Date: Sun, 9 Sep 2007 18:04:35 -0600
From: Roy <roynm@mac.com>
Subject: Phalen - Finding Happiness - chapter 18 - gay college section

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 eighteen


by Roy Reinikainen


"Have you seen him in the last few days?"  Brad leaned his elbows on the
kitchen island counter as Greg poured them both a cold drink.  Larry,
Phalen and Jeff remained seated around one of the tables on the patio, the
remnants of a celebration dinner littering the tabletop.  Larry had called
earlier in the afternoon and told them he had resigned and would be
starting a new job across the hall.

Both Phalen and Larry were in rare form tonight, laughing and telling
stories about some of the things that had happened over the years at
Larry's old job.  Brad had tried to take part in the festivities, but
something was holding him back.  When he went inside to refill his glass,
Greg followed.

Both men could hear bursts of laughter through the open doors to the patio.
Greg finished filling the glass with cold water and shook his head in
answer to Brad's question.  There was no need to ask to whom Brad was
referring.  They shared something in common, he and Brad.  They both cared
for the same man.

"No, I haven't heard from him since he came over on the night Dustin was
arrested.  I've called him and left a couple messages, but haven't heard
back.  It's not like him to not return my calls.  Usually, he calls back
within a couple hours at the most."  Greg set the pitcher of ice water on
the counter.  "Have you heard anything?"  Brad compressed his lips and
shook his head.

"No."  He rotated the icy glass of water, lost in thought and looked up to
find Greg watching him, his hand still gripping the pitcher's handle.

"Greg."  He cleared his throat, and paused a moment before continuing with
a bowed head.  "I feel bad talking to you about him.  I mean, you guys are
a couple, and I'm just a . . . someone, who's concerned.  I've been with
him so long, it's tough to stop worrying about him.  Thanks for your
understanding."

Greg leaned on the counter, opposite Brad and spoke in a low voice.  "Brad,
Curt and I aren't a . . ."  He looked up at the sound of the doorbell and
signaled to the men on the patio that he'd see to it.  Phalen waved
acknowledgment and sank back into his chair, immediately embarking on
another story.

Greg trotted through the living room, his bare feet making slight smacking
noises on the polished brick floor.  The brick in the courtyard was still
warm from the afternoon sun as he hefted the heavy courtyard door open.

"Hey," Curt smiled a weary sort of smile.  "If I recall, you said that was
the Finnish word for hi."  Curt stepped past the door and into the
courtyard and opened his arms in a silent invitation.  Greg was intensely
aware of the fact that Brad most likely was watching them from inside the
house.

"Was I right about the word for hi?"  He was answered by Greg's smile and a
nod.

"It's one of the words.  I wouldn't have thought you'd remember."  He held
Curt at arm's length.

"What's this?"  He nodded to the long stemmed red rose wrapped in white
tissue paper, in Curt's hand.

"Oh, yeah." He held the rose out for Greg to take.  "This is for you.  It's
something of an apology for ignoring you during the past few days."  He
leaned close for another deep and lingering kiss.

"Thank you, Curt."  Greg inhaled the heady fragrance of the rose.  "This is
the first time anyone has given me a flower."  He smiled brightly as he
continued.  "Once, I would have claimed receiving a flower from someone
special was meaningless.  I would have been wrong."  He put his arm around
Curt's shoulder.

"C'mon inside.  We're having a celebration.  Larry's moving to a new job."

"I'd love to, Greg, but I can't.  I'm heading over to the parents' house.
We're going downtown to see Dustin."  Curt became serious.  "I told him
that the man he called names and tried to frame, is the man I'm dating."
He looked away.  "I don't know what I hoped to prove.  I just had to say
*something.* It was either that or wring his neck, and I didn't think that
would be too cool to do inside a jail."  His lips twisted into a lopsided
grin.

"Now, I've got to run.  I'll try and be better about keeping in touch."  He
leaned forward for another kiss, groping Greg's butt through his shorts at
the same time.  "I'd much rather get naked and climb into a big bed with
you, than go downtown."  He sighed as he took a step back.  "If the parents
weren't waiting, that's exactly what I'd invite you to do."  He turned on
his heel and pulled the courtyard door open.

