Date: Sat, 12 May 2001 08:30:33 +0200
From: "solark36@yahoo.co.uk" <solark36@yahoo.co.uk>
Subject: 15 Hartford part 5

Disclaimer: This story is entirely fictional and not intended for minors or
those judged unable by law to read this material.  Any resemblance to
actual people is purely coincidental and unintended.

The author reserves all rights to this work.

15 HARTFORD

The story so far: Michael got very good results and was undecided because
his family was poor.  Martin decides to help but there was a
misunderstanding and Michael quit.  Martin looks up Michael, but the latter
refuses to let him in.  Before leaving, Martin reveals the real reason why
he had hired Michael.


Part 5 - Histories

Martin's tears were flowing as he walked down the stairs.  Never in his
whole life had he been treated the way he was just treated.  He wanted to
fulfil a promise.  What was wrong with that?  In trying to fulfil that
promise, he had discovered certain things about himself that he had found
disturbing.  Despite that he had continued to do his best.  The last turn
of events had made it impossible to fulfil that promise.  He only hoped
that Mr. James Mitt will understand.

He heard a voice call out from above him.  "Mr. McBain!"

He looked up and he saw the tear-stained face of Michael.  He continued to
walk down.  He did not need any more humiliation.

"Please, Mr. McBain.  Wait.  Don't go!"

Martin looked up again and saw the pleading face of Michael.

"What do you know about Jimmy? ... I mean James?"

Martin wanted to go.  He was tired.  He had put in a lot of effort.
Actually, he had gone out of his way to look after Michael.  All that he
had gotten out of it so far was a nice dinner and lots of heartache.
Nonetheless, he felt his body turn and walk up the stairs towards Michael.
He reached to top of the stairs where Michael stood.

"Can we talk in the flat?"

Michael nodded and held the door as Martin went in.

"Take a seat," Michael said after he had closed the door.

On entering, Martin was greeted by the living room area.  There was a
corridor to the left followed by a television set situated at the corner.
To his right was a long couch with two single chairs on each side.  Right
in front of the couch was a coffee table.  The living room looked cosy.
There was a window on the right wall that had curtains that reached to the
floor.  On the right corner, there was a little cabinet where there were
picutres and a small house plant.  As Martin looked to the right, he saw a
door leading into the kitchen which was just to the right of the window.

Martin sat down on one of the chairs in the living room.  Michael took a
seat opposite him on the other side.  He asked again, "What do you know
about my friend, James?"

Martin related what happened the night Jimmy was shot and how he had
promised Jimmy to look after Michael.  As he came to the part where Jimmy
struggled to talk, he could see the tears in Michael's eyes.  He finished
with the arrival of the ambulance and police.

"I had to make a statement at the police station.  It was only in the news
that I heard that your friend had died.  I did not know when he died, the
news report did not elaborate."

"I read the news, too."

"I thought he had said, 'take care my 15 hard fer.'  It did not make any
sense until you said that you were living at 15 Hartford.  Then I realised
that he had said '15 Hartford', and that 'my' was really 'Mike'.  That was
why I asked if your friends and family called you 'Mike'."

"Then why didn't you tell me about Jimmy, then?"

"I wasn't sure that you were really the right person.  I wasn't even sure
if my guess was correct.  When you asked me just now about him, I realised
that I was right all along."

"I am sorry Mr. McBain.  I have never gotten anything for free, except from
my family.  Your offer was too good to be true.  When I felt you pressing
against my stomach, I panicked.  It was easier to believe that you had an
ulterior motive."

"Look Michael.  What I said out there is true.  I cannot explain what was
happening to me this morning when you hugged me.  Maybe it is lust.  I
cannot deny that I am attracted to you."  Martin began to tremble.
"Michael, you are old enough to be my son.  I don't know what is happening
to me.  Ever since I met you, my mind has been at odds with me.  I think of
you, especially of that time you took of your shirt.  I even dream about
you.  Maybe you are right.  I am a perverted old man."  Then Martin began
to cry.

Michael felt sorry for Martin.  He had had it easy until Jimmy entered his
life.  Michael went beside Martin and hugged him.  He brought Martin's head
to his chest and stroked it, just like when he would comfort Adam.  Martin
brought his hands up to Michael's shoulders and held on.  After a while, he
stopped crying.

He pulled away from Michael and said, "Thanks Michael.  It meant a lot to
me that you had accepted me.  I know I should feel embarrased, but I am
not.  I thank you for being a friend to me."

