Date: Sat, 3 Nov 2007 21:01:35 -0600
From: Roy <roynm@mac.com>
Subject: Phalen - Finding Happiness - chapter 20

This story is entirely fictional, and any resemblances to actual persons
are completely coincidental.  Actual locations are mentioned, and are used
for 'background' only.


'Phalen - Finding Happiness'
Chapter twenty


by Roy Reinikainen


Curt closed the phone, thinking of the thwarted sexual release he had been
seeking a few minutes earlier.  'Well, no hope for it now,' he thought, as
he trotted back to the balcony scanning for anything in need of
straightening.  Finding nothing, he gathered up his clothing and headed for
the bedroom and the promised shower, mumbling as he went.

"I get all sexed-up and . . . poof . . . nothing."  He raised his arms and
then dropped them to his sides.  "I shoulda cum when I was thinking about
Brad and me in the forest with those two guys.  That was so hot."

He had no sooner finished hanging up his clothes when the security desk
clerk rang, notifying him Greg had arrived and was on his way to the
elevator.

"Already?"  Curt released the intercom button and threw up his arms in
exasperation.  "Geez, when he called to say he was coming over, was he
calling from the friggin' parking lot, or what?"  He reached into the
bathroom, grabbed a towel, and wrapped it around his waist as he headed to
the front door.  A moment earlier he was feeling sexually frustrated, now
he was feeling harried.  First, his orgasm was halted, and now his shower.

"I've gotta get a shower," he mumbled as the doorbell rang.  "Nothing else
unexpected better happen this evening or I'm going to be seriously
annoyed."  He schooled his expression and opened the door.  He couldn't
blame Greg for interrupting his erotic fantasies, besides, *he* had been
part of the fantasy.  Greg greeted him, wearing a bright smile, and then
kissed him as he walked into the house and headed for the kitchen.  He set
the bags of groceries down and turned back to Curt.

"Oooh, nice," he smiled, looking Curt up and down.  "I love the towel.  If
I didn't already know, I'd be dying of curiosity, wondering what's
underneath.

"I should have warned you I'd be here quickly," he continued, as he
unloaded the two bags and began meal preparations.  His smile was one of
contentment, as he looked up to see Curt leaning on the kitchen island
counter, watching him.  "But, I got here even more quickly than I
anticipated.  I called from the small market at the transit center, so I
didn't have far to go to get here.  Your next door neighbor recognized me
as I was walking out the door, and offered me a ride in her fancy car; so
here I am!"  He held his arms out to his sides and smiled.  "It looks as if
I got here before you had a chance to shower, yes?"

Curt nodded and returned the infectious smile.  Greg was in a rare,
talkative mood.

"You're in high spirits this evening."  He accepted a glass of wine from
his smiling guest who nodded in agreement.

"Kippis," Greg said as their wine glasses touched in a toast.  "Good
friends, good times, and handsome men who answer their door wearing
towels."  He wiggled his eyebrows, suggestively, a behavior of Phalen's he
seemed to have adopted.

"Cheers," Curt repeated, sipping the wine.  He could feel the effects of
the dark red liquid, causing him to began to relax.  He found himself
returning Greg's smile, laughing at his jokes, the memories of his earlier
sexual frustration fading away.

"You are amazing."  Curt shook his head in wonder as Greg closed the oven
door and turned back to him.  "Even when I'm watching you, I can't figure
out how you manage to throw things together and come up with a culinary
masterpiece."  Greg smiled brightly, seemingly pleased with the praise.

"What can I say," he replied in a deadpan voice.  "I've got a rare talent.
I've also been told that I've got sensitive fingers, and a talented
tongue," he continued, in a mischievous voice.

"Oh, and who told you *that?*" Curt surrendered himself to the combined
effects of the wine and Greg's playfulness.  "Whoever it was, probably made
their comments after cursory observations.  I'm sure he'd benefit with some
more firsthand experience."