"Adios," he laughed.  "Sorry, I don't know the right word for good-bye."

"Nakemiin," Greg called with a smile as the door closed.  He leaned his
back against the door and waited until he heard Curt toot his horn twice
and drive off before he guiltily glanced at the rose and then toward the
brightly lit kitchen.

'This *had* to happen with Brad looking on,' he thought to himself as he
headed back inside.

"He . . . wanted to apologize for not returning my telephone calls."  Greg
explained as he crossed the living room and walked into the kitchen.  He
glanced at the rose, seemingly embarrassed by its presence.  "He told me a
few days ago he has a big project going on, and then on top of it, he's had
to deal with the mess surrounding his brother.  I asked if he could stay,
but he was on his way downtown to see Dustin."

Greg fidgeted uncomfortably.  "I'm sorry you had to see that, Brad.  I'm
sorry for *this.*" He nodded to the rose, releasing his grip on the white
tissue paper wrapping and setting the rose on the counter.  "Is everything
okay . . . between the two of us?  I mean, I've hardly gotten to know you.
I'm feeling very awkward, right now."

Brad rested a comforting hand on top of Greg's.  "Yes, things are fine."
He glanced at Greg's skeptical expression.  "Really.  We're both in an
uncomfortable position.  I understand completely.  It's . . . it's rough.
That's all."

"I hate it that I'm the person who seems to be making things more difficult
for you.  I assure you, it was never my intention."

"Whenever you're with him, are you happy?"  Greg didn't have to think to
know how to respond.

"Yes, happier than I've ever been.  He lets me be *me.* He doesn't judge
me, or pressure me.  He listens."

"Sounds wonderful."  Brad hesitated.  "Do you love him?"

Once again, Greg didn't have to think before responding.  "No.  I don't
love him.  I like him, very much.  He's a wonderful man who has made me
feel good about myself and my sexual orientation.  I'd like to think I've
been able to help him out a little, as well.  He's carrying around a lot of
weight on his shoulders and has a tendency to think that he's personally
responsible for everyone's problems."

"Some of what he feels probably comes from work, where they've put a lot of
responsibility on his shoulders, but I think most of it comes from feelings
of . . . guilt."  Greg spoke the last word warily, unsure how much he
should say to Brad about Curt.  He knew Curt continued to feel deeply about
Brad, but he wasn't sure how far beyond mere, concern, Brad's feelings
about Curt went.  After all, he and Larry appeared to be very happy with
one another.

"You mean, he still feels personally responsible for what happened between
him and me?"  Greg slowly nodded.

"I guess.  Some.  He's slowly working through his feelings.  That's one of
the reasons he's spending so much time at work, trying to do everyone's job
plus his own.  He wants to prove to himself . . . and others . . . that
he's a person worthy of being . . ."  Greg paused, trying to think of the
correct word.  "I don't know.  Loved might be too strong a word to use in
relation to his work."

"He needs to be told he's a good guy.  When it comes to work, he's brimming
with confidence.  With everything else, it's as if he's . . . walking on
eggshells, afraid he might say or do something that will demonstrate to
everyone how vulnerable he really is."  Greg took a deep breath, releasing
it slowly.

"Believe me, Brad.  I know what it means to carry around that sort of
vulnerability.  It eats away at you until, before long, you are afraid to
do or say anything for fear of being verbally attacked and ridiculed."

Brad ran the tip of a forefinger over one petal of the red rose bud.  "It
seems as if he's a different person from the one I knew."  He nodded toward
the rose.  Greg looked at Brad with a crooked grin, watching as he
continued to unconsciously . . . caress . . . the flower with a fingertip.

"Curt's trying to be the man he feels he *should* have been, whenever the
two of you were together.  The most difficult thing though, is for him to
begin liking himself."  He gave Brad a wry smile.  "I *also* personally
know how difficult learning to like oneself can be."

"Do you think he'll be able to . . . succeed . . . in . . . finding
himself?" Greg thought a moment, and then nodded slowly.

"Yes, I think so . . . with the help of someone who loves him."  Greg's
meaningful glance seemed to elude Brad, who continued to stare at the
flower lying on the countertop.