Michael just smiled.  He was having a slight problem of his own.  Whilst he
was holding Martin, he had a little reaction of his own.  His dick had
started to stiffen.  Because of their particular positions, Martin had not
noticed what happened.  Michael was confused about his reaction but did not
reveal it.

Michael said, "I'll make some tea whilst we talk.  It will make us both
feel better."  He got up and went to the kitchen.  He was thankful that he
wasn't totally hard.  Even if it was obvious, his untucked T-shirt would
have hidden it.  He put the kettle over the fire and waited for the water
to boil.  As the kettle's lid began to rattle off, he heard Martin coming
into the kitchen.

"Let's talk in here, Michael."  Martin sat beside a small table in the
kitchen.

"Okay."

Martin was silent as Michael prepared the pot of tea.  Michael placed the
pot of tea and a jar of sugar on the table.

"Do you take milk with your tea," asked Michael.

"No.  Thanks."

Michael got out the cups and saucers, and teaspoons.  He placed one set in
front of Martin and another where he was to be seated.  He poured a cup for
Martin and another for himself.

When Michael had sat down, Martin asked, "Can you tell me about Jimmy?  I
only looked at him for about an hour.  He was unconscious most of the time
but I could see that he was someone who was full of life."

"Yes Jimmy was full of life.  However, he took drugs.  He did not seem like
an addict to me.  But before I continue, I think I must tell you something
about Jimmy and myself.  It may surprise you somewhat, and I hope you'd
understand."

"What is it?" Martin asked.

"Mr. McBain, I am gay and Jimmy was my lover."

Martin sat there in surprise.  He had not thought that Michael was gay
because of the way he had acted in the office.

Michael guessed what Martin was thinking.  "The reason I reacted the way I
did in your office was precisely because I was gay.  A straight person
would not react the way I did; he would probably pretend there was nothing
unless you made a move on him."

Martin did not really understand the logic but did not say anything.
Michael started to tell Martin how both of them met and how Jimmy wanted to
wait till he was eighteen before really making love to him.  Of course,
Michael left out the lewd details.

"Jimmy decided to give up his former flat and to rent this one.  He used my
name and social-identification number in the form.  The landlord thought he
was me and he was definitely more than eighteen.  They did not discover the
deception until four months ago, after I turned eighteen.  Jimmy tried to
placate the landlord by paying the rent until the end of the year."

"I guessed that this was Jimmy's flat."

"Because the syndicate did not know about me, they could not trace Jimmy
back to here.  He actually stayed at home during the day and came to sleep
in the night.  I used to spend my weekends with him here."

"Ah, that would explain about the use of your name.  Wasn't it difficult
for you not to get into drugs, too?"

"Jimmy never allowed me to try drugs.  He told me that he got into using
drugs because he was a courier.  His boss wanted to make sure that Jimmy
was not a copper.  He had to take drugs occasionally to convince his boss.
He usually took pills but tried not to take any of the hard stuff.  He was
once given some cocaine but he told me he had been sick the whole of the
next day."

"How did he become a courier?"

"His father had been a drunk and a gambler.  He got into a huge debt with
one of the gangs.  So in order to prevent his family from being harassed,
he became a courier."  Michael's eyes were starting to be red again.  "He
was just two deliveries from paying off the debt.  After that, he wanted to
move his mother and sisters away from the city and settle in somewhere
else.  The plan was for me to join him wherever it was after my studies and
work together.  It never came to be ..."

Michael tried to contain himself and told Martin what had happened on the
night of the shooting.  Michael was weeping uncontrollably when he
finished.  It took him a while to calm down.

"It is good to know for certain that he did not mean what he said.  He
really did love me.  In his dying moments, he thought about me.  If that
does not show that he loved me, I do not know what else can show it."

Martin agreed, "Jimmy must have really cared for you.  As I see it, he left
and said those things to you because he did not want you to be in danger.
He'd rather you hate him than see you in danger."

Michael nodded his head.  "If only I knew where he was buried, I could
visit him and make peace with him."

Martin said, "That shouldn't be a problem.  I can ask the police station.
After all, I did discover him and got him to the hospital."

Michael gave a slight smile, "You mean you can ask?  Can you please find
out for me?"

"Of course.  I think we can visit him because it is he who brought us
together.  Michael, about the university fees, the offer still stands if
you want it.  There are no conditions except that you make the best of the
opportunity."