Greg's throaty chuckle was extremely sexy.  "Mmmm, would he now?"  He
wrapped Curt in what began as a loose embrace, but ended in a deep,
passionate kiss.  When the two men reluctantly separated, Curt was left
feeling breathless.

'What's happening to me,' he thought, feeling his erection strain at the
front of the confining towel.  'I'm in love with Brad, yet here I am,
desperately wanting to have sex with someone else.'  Greg's splayed fingers
moved over his back and worked their way beneath the back of the towel,
causing it to drop to the floor.

"Mmmm, yes," he murmured next to Curt's eat.  "Sexy, sexy man."  He teased
the skin of Curt's buttocks with his fingertips, and then began kneading
them, pulling Curt closer for another kiss.

"Do you mind if I join you in the shower?  It's going to be a while until
dinner's ready, and suddenly I'm feeling awfully . . . grubby."  He took
Curt's hand and led him to the bedroom.  "Do you think you can help me
out?"

Curt felt as if his body were betraying him.  His erection was throbbing,
aching for release.  He wanted to feel Greg's cock pulse as it emptied
itself down his throat.  He wanted Greg to continue kissing him, to feel
his passion build with the intensity of his kisses.

"Mmmm, that's so nice," Greg murmured after another lingering kiss, his
eyes crinkling at the corners in suppressed playfulness.  "The rest of the
package isn't too bad either."

He shed his clothes, dropping them in a heap on the carpeted floor.  "Let's
get in the shower."  With that he turned and walked into the bathroom,
turning on a dim light, humming all the while.

Curt couldn't help himself.  He compared the sexually assertive man who was
motioning for him to step into the shower, with the shy, withdrawn man of a
few months earlier.  The Greg of a few months ago rarely smiled.  He was
afraid of being touched, of being nude . . . afraid of being unable to
perform.

Today, Greg was confident.  He smiled broadly, aggressively sought sex, and
made sure his partner was as satisfied as he.  Curt had to admit Greg was
imminently able to satisfy him.  Merely watching him move across the room
was exciting.  On other people, the flawless skin might have seemed
effeminate.  On Greg, just as on his brother Jeff, the skin contrasting
with the dark hair on chest, pubes and legs, was fantastically sexy.  Of
course, the way the muscles of Greg's smooth butt would flex with each
step, and the way his straight erection preceded him was enough to
stimulate his own firm reaction.

He stepped into the shower and sank to his knees before that erection, and
then opened wide and took the entire length down his throat.  Greg gasped
in pleasure, both at the feeling of Curt's throat muscles massage his
penis, and at the feather-light touch of Curt's fingers on his scrotum.  It
was almost as if Curt were massaging them in hopes of stimulating a larger
load of sperm.  The touch was electric . . . insistent.

Curt slid back down the length, his tongue playing across the underside of
Greg's erection for a few moments before once again burying his face in the
dense mat of black pubic hair.  Greg spread his feet wider apart and
reached out a hand to the tiled wall, in an attempt to steady himself.  The
sight of his penis disappearing into the mouth of the man kneeling before
him was thrilling.  He grasped Curt's head and began thrusting his hips,
aggressively sliding his erection over Curt's tongue.

It would only be a moment longer.  He forced himself into Curt's throat
once last time and then withdrew, just as the first high pressure stream of
sperm shot into Curt's mouth.  He could feel Curt swallow, once
. . . twice, as Curt's fingers grabbed at the muscles of his butt, pulling
him closer, his throat milking Greg's erection of the last few drops.

"Mmmm, that was wonderful."  He grinned at the breathless, slightly glazed
expression as he wiped the trickle of escaped sperm back into Curt's mouth
with his fingers.  Not content to only lick the fingers clean, Curt closed
his lips around them and began sucking, making soft mewling sounds of
pleasure.

"Ahh," he sighed, reluctantly freeing the fingers.  He stood and slowly ran
the same fingertips over the swell of Greg's chest, pausing to tease his
nipples.  "This is like some sort of fantasy . . . being here with you
. . . an incredibly sexy man, tasting your sperm, and your tongue."  His
lips turned up into a devilish smile a moment before he backed Greg against
the shower wall and kissed him, deeply and thoroughly.