"Good," he finally said.  "When he finds himself, he's going to make
someone a good partner.  I think you both are very lucky you have one
another."

Greg laid a hand on Brad's shoulder in gentle rebuke.  "Brad . . . I hate
to say it, but you haven't been listening to me."  He walked around the
counter and headed toward the patio where everyone was laughing, caught up
in one of Phalen's stories.  He turned and looked over his shoulder.

"Before you join us, take a moment and think about everything I've just
said."

Brad seemed to finally realize Greg was no longer standing opposite him,
leaning on the counter.  He looked up with a start and then turned to look
over his shoulder to where Greg was watching him, one hand on the door
frame.  The conversation on the patio continued uninterrupted.

"Huh?"  Brad blushed and turned in his chair.  "I'm sorry, Greg.  I guess I
was so caught up in my own thoughts that I wasn't really paying attention
to everything you were saying.  You wanted me to think about what you
said?"

Greg nodded and then waited while Brad sat quietly, trying to dredge up a
hint of what he should be thinking of.

"Geez, I'm sorry.  I was thinking about . . . something else."  An uneasy
smile twitched at the corners of his lips.  "What is it I should be
thinking about?"

Greg stepped close and rested a hand lightly on Brad's shoulder, focusing
his attention.  "Brad . . . Curt and I are not a couple.  Think about it."

The silence dragged on as Brad seemed to digest what he had just been told.
His eyes flicked to Greg and then away before returning.

"Oh.  But, the rose . . . the kisses, and hugs.  What do they mean?"

"Think about it."  Greg turned and stepped out onto the patio, pulling up a
chair.

When Phalen looked over his shoulder to see if Brad would be joining them
on the patio, he saw Brad leaning with his back to the kitchen island
counter, his head tilted back and his eyes closed.  One hand hung limply at
his side.  As Phalen watched, Brad tilted his head forward and brought the
rose he was holding in other hand to his nose and inhaled deeply, his
mobile mouth seeming to quiver on the verge of a smile.


----------


Larry stepped from the elevator to the thickly carpeted elevator lobby,
something he'd done almost every day for the past eighteen years, only this
time he did so with a spring in his step.  Today he was starting a new job.
He was free of Mr. Casey and the office backstabbing he had endured for
what seemed an eternity.

He looked toward his old office, giving a jaunty salute to the two
receptionists behind the immense counter.  "Brad called the two women,
vultures."  Larry could only smile at the allusion, seeing the resemblance
for the first time.

They turned up their collective downward curving noses, causing his smile
to brighten.  They'd done essentially the same thing each morning for
years.  At least today he didn't have to bite his tongue and greet them
civilly.  They were safely caged behind the glass wall, and he was free!

He paused a moment as he stepped from the elevator lobby into the brightly
lit reception room with an enormous painting of an Arizona sunset gracing
one of the walls.  The perky receptionist smiled a good morning greeting
which caused him to pause longer, almost jubilant to find himself in such a
wonderful setting.

'I love it here,' he thought, returning her greeting with a bright smile of
his own, dimples and all.  She seemed to glow with appreciation, giving him
a shy wave as he headed down the hallway to his office.

Mikko Halonen, head of the new office, walked alongside Andrew Johnston,
the man who had taught Larry what it meant to be gay.  Under different
circumstances, he and Andrew might have become a couple.  Things had not
worked out, and each had gone their separate ways, content to remain
friends.

"Hey men," he said, holding his arms out to his sides.  "What an absolutely
beautiful morning this is!  My first day, and I'm already loving this
place."  He looked from side to side.  The peaceful colors extended from
the lobby down the corridor, as did the colorful artwork.  Very few office
doors were closed, unlike his old office.  He could even hear laughter in
the distance.  It was such a change from the old office he didn't know
quite what to think.

"Good morning." Mikko returned Larry's smile and patted him on the back in
lieu of a handshake.  "I'm just heading out.  Maybe you and Andrew would
like to have a cup of coffee, or something.  I'll catch up with you after
you get settled in."  He gave Andrew a brief hug before heading down the
corridor, leaving Andrew to follow Larry to his sun-filled office.

Andrew turned to him the moment the office door closed.  "May I give one of
my favorite men a hug," he asked, wearing a hopeful expression at the same
time he held his arms wide.