"What about the job?  I can't continue to work full-time if I studied."

"You'd have to stop working, Michael.  Don't worry about the centre, we can
find someone to replace you."

"Thanks Mr. McBain.  In that case, we'd better sit down and decide how I am
going to pay you back."

Martin yawned, "Sorry.  I hope you did not mean that we had to work out the
details straight away."

Michael glanced at the clock in the living room.  "It's already midnight.
I didn't realise that it was so late.  Why don't you stay the night
Mr. McBain.  If you go home now, you won't get to sleep until one or two."

Martin was hesitant.  "I would rather go home, but thanks for the offer."
He got up and moved out of the kitchen into the living room, heading
towards the front door.

Michael insisted, "Are you still angry with me?  Please accept my
hospitality as a sign that I trust you."

Martin was too tired to argue, "Okay, okay."  He sat on the couch and put
his leg up.

"No," Michael protested.  "I was the one who got you down here and talked
to you until this time.  I'll take the couch.  I insist that you take the
bedroom.  Since I won't be going to work tomorrow, I can get all the
information regarding the university."

"Good idea."

-----

First, there were wheat fields.  They were golden in colour.  Then the
beauty turned into horror.

"No Dad, no!  Please Dad, No!"

The older man was unflinching in his whipping.  He had a face that was hard
as stone and the belt that he held was brown.  "That'll teach you not to do
what is a perversion unto the Lord!"

The boy wailed and cried, "Ow!  No, Please, Dad, I won't do it again!, Ow!
Please Dad!  Ow!"

The boy's mother stood at the door crying, afraid to approach her husband.

The boy saw her, "Mummy, please!  Ow!  Make Dad stop!  Ow!"

The whipping carried on until the boy passed out.

Martin awoke to Michael calling him.  "Are you okay Mr. McBain?"

Martin woke up almost instantly.  He looked at the concerned face of
Michael and said, "It was just a dream."

"You were shouting to your father and mother.  You sounded terrified.  Are
you sure you are alright?"

"Yes I am."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No.  It's really nothing.  Besides, you and I need to get some sleep.  Now
go back to sleep.  I am sorry for having woken you."

"Alright, so long as you are fine."

"Yes, I am fine.  Thanks."

-----

Martin returned to work the next day in the same set of clothes he had worn
the day before.  Even after a shower at Michael's place, he knew that he
smelled.  Unfortunately, he did not have the time to go back to his flat
for a change of clothes.

He got to the office later than usual.  He was there at twenty past eight.
He had only ten minutes to assign work.  Luckily, his experience gave him
an edge.  He was putting on the orders on the table as the workers came in.
He called Sally to his office.

"Sally, sorry about yesterday.  There were some problems that Michael had
with the job and he wanted to quit.  It's not about you, neither about me.
It is confidential, you understand.  Just to let you know that there'll be
a replacement for him."

"I am sorry to see him go.  He was a good lad."

"Yes.  I am sorry to see him go, too.  It was his decision."

"Yes sir."

"That's all Sally," Martin concluded.

The next two days were a blur for Martin and Michael.  Martin was
successful in getting the one who had a hobby fitting computers to work for
them.  Michael made enquiries regarding his studies.

On Thursday afternoon, just before the end of the work day, Martin had a
call from Michael.

"Mr. McBain, can I come to see you regarding our arrangement?"

"Yes.  Michael.  I finish my work here in twenty minutes."

"I could come to see you at the centre."

"No.  Meet me at the cafe we had lunch last week and I'll bring you for
dinner, first."

"You don't have to do that, I am already taking a lot from you."

"No problem.  It would be good to have some comany for dinner for a
change."

"Alright.  At what time should I meet you."

"Can you make it in forty-five minutes?"

"Yes, comfortably."

"Good.  In forty five minutes then, at the cafe in which we had lunch."

"Okay, bye."

"Bye."

Michael was waiting for Martin when he reached the cafe.

"Sorry to have kept you waiting," Martin said.

"No.  I was early."

"Okay, shall we go?" Martin asked.

"I thought we would be having dinner here."

"I have in mind another place.  The food is good, but I do not know if the
service has improved."

Michael just shrugged and followed Martin.  They reached the restaurant
that Ian and Martin had eaten in three months ago.  There were not many
people.  They were ushered to a table and a surly waitress came to take
their order.  The service had certainly not improved much, though being in
there was less stressful.  This was surely due to the internet petition
that Ian had started.