"What is your fantasy, Greg," he asked as they separated.  "What gets you
so excited you can barely stand it?"

Greg didn't have to think.  He reached out, and began stroking Curt's
erection as he spoke.  "Losing my virginity, with Jeff and Phalen fucking
next to me.  I guess I'd like to see the two of them have sex, and to have
them watch me.  Quite a change from the man you met a few months ago, yes?"
He squeezed Curt's erection tighter as his strokes speeded up.  I've
masturbated with them . . . and licked their cum off of Phalen's hand."  He
grinned at Curt's surprised expression.  "I'd like to . . . do more
though."

"Damn," Curt exhaled, slowly.  "That is sooo hot.  Are you suggesting that
we . . ."  Curt also found the idea of having sex in the same room with
Phalen and Jeff more than exciting.  It was the stuff of
wet-dream-fantasies.  He could almost see Jeff, a slightly younger version
of the man in front of him, climbing on top of Phalen, aiming his erection
at Phalen's asshole, and then slowly sinking its full length into Phalen,
in one move.  It was easy to imagine doing the same thing to Greg, only
inches away from where Phalen was begging Jeff to thrust harder.

He imagined the sight of Jeff's erection stretching Phalen's hole wide, his
testicles slapping against Phalen with each forward stroke.

He could imagine filling Greg's hole with his sperm as he watched the two
men next to him and Greg.  One of his first thoughts.  'Greg is a virgin.
I won't have to use a condom.'  That thought alone, was enough to bring him
to the brink of his own orgasm.  He'd never fucked anyone without a condom,
and he had never confided to anyone that *that* was one of his major
fantasies; to feel his cock repeatedly contract as it pulsed its contents
into a willing hole, then, as his orgasm subsided, to feel the intense heat
of his own sperm surrounding his cock as he continued to slowly move in and
out.  He'd often imagined what it would be like to slip free, and then see
his own cum begin to drool out of a sloppy hole.  The thought caused him to
gasp.

Greg knelt in front of him, opening his mouth wide.  He knew Curt's orgasm
was only moments away, and he wanted to taste Curt's thick, sweet sperm.
He felt Curt rest the tip of his penis on his tongue, scarcely a moment
before it began to shoot.  He could hear Curt's sharp indrawn breath,
followed a moment later by a sigh.

"Ohhhh, Brad." The murmur was barely loud enough to be heard over the spray
of the water.  "So good, babe."

Greg swallowed, the sperm which no longer tasted quite so sweet.  He closed
his eyes and sat back on his heels feeling as if he had been kicked in the
stomach.  'Brad', he thought, bowing his head in silent, sudden, misery.
'Will I never be appreciated for being myself?'

Curt squatted in front of him, wearing a smile of satisfaction, unaware of
what had happened.  He ran a finger over Greg's jaw quirking his eyebrows.
"You okay?"  Greg nodded, trying to smile around a pain far greater than he
would have expected.  'After all,' he thought.  'I don't love this man.  I
told Brad as much the other night.  I shouldn't expect any . . . allegiance
. . . from him.  Still,' he thought, 'those few unguarded words hurt.'

He took a deep breath, steeling himself for what he knew he must do.

"C'mon sexy," he said, standing and holding out a hand.  "Let's finish this
shower.  As much as I'd like to stay in here and admire your fabulous body,
I don't want our dinner to burn."

An hour later they had finished their dinner, cloaked in an uneasy silence.
Curt, finally could take it no longer.  He set his fork down and studied
the man across the table from him.  Greg returned a wan smile, completely
at odds with his behavior when he arrived.

"All right," Curt said.  "Something's going on.  This is too quiet, even
for you.  What's wrong?  Is something going on at work?  Let me know if
there's anything I can do.  What is it?"  Greg slowly shook his head.

