likely to appreciate. Still, he was horny.
"Nor was I," Margit said, walking into the room, just as he had feared she might. "The boys could tell something was up, just as I could tell all three of the boys were on edge, fearful of saying or doing something which would bother us." She quickly amended herself. "Or rather, offend me."
Margit climbed onto the bed and lay crosswise to him, resting her head on his belly, her short blond hair contrasting with his black.
"They'll get over it once we're here for a while. They tried very hard to do everything they thought we expected while they were visiting us. Now it's our turn not to impose our thoughts on them. This is their turf. We have to let them be as they are. None of us will have any fun if we're all afraid to say what we're thinking."
"Well," Margit chuckled. "I doubt Phalen has many inhibitions when it comes to censoring what he's thinking." David made a noncommittal sound rather than disagree with her. He had seen Phalen's eyes flick to Jeff from time to time, as if asking if he were stepping out of bounds and saying something he shouldn't.
He refused to think about serious things. They were on holiday and he intended to enjoy every minute of it. He found it difficult not to squirm with excitement. "Isn't this place glorious," he asked, raising his head off the bed slightly and looking at his wife. "The bright light, the warmth, the flowers, the palms . . . our sons, together in one place."
He could feel her nod. "It is pretty, and being with the boys is nice." She shifted position, rolling onto an elbow, and searched his face.
"David . . . what's going on in that devious mind of yours? You're not seriously considering relocating, are you? This is a pleasant interlude. It's not home, even if Jeff and Greg have made it so for themselves."
"Nothing's going on, sweetheart."
'Devious mind?' He raised his head off the bed once more, in hopes she might elaborate. When she made no move to do so, he lay down and continued.
"I'm just excited to be on vacation, that's all." He ran his fingers through her hair.
"And," he murmured. "I find myself very horny." She twisted to look up at him, a radiant smile lighting her face. "What do you say, we try this bed out?"
"Doctor Layson." The intercom interrupted the silence of Greg's office. "You have a call from a Mr. Larry Weston."
"Thanks, Emily." He stared at the blinking red button on his telephone.
'Please don't let it be something having to do with Dustin, or drugs . . . or any, problem,' he silently prayed as he reached for the phone. 'I can't handle one more thing.'
"Greg, hi, this is Larry. I haven't seen you in a few days and was wondering how you're doing." He hesitated. "I also wanted to let you know I've been able to pull myself out of the funk I fell into after Brad left."
Greg chuckled. "Was that a rehearsed speech, Larry? You sound so formal."
Larry laughed. "Well, sorta rehearsed. I also wanted to find out how things are going over at your place. I haven't heard from either Phalen or Jeff in quite a while . . . or from you for that matter."
"Jeff's and my folks are in town on holiday, so that's probably why they haven't called. As for me . . . well . . . Curt and I decided it was best not to see one another sexually any longer."
"Damn, I'm sorry to hear that. Was it unexpected?"
"No, not really, other than the timing. The whole thing was my decision, so if I'm feeling rotten it has nothing to do with anything Curt did or didn't do."
"Geez, Greg, I don't know what to say? Would you like to get together and have a beer, or something? Remember, I owe you one wish, from when you helped me the other night." His voice lowered. "You really did help, whether you realize it or not. When we sat on the edge of Jeff's pool and you had your arm around my shoulders, I didn't feel so alone. Before that . . . I don't know . . . I just felt . . . adrift." There was a short pause. "I would like to get together so we can at least talk. You may not realize how much you need to lay your feelings out. You know I'm a safe person to do that with, don't you?"
"Thanks, Larry. You're probably right, but with the extra load here at work because a couple of our docs are out . . . sick." He snickered. "Doctors aren't supposed to get sick, you know." After a short pause while Larry laughed, he continued.
"So, I've got the extra work, and the folks are here, which means I'm not having much free time." A thought struck him.
"But . . . Jeff is making some sort of special meal tonight for everyone. Why don't you drop by? I know Mother and Dad would enjoy meeting you. I've also got the next couple days off, so I'm planning on doing a little relaxing. Maybe I can get this Curt-thing off my mind."
"I'd love to meet your parents. Are we dressing formal tonight," he asked with a chuckle.
"As long as you're dressed, I think everyone will be happy." He stopped to consider his statement. "Well, Mother will be happy. "Dad, Jeff and Phalen would just as soon be hanging out naked, but they feel constrained by having Mother around. I still have a very long way to go before I'm comfortable with recreational nudism though."
Larry laughed loudly. "Well, I'd have to say I had a little difficulty being naked around Jeff and Phalen, at first. I don't believe Phalen or I had ever seen one another naked, until them. It was . . . exciting. But, after a while, it seemed natural. Once I had gotten the obligatory erection-at-an-inappropriate-time-thing taken care of, that is. I'll tell you about it sometime," he laughed.
"So, you'd be happy to be nude as much as Dad and the others?"
"You got it. I hardly ever wear clothes when I'm at home. But tonight, I'll do as you ask. After all, I feel as if I'm meeting my in-laws."
A flashing light on Greg's phone signaled he was needed at the reception desk.
"I'm sorry, but I can't visit any longer, Larry. A flashing light on my phone is telling me I'm needed up front. I'll see you 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, and to those in the States, Happy Thanksgiving
Roy Reinikainen roynm@mac.com suomalainen_abq@mac.com