The quality of the food had not changed.  For this Martin was thankful.
Martin told Michael about the restaurant and the internet site
intermittently.  He had to be careful that none of the waiters or
waitresses was eavesdropping.  When the dessert was served, Martin had
finished the story.  Michael was grinning.  He realised how effective the
internet really was.

"Have you decided what you wanted to study?"

"I thought of taking up biochemistry as a major," Michael answered.

"Where?"

"The university nearest my home is the city university.  I would have liked
to get into the Academy of Biochemical Sciences, but it is too far."

"Isn't that the Academy that is just a ten minute walk from your flat?"

"Yes, but I won't have the money to keep the flat now that I am no longer
working."

"Let's finish our dessert so that we can get to my place to work out your
new life.  I'll drive you back when we've finished," Martin continued.  He
kept quiet after that.  He was working out some figures in his mind.

After dinner, Martin walked out of the restaurant and led the way.  Michael
was puzzled, he thought that Martin's flat was in the other direction.

"Aren't we going the wrong way?"

"Not yet."

Martin had been very quiet and Michael thought that he was having second
thoughts wanting to help him.  He sighed to himself and got himself
prepared to receive the bad news.

"Here."  Martin had suddenly stopped.  Michael looked at the road.  There
was nothing unusual about the road.  There were cars parked on either side
and on one side were a row of old warehouses and on the other there was a
row of trees.  Beyond the trees was a slope that led to the main road in
the area.

"Here?"

"Michael, we are on Warwick Road."

Warwick Road.  It was the place that Jimmy was shot.  Michael started to
weep.  He now understood why Martin was quiet.  He had wanted to remember
precisely where Jimmy had lain and told him to look after Michael.  As his
tears subsided, Michael looked at the surroundings again and noticed the
things that marked the spot.  He noticed the tree with a sign hung on it;
the little grate that was on the road four or five feet away from the tree;
the warehouse on the otherside which was marked, "Inner 54".  He took note
also of the special tiles that made up the pavement on the side of the
warehouses.  He took his time to get everything in, so that he would not
forget the place where his beloved Jimmy was shot.

"Thank you Mr. McBain."

"That's not all.  I have found out where Jimmy is buried.  We will visit
him on Saturday morning, if that's okay with you."

Michael was touched.  He hugged Martin again and held on.  Martin began to
get aroused and said, "I don't think this is such a good idea, Michael."

"No, Mr. McBain.  I understand your reaction and I have to trust you.  You
really do care.  Thank you."

An old couple were walking up the road and witnessed the sight.  "Isn't it
nice to see a boy so loving towards his father?"  the woman said to her
husband.

Martin heard the words, and he smiled and waved politely to both of them.
Michael also heard and turned around and waved.  Both of them did not say
anything.  Martin was feeling a little guilty of having an erection about
Michael, who could have been his son.  Michael was beginning to see a side
of Martin that no one had ever seen.

"Let's get back to my flat," Martin said.

They got back to the flat and Michael showed Martin what he had obtained
from the city university.

Martin said, "I know that the Academy of Bio-Chemical Sciences is a better
university.  Why don't you apply there?"

"It is too far from my home.  I would have to wake up at five just to make
it to the university on time for an half past eight lecture."

"You won't have to if you kept your flat."

"But I can't see how I can keep it ...  No. Mr. McBain, you are already
paying so much for me."

Martin smiled, "Look.  I promised that I would look after you.  I intend to
keep my part of the promise.  If you have to take a second rate option, I
will not feel that I have fulfilled my obligation.  Furthermore, I have
looked at the brochure for the Academy and if you work a little harder, you
can complete your degree in two years rather than in three.  I think that
renting that flat for you will save me quite some money."

"I did not think of it that way.  Thank you, Mr. McBain!"  Michael did not
think that Martin's reasons were valid, but he decided to let Martin
decide.  He felt quite sure that Martin just wanted him nearby.  Michael
was not complaining.  He was beginning to see Martin in a different light.
They continued to discuss the possibility that Michael could apply for a
reduction of fees due to the fact that his father was dead and his mother
still had two younger children.  They also broached the question of books
and Martin insisted on giving Michael some pocket money.