"No, nothing like that."  He inhaled deeply, releasing his breath in a
slow, steady, exhale.  "I was just thinking about us . . . you and me."

"I see."  Curt stared at his unfinished meal for a moment before adding.
"I take it I'm about to hear some bad news."  The wan smile remained as
Greg met his eyes from across the table.  The slight breeze caused the
candlelight to flicker, casting moving shadows across Greg's serious
expression.

"Bad news?"  Greg shrugged.  "No, I don't think so."  He rested his
forearms on the edge of the table, leaning closer to Curt, the flickering
candles separating them.  "Curt, my name is Greg."  Curt's eyes widened.
It was almost possible to see his mind go back to when he might have called
Greg by another name.

"I am a different man than Brad," Greg continued.  He silenced Curt with a
slight motion of his hand.  "I can understand, and appreciate, your
feelings for Brad, but I can't be him.  I need to be my own man . . . Greg
. . . and not be compared with someone else.  It . . . hurts . . . when it
happens."  He shrugged slightly.  "Maybe I'm just too sensitive on the
subject.  Who knows?"

He extended a hand, grasping Curt's and squeezing gently.  "Oh, don't look
like that.  You've done nothing wrong . . . really.  It's just that, even
when you're with me . . . you're not.  You're with Brad.  I believe, you
always will be.

"I take it you've heard about Larry and Brad splitting up?"  Curt's eyes
widened slightly at the abrupt change of subject, but he nodded.

"Brad told me this afternoon."

"And, am I correct in thinking he asked you to get back together?"  Curt
nodded once more, this time more slowly, a brief, almost jerky motion,
before bowing his head.  He could see where Greg was heading, and he didn't
want to go there.

"And you said," Greg urged.

"I told him, no.  I . . . couldn't."  The words seemed to be forced from
him.  He felt awful.  Was he *really* thinking about Brad when he was with
Greg?

'Oh shit,' he thought, finally realizing what had caused the abrupt change
in Greg's behavior this evening.  "I called you Brad . . . tonight
. . . didn't I?  When we were in the shower?  I must have!"  Not only had
his body betrayed him by responding so enthusiastically to Greg's advances,
his subconscious mind had betrayed him as well!  Would he never stop
hurting people?  It seemed as if he was determined to cause people pain,
even when he tried his damnedest not to.

Greg continued speaking, not answering Curt's question.  "Why did you tell
him you couldn't get back together?  You love him, don't you?"  Curt bowed
his head but nodded reluctantly.

"So, logically, what does that say the two of us should do?"

"I don't want to think about that, Greg.  I don't want to abandon you.  It
would make me just like I was . . . before."

"You want, you say.  What about what *I* want?  What about doing what's
best for you, or what's best for Brad?  All of those things should be
considered."

"I can't just walk away from our relationship."  He paused a moment, the
candles almost guttered, caught in a stronger breeze.

Greg sighed, shaking his head slowly from side to side.  "You're not just
walking away.  You're moving on to what is best for you guys.  C'mon, Curt.
Brad made that decision the other day when he and Larry split up.  It was
tough on him, but he did it.  Now, its your turn . . . and mine.  None of
this is easy for any of us.  I'm trying to make it easier."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that you and I belong together, as friends.  Good friends.
Very good friends.  The *best* of friends; but, we don't belong together as
lovers, or even in a sexual relationship.  You love him, Curt.  Don't
ignore that.  Don't make Brad, as well as yourself miserable.  Don't be
bull headed.  Moving on today is not the same as jumping from one bed
partner to another.  This is not the same as your old behavior.
Understood?"

"I hate it."

"C'mon, Curt.  No you don't.  You want it more than you've ever wanted
anything.  You hate the thought of hurting my feelings, not the thought of
getting back together with Brad."  Curt shrugged slightly, but didn't
dispute what Greg had said.

"Whatever pain I feel will diminish.  It's not like I'll never see you
again.  I'll be around.  Remember, we're going to be very good friends.  We
just won't be able to have a repeat of the shower scene of earlier this
evening."  Greg sighed and chuckled.  "You certainly are one wonderful
. . . sexy man."