Larry stepped into the welcoming embrace, blushing when Andrew gave him a
quick kiss on the cheek.  Andrew chuckled as he sat down and studied Larry,
pleased he could still make Larry blush.  The pinkish flush of his cheeks,
along with his smile and accompanying dimples were, he thought, two of
Larry's most endearing features.  He was much like Phalen, a little boy in
an adult's body.

"I've not heard from you lately, handsome."  Larry seemed to be caught
off-guard by Andrew's use of his old term of endearment.  "How are you and
your young architect doing?"  Larry leaned back in his chair and took a
deep breath.

"Andrew, I'm going to prevail upon you for some advice."

"As a psychiatrist, I don't give advice, Larry.  You know that.  I listen
and help a person come to a solution for a problem.  The person decides
what to do."  Larry made a placating gesture.

"Now," Andrew continued, "what do you need to talk about?  Are things going
okay between you and Brad?"  Larry shrugged.

"I don't know."  He paused a moment and then amended his statement.  "No,
not really."  Andrew leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and
studied the man across from him.

"Brad's not over Curt yet.  I don't think he ever will be."  The sunny
office suddenly didn't seem quite as cheery as it had a few minutes
earlier.  "I've tried to keep myself from falling in love with him
. . . without a whole lot of success."  Larry sighed, idly rotating his
chair from side to side.

"I'm thinking that the best thing I could do for both of us would be to
. . . let him know that it's okay to leave.  At least that way he would be
free to find his own way.  Right now, I believe he stays with me because
he's feeling indebted to me for providing him a place to stay after he left
Jeff's."  Larry stopped a moment and then continued.  "I shouldn't have
said that.  I'm not being fair to him.  He's such a sensitive guy, I think
he may be fearing he'll hurt me."  Larry took a deep breath and released it
slowly.

"He *will* hurt me if he leaves, but I don't want to keep him from doing
what he would like to do, either."

Andrew continued to lean forward, resting his elbows on his knees,
seriously taking in everything Larry said.

"Well, what do you think?"

Andrew sat back in his chair and sighed.  "I think you've pretty much
decided what you want to do.  I'm very sorry it hasn't worked out the way
you hoped.  Brad is such a wonderful guy . . . as are you."


----------


Brad tried to scoot closer, draping an arm over Larry's bare chest.  Even
in the darkened room, he could see Larry's contented smile, a reaction to
their just-completed lovemaking as well as the infectious laughter coming
from next door.  It seemed as if Phalen, Jeff and Greg were having a very
good time.

Life was good.  His job at the architecture school was going well.  Larry
was enjoying his new job immensely, and their love life was close to
perfect.  He should have been happy.

"Counselor?"  Brad spoke from where he had nestled his head in the crook of
Larry's shoulder.  He inhaled deeply of the mingled sweat of both their
bodies, as much a sensuous experience as feeling Larry's naked body next to
his.  He could feel his penis stir at the thoughts of feeling Larry's
weight atop him, of feeling Larry penetrate him, of the taste . . . and
feel, of Larry's tongue, lapping at his hole, teasing his nipples and
tongue as they kissed.  Larry was such a wonderful kisser.  He could almost
cum with nothing more than the feel of Larry's tongue in his mouth, and the
low sounds of pleasure he made as passion overtook them both.

"Counselor," he repeated.  Larry tenderly ran his fingers through Brad's
still-damp hair.

"Hmmm?"

"What are we going to do . . . about us, I mean" Larry's fingers hesitated
and then continued.  Brad could feel his breathing change.

"I don't know."  He drew Brad close, with an arm around his shoulder.  "You
tell me what you want.  That's what we'll do."

Brad shifted position, propping himself up on his elbows and gave Larry a
bewildered look.

"That's not fair.  What if what I want isn't what *you* want? We need to
have some sort of discussion so we have a meeting of minds . . . or
something.  Don't you think?"

"What is it you want, Brad?"  Larry continued to lie on his back, his head
turned to look at Brad, only inches away.  "Have you given it any thought?
Do you know?"  Brad once again rested his head on Larry's chest, feeling
his slow breathing, and nodded.

"I've thought about it a lot.  Sometimes, it seems as if that's all I think
about."