"You are going into a tertiary institution.  I am sure that there will be
social functions and such.  I wouldn't like you to miss out on them.  It
would be an opportunity to meet people and make new friends and keep
contacts with old.  If you did not have this expense, how could you grow
socially?"

Michael was not going to argue with Martin.  He could see that Martin was
very excited about helping him out.  He just hoped that the amount he would
have to pay later would not be too much.  Martin then said, "To settle your
debt, you could pay me three hundred a month for ten years or a hundred a
week for one month short of seven years.  Alternatively, you could put one
hundred in a back account every month and then hand that account to me when
I retire."

Michael did some calculations on his own.  "That last one is not right.  To
pay you back at one hundred a month means I have to pay you for thirty
years.  You'll retire in twenty seven years, which means I would be paying
you short!"

"Michael, when I retire, I will have enough to spend for the rest of the
few years that I will have."

"Mr. McBain, I agree that I'll have to pay you.  I will consider the way to
pay you when I get my first job.  Then, I will be in a better judgment to
decide."

"That is a good point.  I won't pursue this matter anymore until you have
found your first job."

"Mr. McBain, have you considered that I could just finish my studies and
than not pay you.  The money you give me is a private arrangement and does
not hold any legality you know.  I would feel better if you draw up some
form of contract that we can both sign and then if anything happens on my
side, you will at least be covered."

"Michael, I have complete trust in you."

"But I will feel safer."

"Alright.  I will see what I can do.  But can I say that all the things
have been settled?"

"Yes."

"Good.  I am going to ask you to stay the night, to return that favour you
gave me two nights ago.  However, I am going to cheat a little.  I have a
guest room and so I won't have to sleep on the sofa.  And, it is already
past twelve."

"It is?" asked Michael.  "Time seems to fly when we are busy."

"Yes it does.  I have already laid a new bar of soap and toothbrush in the
bathroom.  As the guest, you have first use of the bathroom.  Just remember
to leave enough hot water for me."

-----

Michael awoke hearing some shouting.  He looked at his watch.  It was three
in the morning.  He listened carefully and he heard the shouting again.  He
got to Martin's room.  It was unlocked and he opened.  Martin was up with
his knees to his chest, crying.

"Are you okay, Mr. McBain?" Michael asked.

Martin did not answer.  He was still in tears.

"Mr. McBain.  Please speak to me.  I think you need to talk about your
nightmares.  You had one two nights ago. You had one just now.  I don't
think that they are just a coincidence.  I may not be a psychiatrist or a
psychologist, but I am a good listener."

Martin kept quiet, sobbing.  Michael just held on to him.  After a while,
Martin looked at Michael and said, "It is always the same dream."

Martin was speaking like a little boy now.  Though one could see that he
had to be over thirty-five, his manner now was like a little child, a
frightened little child.  "Tell me about it."  Michael spoke in the same
way as he used to speak to Adam or Charlene when they had had a bad dream.

"I used to get this dream of my father punishing me.  It was in the fields.
I don't recognise the place, nor when it was.  He was whipping me.  I was
crying and he was using his belt.  I saw my mother at a distance crying.  I
plead to my father, but he refuses to stop.  I plead to my mother and she
is afraid to come near."

"It's only a dream.  Perhaps it never happened.  Don't get too upset over
it."

"No.  Tonight, I remembered.  Tonight, I saw why I was punished."  Martin
began to tremble.  "I am so ashamed ..."  he broke down into tears.

Michael just held him and comforted him.  He did not know what to do.  He
knew that Martin may have to speak to a professional counselor but he kept
quiet.  He would suggest to Martin in the morning.

Martin calmed down a little and began to speak again, "I am beginning to
understand why I am feeling the way about you and why I am having these
dreams now.  I have to tell you so that you understand."

"Mr. McBain.  If you feel uncomfortable, you don't have to tell me.  I
understand."

"No.  Michael, I need to tell you."  Michael nodded his head and Martin,
with his eyes fixed on nowhere in particular, continued:

This happened when I was thirteen.  I had already begun my puberty.  One of
my classmates from school lived on a farm not far from where we used to
stay.  One day we had gone to the fields to play and he wanted to show me a
new game.  We got behind a haystack and he took of his breeches.  I was
surprised.  I was always told to be decent in front of others.  And now my
good friend was taking off his breeches.  I just stood there.  He saw me
not moving and told me that the game involved showing our dicks.  I was shy
at first but he told me that it was a secret game and no one needed to
know.  I was intrigued.  He had a stiffy.  Looking at him, I also had one.
Then he taught me to masturbate.  I was just starting my growth and so,
unlike him, I had not produced any semen.  But I remember being jealous of
him because he could and I couldn't.  All the same, we both felt good.  For
the rest of the spring that year, I went to his place and we would go
somewhere private and masturbate.  I was sure excited when I produced my
first ejaculation.  Then my friend wanted to try other things.  We begain
masturbating each other and even sucking each other.