He leaned forward.  "Go to him, Curt.  Be happy.  Make him happy."

He stood and walked around the table to stand behind Curt, wrapping him in
a loose embrace as he leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek.  "If
you're feeling bad, don't.  This is the right thing for both of us.  You're
a wonderful man, Curt, but you have to remember, your past does not make
you personally responsible for everything that happens in life.  You've
done penance, and at the same time taught me what it means to be human.
Now, it's time for both of us to move on."  He kissed Curt on the cheek one
last time and then reluctantly loosened his embrace, giving Curt's shoulder
an affectionate squeeze.

"Now, I think I'll be leaving, so you can wash the dishes."  He made a
comic face in an attempt to lighten the mood.  "I've always have hated
doing dishes."  He winked, turned his back to Curt, and left the
condominium.

After what seemed like ages, the elevator arrived and its doors closed,
leaving him alone and shaking so badly he was afraid his knees might give
way.  He leaned against the back wall of the elevator cab and tilted his
head back, breathing deeply.  "That . . . was the most difficult thing I
have ever done," he said, aloud.

The elevator slowed to a stop.  He stood, pushing away from the elevator
wall, inhaled deeply once more, and then puffed out his cheeks, exhaling
slowly as the elevator doors slid open.

The monorail stop was only a short walk from Curt's condominium.  At one
point, he turned and looked back at the building, fancying he saw Curt
leaning on the railing of his balcony, many stories above.  By the time the
train arrived he had composed himself enough to once again be seen in
public.

The train car was thankfully, nearly empty, allowing him an opportunity to
sort out his feelings without being surrounded by a chattering crowd.  He
knew he had done the correct thing.  Doing the correct thing however, did
not mean he had to feel good about it.  He didn't.  In fact he felt
. . . awful.  Once again he was alone.  He tried to cheer himself up by
trying to find the bright side of his situation.

'I'm in better shape than ever before,' he told himself, as he slowly
walked back to Jeff's house from the train stop.  'I'm not afraid of
relationships.  I'm not afraid of sex.'  He heaved a sigh, and chucked to
himself.  "Well . . . not much.  Even so, I am alone.  I should be happy
Curt and Brad are now free to be back with one another.  I *am* happy for
them.  Still, I feel like hell warmed over.'

He dragged into the courtyard, hoping both Jeff and Phalen would be asleep.
No such luck.  He could see both men sitting on one of the living room
sofas.  He sighed in resignation.  'Such is my luck tonight.'  He took a
deep breath and opened the front door.  Both men looked toward the entry at
the unexpected sound.

He raised his hand in weary acknowledgment of their greetings, kicked off
his sandals, and dragged himself into the living room.  'Might as well get
this over with.'

Jeff had been reading the newspaper, sitting perpendicular to Phalen, his
bare feet and calves resting on Phalen's lap.  Phalen's open book was
balanced on Jeff's legs.

"I didn't expect you home till tomorrow," Phalen smiled.  "Weren't you
headed over to Curt's?"

Greg eased himself into an easy chair, opposite the two men, and nodded.
"That's where I've been.  We had dinner, and I told him he needed to go
back to Brad."  Phalen's eyes widened.  Jeff, on the other hand, seemed
more concerned than surprised.  "He was afraid he'd hurt me if he suggested
it."

Phalen closed his book and set it aside.  "I musta been sleeping, but what
about *Dad* and Brad?  What's going on with them?"

"They split up a couple days ago."  Phalen turned to Jeff, as if seeking
confirmation.  "They decided they were not in love with one another, and
decided to go their separate ways."  Greg sighed, leaned back amid the
cushions of the chair, and stretched out his legs so he could put his bare
feet on the table.

"You guys didn't know?"  He need not have asked.  It was obvious neither
had heard the news.

"Geez."  Phalen's fingers absently toyed with the hair on Jeff's calf.
"Poor Dad."  He looked up.  "I'm sorry, Greg."  He seemed to stare into the
distance.  "This is rotten.  Everyone ends up upset."