"And . . ."

"I want to love you, Larry.  I want it more than . . . just about
. . . anything."

"But . . ."

Brad bit his lip.  His next words would forever change his relationship
with Larry.

"But," Larry repeated, trying to coax a response.

"But, I don't."  Brad's voice broke, and he took a ragged breath as Larry
continued to caress his shoulder.

"Shhhh, it's okay."  Larry kissed the top of Brad's head.  "Really."

Brad once again propped himself up on his elbows.  "No it's not okay!
You're the most wonderful man I have ever known.  You are *everything* I
want in a man.  You listen to me.  You laugh and joke.  We have lots in
common.  I have fun with you.  I love our time together, whether we're
trying to cook something, or having sex, or just sitting next to one
another, holding hands.  Like I said, you are everything I could possibly
want."

"It's like I love you whenever I'm with you.  But, when we're not together
. . . I . . . don't.  You're so good to me.  I'm not being fair to you."

"Brad, listen to me, please.  We're not talking about what either one of us
thinks is fair.  Love doesn't follow those type of rules.  What solution
have you arrived at, since you've thought so much about this?  Have you
thought of one?"

"I don't know.  Maybe we've not been together long enough.  I'm always away
at work, or you are.  We've had to catch our time together.  Maybe
. . . with some more time . . ."

"You might grow to love me?"

Brad reluctantly nodded.  "Yes."

"Do you think such a thing is likely to happen?"

Brad sounded like a little boy.  "I don't know.  Maybe."

"Tell me, Brad.  What are you afraid of?  Are you afraid if we continue on
as we have been that you will never love me, that you'll end up feeling
trapped . . . what?"

"I'm afraid of hurting you.  I don't want to.  I know what it's like to
hurt because of the actions of someone you love.  You *do* love me
. . . don't you?  You haven't said anything, but I can tell.  I don't want
to hurt you."  The last words seemed wrenched out of him.

"Shhhh."  Larry tried to keep both his voice and fingers from shaking; his
voice as he spoke, his fingers as he tried to comfort Brad.  "All of us
live with hurt, Brad.  If we stop to examine things, we're all hurting
about something, most of which we have no control over."

"Yes, I love you," Larry continued.  "I've tried not to, but I do.  But,
loving you is not a . . . a . . . rope, I can use to tie you to me.  What
kind of love would that be, to know you're staying with me only because I
somehow coerced you?  I would be taking advantage of your fear of hurting
me to keep you close.  You speak of fairness.  *That* would certainly not
be fair."

"You don't need me to set you free, Brad.  You need me to tell you I won't
hurt if you leave.  I can't do that."  He gave Brad a wan smile in the dim
light.  "Now, don't look like that.  You'll only make me want to cry and
that just . . . wouldn't do."  His voice trailed off.

They both stared into one another's eyes, memorizing the other, tucking the
moment away in a secret corner, a fond memory to be recalled in a distant
future.

He tilted Brad's head up with a finger under the chin and gave him a brave
smile, ignoring the single tear that rolled down Brad's cheek.

"There.  We've had our discussion, and as usual whenever I'm involved in
any sort of discussion, I've done most of the discussing.  'Can't get a
word in edgewise,' Phalen always complains.  That's why he talks so much
since he left home."  One of Brad's tears landed on Larry's wrist and
rolled off, onto the bed below.  Still, he was able to give Larry a
wavering smile.

"There, that's what I was hoping to see.  A smile."  He brushed another
tear away with his forefinger and drew Brad's head down to his chest, one
last time.  He could already feel the letting go . . . the gradual
withdrawal, leaving him with a feeling of deep melancholy.

"So, are we in agreement?"

Brad sniffed once and nodded slowly, clearly overcome with emotion.  "Thank
you, Larry.  Friends?"

"More than friends, Brad.  Always."


----------


Brad stepped into the house and slowly closed the door behind him.  His
mother looked over her shoulder from where she was working on something at
the kitchen counter and smiled.

"Brad, what a wonderful surprise."  She wiped her hands on a dish towel and
opened her arms for an embrace, instantly knowing something was wrong.
"Larry," she asked, holding Brad at arm's length.