My father must have suspected something because he followed me one day
without me knowing.  Just as we were trying to suck each other at the same
time, he burst out of hiding and dragged me away.  My friend fled the
moment he saw my father.  I was brought home and whipped.  My mother was
too afraid to help me because my father was a stern man.  I was left
outside that night because I could hardly stand.

My older brother came out to help me.  My sister was already married and
was not living with us.  He carried me to the shed and helped put medicine
on my back and legs.  He was already twenty-five and was quite a strong
man.  He spent the night with me, comforting me.  He had asked me what
happened but I was too ashamed to tell him.  When my father came to look
for me the next morning, he was gone.  My father thought that I had dragged
myself to the shed and scolded me for not taking it like a man.  He made me
stand and supported me whilst I hobbled back to the house.

I was in bed for the next three days.  My brother always came to see me.
He was always good to me.  Then on the third day, I decided to tell him
what happened.  His face became serious.  He asked me whether he knew why
my father had whipped me.  I told him that it was probably because my
friend and i were undressed in front of each another and we were playing
with our dicks.  He next asked me if I liked my friend a lot.  I remember
that I did not really understand what he meant and he asked me several
times before he was satisfied.  I suppose that he was trying to see if I
had an emotional link to my friend.  I know I didn't because as far as I
know I was just horsing around.  I think he understood that.

The next week, I remembered he had a quarrel with my father.  I heard my
name mentioned but I was too afraid to be around my father when he was
angry.  I looked from my bedroom window and saw my father trying to hit my
brother.  He hit back and in the scuffle, I think he landed a punch on my
father's stomach and my father landed on the floor.  He said something to
my father and then came in.  He came into my bedroom with a small duffle
bag in his hand.  He told me to be careful of my father and that I had to
learn to protect myself from him.  He bid farewell to me and told me that
he would not be coming back anymore.  That was the last time I had seen my
brother.  I cried for days after that.

My father became harder after my brother left.  He always said that I was
the only man left in the house.  I really hated my father because I thought
he had driven my brother away.  I remembered my mother being ill a few
months after that and she was almost dying.  She told me to promise not to
hate my father and to obey him always.  Then she was taken away to a
hospital.  She returned only after four months.  I thought she had died and
had put this whole incident at the back of my mind, trying to forget.

When Martin finished, he looked at Michael and said, "I had always had this
dream but of late it had become more intense.  I had this dream on the
night after I first met you.  The next time I had the dream was two nights
after I had dinner at your house.  I've had that nightmare every night,
since."

Michael said, "Mr. McBain, I think you should need to see someone who can
help you with this.  If you don't you might go mad with these dreams."

"I know.

"Promise me that the first thing you do tomorrow morning is to make an
appointment to see somebody."

"Yes, I will."

Michael gave Martin a hug and said, "Go to sleep now.  If you want me to, I
can sleep with you tonight."

"Thanks Michael, but I don't think that there is a need."

"Okay."

"And Michael?"

"Yes."

"Please call me Martin."

"But ..."

"After what you did for me just now, I realise that in many ways you are
very matured.  I have been your boss, but now you have been a friend.
Please, don't treat me as your boss anymore; you are more of a friend now."

Michael nodded, "Good night, ... Martin."

"Good night."

As Michael went back to his room, he began to think that perhaps Martin was
gay, too.  He had fooled around with his friend, but that was normal.
However, meeting Michael had triggered something inside him that brought
about the guilt complex that his father had instilled so many years before.
Perhaps that guilt complex had prevented Martin from ever really learning
about his own sexuality.  Michael did not finish his thoughts because he
fell asleep.

-----
to be continued.

Author's note:  Comments are welcome, positive and negative.

Some people who wrote to me about my last story "Sam" (also in the
'beginnings' category) liked the biographies.  I have added some similar
stuff here.  I have also tried to be more descriptive as a few of you who
have read my stories have suggested.  Hope you liked it.  Thanks.

solark36@yahoo.co.uk