Greg softly snorted. "Except Brad and Curt."

Phalen shrugged.  "Yeah, well.  The people *I'm* closest to aren't faring
too well."

"Are you okay?"  Jeff's soft voice was filled with concern.  He had been
silently studying his brother while Phalen had been talking.  There was
more bothering Greg than no longer seeing Curt.

"What do you think?"  Greg instantly regretted the terse response.  "Sorry,
Jeff."  He heaved a sigh.  "Actually, I'm not upset; I just feel as if I've
hardly made any progress since coming to the States." He held up his hand
when he saw Jeff about to say something.  "Oh, I know I've made a lot of
progress."  He shrugged.  "I'm just feeling a little depressed about the
whole thing right now.  No, that's not correct.  I feel like shit."  He
abruptly stopped speaking, stood, and walked across the room.

"I don't love Curt.  I *like* him.  He doesn't love me.  We have a good
friendship with lots of sex."  A brief smile played with the corners of his
lips.  "We don't love one another.  He and *Brad* are in love."  Greg
leaned against the kitchen counter, bowed his head, and lowered his voice.
"He called me Brad tonight, guys.  He didn't realize it, but he did."

Greg moved away from the kitchen counter and walked to the row of French
doors opening onto the backyard.  "It seems as if I'm always being compared
with someone else.  You, Jeff . . . now Brad."  He turned around.  "I'm
*Greg*!  I want to be loved because I am *me*, not because of . . ."  He
hesitated at the look on Jeff's face.  "I want to be loved because someone
loves Greg, not as a substitute for someone else."

"Someone has compared the two of us?"  Phalen glanced from Jeff to Greg.
He could guess who might have made such a comparison.  If Jeff thought
about it, he wouldn't have had to ask the question.

Greg sighed, once again flopping into the easy chair.  "Everyone does, Jeff
. . . everyone."

He rubbed a weary hand over his face.  "And now, I'm going to be an
emotional wreck when Mother and Dad arrive tomorrow."  He stood and headed
toward his bedroom.

"I think I'll go to my room and not come out for a couple weeks.  You can
leave my meals outside the door."  He paused and turned back, managing to
smile.  "Unless *you* cook, Phalen.  Then, I think I'll pass on the meal."

"Yeah, yeah," Phalen called to the retreating figure, pleased Greg was at
least, smiling.  "There's no need to be nasty, just 'cause you're feeling
shitty.  I'll just *deliver* the meals.  I won't make them.  Deal?"

Greg chuckled.  "Deal."  He silently closed the door and fell onto his bed,
staring at the ceiling of the room, eventually falling into an uneasy
doze..

He blinked awake at the sound of a knock on his door.  "Sisaan."  He
struggled into a sitting position as Jeff opened the door, balancing a tray
and a steaming bowl.

"Finnish," he asked, wondering why Greg had used another language to ask
him to come in.  Greg shrugged and rubbed his eyes, trying to stifle a
yawn.

"I wasn't quite awake yet.  Besides, I'm finding it more difficult than I
imagined, to *think* in English all the time.  You know, I've finally
realized that I *think* in Finnish and then have to do a quick translation
before I say anything.  When I'm not watching what I say, everything comes
out in Finnish."  He grinned.  "Very distressing for the patients or staff
at work.  I realize I've done it whenever the room gets quiet and
everyone's looking at me as if I've suddenly begun babbling."  He smiled
wearily, and nodded to the tray Jeff was carrying.

Jeff grinned and handed the tray to his brother, who smiled appreciatively
at the aroma rising from the bowl.  "This is exactly what Mother always did
to help us feel better, isn't it?"  Jeff grinned and nodded, slowly walking
across the room, first staring out of the doors onto the bedroom's patio,
looking over his shoulder as his brother spoke.

"I was just kidding about bringing meals to me," Greg said, around a
spoonful of stew.  He stopped to savor the flavor and smiled
appreciatively.