Brad heaved a ragged sigh, once again stepping into his mother's supportive
embrace.  She rubbed a comforting hand over his back as he rested his head
on her shoulder and tried to control his emotions.  He snorted a soft
laugh.

"Mom, when you were a child, and you hurt your finger . . . or something
bad happened, you'd think you had everything under control . . . until
you'd see your mother?  Then, whenever she put her arms around you and
hugged, you'd want to cry?"  She patted him in gentle understanding.
"Well, that's the way I'm feeling, right now."  He took a deep ragged
breath.

"Mom, Larry and I have decided it's best for us not to try and be a
. . . couple."  His mother's hands hesitated only a second before
continuing to try and comfort him.

"He loves me.  I don't love him.  I want to . . . I just . . . don't."
Brad stepped out of his mother's embrace and turned his back on her.  "He's
so damned understanding!"  He heaved a laugh.  "I guess I'd feel better if
he tried to make me feel guilty, or . . . *something*!"  He pulled out a
chair from the kitchen table and plopped down with a tired grunt,
stretching his legs out in front of him.

"I feel like shit."  He glanced up with a comic grimace.  "Sorry 'bout the
language."  His mother made an understanding gesture.

"No you're not.  That's how you feel.  It's totally understandable, so
there's no need to feel sorry."  She pulled out a chair and sat opposite
him.

"It seems to me as if you think you *should* feel guilty about . . . this
decision, but you don't.  Am I right?"  Brad bowed his head, barely
shrugging his agreement.  "At the same time, you're feeling
. . . relieved?"  He glanced up.  "Maybe, relieved, is too strong a word,
but you know what I mean."  If possible, Brad seemed to sink in upon
himself even further.

"You love Larry, don't you," he asked.  His mother nodded.  "And Dad does,
and all my *brothers* do!"  Brad stood and walked across the kitchen,
opening the refrigerator and poured himself a glass of cold water.  "Hell,
everyone loves Larry.  He's intelligent, thoughtful, fun to be around,
handsome, caring, playful . . . great in bed."  His mother once again
silently gestured her understanding as he downed the water in one
continuous gulp and then set the glass down onto the kitchen counter with a
clink.

"He's all the things I'm looking for in a partner.  Hell, I even told you
and Dad that very thing, not too long after Larry and I met.  Well, he *is*
all the things I'm looking for."  Brad sat down once again and cradled his
head as he leaned on the table with his elbows.  "He's just not the
*person* I'm looking for."

"Do you . . . happen, to know of such a person," his mother ventured.

Brad shrugged.  "I don't know."  The slow shake of his head became a single
embarrassed nod.  "I guess . . . I do."

"Curt?"

He slowly nodded.

"Yeah . . . Curt."  Brad heaved a sigh.  "The only problems is, I don't
know if he still loves me."


-----------


'Finally, the weather is tolerable.'  Even so, Greg was looking forward to
getting home and changing into something more comfortable, something which
left much more skin exposed.  He shook his head in amazement.  'Only a few
months ago, I couldn't have envisioned myself *enjoying* wearing no shoes,
no shirt, and shorts!  I have a long way to go though, before I'm
comfortable running around naked, like Jeff and Phalen.'

He thought back to the encounter the three of them had in Jeff's sauna.  It
had been one of the most exciting things in his life, to watch his brother
masturbate.  Phalen had been pretty easy on the eyes, as well, he grinned
to himself.  He wondered if Jeff had been aware that he was the center of
attention.  The moment he saw Jeff's cock spew its first jet of sperm, his
own orgasm had swept over him.  The look on Jeff's face was
. . . priceless.  His eyes were closed, his mouth open wide, taking deep
breaths as his hips automatically tried to thrust his erection through the
encircling fingers.

It was wonderful to watch Jeff . . . and Phalen, but then to have Phalen
extend his hand with its puddle of Jeff's sperm, encouraging him to lick
it, created nightly fantasies!  Greg shivered with the sensuousness of the
act.  Even now, if he closed his eyes, he could taste his brother's thick
cum as he licked a broad swath across Phalen's palm.  He would not have
swallowed so soon if Phalen hadn't offered a sample of his own sperm in his
other hand.  Phalen's was . . . sweeter, thinner.  Jeff's tasted much like
his own, thick and slightly salty.

His feelings toward Jeff puzzled him.  He had never been attracted to Jeff
sexually while they were growing up.  He shuddered, thinking how awful it
would have been for Jeff had he made such an overture, considering his
brother's childhood abuse at the hands of his second grade teacher.  Every
time Greg thought of what Jeff had had to go through he wanted to hit
something.  His parents should have realized something was going on.
*Someone* should have!

Still, every time Jeff walked across the room, his flaccid penis swinging
from side to side and his tight buttocks flexing, Greg found himself
fantasizing what it might be like for the two of them to have sex.  After
each fantasy he chided himself for even *thinking* such things, but the
fantasies continued.

'I'm just horny,' he thought.  'Most guys get all this out of their system
when they're teenagers.  Me, *I* have to wait until I'm nearly thirty!'

He turned the corner.  Jeff's house lay at the far end of the palm-lined
street, standing out from its neighbors because it was so different from
them.  He chuckled.  'It was just like Jeff, to do something different.
Everyone thinks he's so timid!'  Greg shook his head and smiled.  'Timid,
my foot!  The man is far more aggressive than even *he* is aware of.  It
just shows up in different ways.  And,' Greg continued, returning to
earlier thoughts.  'And, he's damned sexy.'

He frowned as, in the distance, he saw Larry kneeling on the sidewalk,
digging something up.  He'd stab the hand trowel into the earth and yank
out a hapless plant before tossing it on a growing heap.  Another stab
. . . yank . . . toss, and another.  He sat back on his heels and surveyed
what he was doing, wiping his brow.  'It's not normal for Larry to be home
so early in the afternoon.'  Larry stood, adjusted his Arizona State
baseball cap, and studied the plot of bare ground in front of him with his
hands on his hips.  A pile of forlorn greenery sat wilting on the sidewalk
a few feet away.  Nearby, a flat of bright yellow flowers sat awaiting
planting.

Larry stretched, the sheen of perspiration glistening on the bare skin of
his back and shoulders, and noticed Greg approaching.  His face lit in a
bright smile as he waved a greeting.

"Hey, Greg!  How's it going?"  He nodded to the plants waiting patiently at
his feet.  "I'm playing gardener this afternoon.  It's been a while since
I've had a chance to crawl around in the front yard and get all grubby."
He lowered his voice, barely above a conspiratorial whisper.  "Don't let
the poor plants know, but I don't have a clue as to what I'm doing.  The
poor things are most likely destined to die of thirst, or a horrible
illness I won't be able to diagnose."  His dark blue eyes sparkled as he
chuckled at his own joke.

"I'm surprised you're home so early."  Greg watched, transfixed by a bead
of sweat as it made a glistening trail over Larry's chest and down his
belly, finally disappearing in the waistband of his running shorts.  He
guiltily returned his attention to the man in front of him.

"Yeah, well. . ."  The sparkle in Larry's eyes was gone, as was the smile.

"What's wrong?  Is it the new job?  I thought you were thrilled with it."

Larry took off the baseball cap and ran his fingers through his sweat-damp
hair.  "No, nothing's wrong with the job.  It's good though that my boss is
gay.  He told me to take a few days off."

"Why?  What happened?"

"Greg, Brad and I split up last night."  He hurried on before Greg could
collect his thoughts and offer some sort of condolences.  "It's probably
the best thing to do for *both* of us, though right now it's pretty rough.
I imagine *he's* feeling worse.  The man is determined to feel guilty."

Greg reached out and squeezed Larry's shoulder in understanding.  There was
really nothing he could say to make things easier.  It wasn't as if he were
totally shocked by the separation.  He hoped Larry had not detected his
hesitation as a thought occurred to him.

'Larry and Brad have started a domino effect, I think.  It's only a matter
of time until Brad gets in touch with Curt.'  He glanced at Larry with a
slightly guilty smile.

"I hope both of you find the person that *is* right."  He glanced down at
the yellow flowering plants.  "Do those have to be stuck in the ground,
right now?"  Larry shook his head, replacing the baseball cap.

"Then, let's clean this up and you can come over for a beer . . . or four
. . ."



~ 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