"You knew about Larry and Brad before going over to Curt's," Jeff asked
straddling the desk chair, resting his arms across the chair's back.

"Yeah, Larry told me.  He was over here the other day . . . when you and
Phalen were gone.  He was upset, saying he was alone again."  Greg sighed.

"It's like some highly infectious . . . malady.  Larry got it first, now
me."  He gave his brother a lopsided smile before once again returning to
the stew.  "Don't stand too close."

Jeff slightly raised a hand, making an unhurried throw away motion.
"Before learning about Brad and Larry, were you serious about Curt?  Did
you go over to his place with the intention of splitting up?"

"No, I wasn't serious, if having a life-long loving relationship is what
you mean.  I went over for dinner, hoping to have sex."  Greg lowered his
voice and confided.  "He's very good, you know."

Jeff smiled.  "I imagine."

"Not that I have anything to compare with," Greg concluded.  "But, I don't
see how things can get much better."  He shook his head in wonder.

"You decided you guys should go your own way when he called you Brad?"
Greg nodded.

"He called me Brad . . . during his orgasm."

"Ohhh.  You don't look like Brad."

"His eyes were closed."

"Hmm.  Did he realize?"  Greg shook his head.

"No, there was no reason to tell him.  But it did tell me what I should do,
and eventually, he figured it out.  It was rough . . . for both of us, but
more for me, I fancy.  I wanted to say or do more.  He's responsible for
getting me to come of my shell and admit to myself that I'm gay.  He made
me not afraid of intimacy.  At least he helped.  You and Phalen have done a
lot too . . . just by example.  Still, I wanted to tell him how important
he has become to me."

"There's nothing preventing you from telling him still, is there?"

Greg shrugged.  "No, but doing it then seemed appropriate, and I let the
moment pass.  Now, if I say anything, it'll be as some sort of postscript.
I don't know."  He inhaled deeply, staring into the empty soup bowl.

"What time do Mother and Dad arrive?"


----------


"Braaad," Marty's voice penetrated into the dining room.  "Curt's on your
cell phone.  He wants to talk to you!"

Brad looked up, caught his mother's tentative expression, and set the
dishes he was carrying into the room on the dining table.  He rubbed the
palms of his suddenly-sweaty hands on the front of his shorts and tried to
return his father's encouraging smile.  He was intensely aware of the gaze
of both of his parents as he left the room, but didn't see the worried look
they exchanged as he disappeared down the hallway.

He encountered his brother leaving his room.

"Sorry to be in your room, Brad.  I heard your phone ringing, and when I
saw it was Curt, I answered it.  I thought you'd probably want to speak to
him right away, rather than have him leave a message."  He made a comic
face.  "Personally, I can't see why.  He may be cute, but he doesn't like
baseball."  Marty smiled.  "Probably has a big wanger though."

Brad gave his brother a preoccupied smile but stopped at the touch of
Marty's hand on his upper arm.  For once, all trace of humor was missing
from his brother's face.  "Good luck."  Brad swallowed and nodded,
unwilling to trust his voice.

Brad entered his bedroom and eyed the glowing face of the open cell phone,
a pool of dim light in the darkened room.  'What can he possibly want,' he
asked himself as he took a deep breath and picked up the phone.

"Curt?"  He was proud his voice didn't quaver.

"I'm sorry you had to wait so long, Mr. Kelly, but you asked me to call you
immediately if I should ever find myself free to pursue a relationship.
I'm hoping the offer is still open, because, I'm free."  The last few words
were delivered in a quavering voice, accompanied by a distinct sniff.

"What?"  Brad was certain his parents and younger brother would have heard
his shriek.  It would be like Marty to be hanging around outside the door,
relaying everything to his parents.  He couldn't blame Marty though.  He
had done similar things to his two older brothers.  "But, I thought . . ."

"Me too."  Curt's voice still didn't seem very steady.  "He was over for
dinner tonight and told me to go to the man I love.  He knew it was you.
He was wonderful, Brad.  He tried to be all brave and stern and stuff, but
I could tell it hurt him to say what he did.  I didn't know what to say so
I sat there, dumb as a stump.  Oh Brad, I love you so much.  Please, can we
be together again?"  His voice cracked.  "Please."  There was a shuddering
breath.  "I . . . I've missed you, so much."

"Yes," Brad shouted.  "Of course!  Yes, yes . . . *yes*!"  His excitement
diminished when he thought of Greg.  "Are you sure he'll be okay?  You two
aren't gonna be enemies or anything, are you . . . because of me?  Greg
tries to come across as the tough man, but underneath I bet he's pretty
sensitive."

"You're right.  He is.  But no, we're not enemies or anything.  We're
friends.  He made a point of telling me he expected that to continue.  We
just can't, be lovers.  There's only one man who fits that role and I'm
speaking to him.  Can I come over and pick you up?"  He hesitated.  "Oh
damn; I've gotta do the dishes first.  We had dinner and he just left.  It
won't take long.  I'll be over there in a bit."

The phone went dead leaving Brad in the darkened room, trying not to shake
with anticipation.  He could almost feel the strength of Curt's embrace,
the taste of his tongue, his shuddering sigh as Curt slid into him.  But,
none of that was important.

'Curt loves me!  He wants to be together again!  He loves me!'  He ran his
shaking fingers through his hair and then rubbed his face as he tried to
compose himself to go out to speak with his folks.  No matter how he tried,
he couldn't erase the smile, or ban the extra bounce in his step.

Everyone looked up as he entered the silent dining room.  His mother's
tentative expression blossomed into a radiant smile as she saw his face.
She immediately pushed back her chair, dropping her napkin on the floor in
her haste, and rushed around the table to meet him with open arms.

"Congratulations, sweetheart.  There's no need to say anything.  It's
written all over your face."  She kissed him on the cheek and brushed away
the stray tear as it escaped his suddenly watery eyes.  He didn't know why
he should feel like crying.  Perhaps, it was because he was so happy his
parents seemed to be sharing his joy.

"Thanks, Mom," he sniffed, hugging her tightly.  'Thanks for sticking with
me through all this.'

"That's what mothers are for, sweetheart.  It's for moments such as this
that we endure the difficult times."  She held him at arm's length and
studied him.  "You're sure of this?"  Brad nodded.

"I'm sure of it, Mom."

"Don't I get to give him a hug too," his father complained from nearby.
Liz relinquished her son and stood aside.

"Congratulations, son," Frank said, holding Brad in a brief but firm
embrace.  "I'm happy for you."

"He doesn't like baseball," Marty groused in the background.  "I like Larry
better."

"Larry's too old for you dear." Liz grinned as she patted him on the
shoulder as she returned to her seat, stooping to pick up her napkin.
"Maybe you can go see his son play."

"And," Brad added.  "He and Jeff are partners, so no ideas, okay?"  Marty
sank back in his seat.

"No one's heterosexual in Phoenix, it seems," Frank joked as he took his
seat.  "Except me," he added as an afterthought.  He looked up into the
sudden silence.  "Oh, and your mother."  Liz smiled and reached out to
affectionately pat his hand.

"So nice of you to notice."

The ever irreverent Marty, snickered.  "There must be a couple more," he
added, attacking his meal.  "I just don't know 'em."  He thought a moment
as he chewed.  "Don't want to, either.  Unless they have a son, of course."

~ to be continued ~


Thank you for taking the time to read my work.  I *always* welcome your
email and enjoy hearing your thoughts.  If you would like me to send a pic
of the character(s), please ask.

In addition to the first 'Phalen' story, I have three other stories you may
want to read.  'Leith,' and 'Chris' are located in the Nifty College
Section.  The third story is called 'Wesley', and is located in the Adult
Relationships section.  I hope you enjoy them all.

Best wishes,

Roy Reinikainen
roynm@mac.com
suomalainen_abq@mac.com