Date: Wed, 30 Nov 2005 19:49:37 -0700
From: Roy <roynm@mac.com>
Subject: Phalen, chapter 12 - College section

This story contains portrayals of homosexual actions and lifestyles.  There
may be references to, or explicit descriptions of, sex between consenting
adults.

If homosexuality, sexually explicit language, or swearing offends you, or
if reading material that contains these topics violates any law or personal
or religious beliefs, or if you under 18 years of age, please leave now,
without proceeding further.

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


Roy
roynm@mac.com

Phalen, chapter 12


Dinner was going badly. Larry had been subdued since he picked Andrew up at
work, and his mood hadn't improved. He would participate in a conversation,
but seemed preoccupied, almost totally ignoring his meal. The dimly lit
restaurant hid the shadowed eyes, but not the general feeling of
despondency Larry seemed to be experiencing. Throughout dinner, Andrew
tried to draw him out, with little luck, finally finishing his own meal in
silence, glancing at Larry from time to time.

The waiter gave Andrew a puzzled look when he removed Larry's untouched
dinner plate. Andrew briefly shook his head, silently asking the waiter not
to inquire if there was a problem. The waiter took the hint, clearing the
table in silence.

Finally, the waiter brought the check. Andrew smiled his thanks, signing
the bill, then turned back to Larry, who had been oblivious to what was
going on around him.

"Larry," Andrew said, reaching across the table to touch one of Larry's
hands, resting on the white tablecloth. Larry looked first at Andrew's
hand, then up to his face, but made no response. "Something's
happening. What's going on? You're not yourself tonight."

"Lots of stuff is happening. --- Too much for me to get a grip on." Larry
took a ragged breath, leaning back in his chair and slightly shaking his
head. "I feel as if I'm being swept down a river with no control of what's
happening to me. I'm just bouncing from one rock to the next. My son would
say that I'm so out of it that I don't even know what game I'm playing."

"Since we can't talk about everything at once, pick the first problem that
comes into your mind and let's talk."

Larry looked skeptical, but nodded, taking a deep breath before plunging
on. "I told my son's partner I'm in love with him." Andrew raised his
eyebrows, but quickly schooled his expression, hoping Larry hadn't seen his
surprise. Larry leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "I have
been for months, actually since the day I met him." He began absently
running a finger from side to side across the table cloth. "I guess I
thought if I told him how I felt, it would make me feel better." Larry
began toying with a saltshaker, contemplating what to say next. "It
hasn't." He sighed once again. "I don't know what I expected to
happen. He's committed to my son, and that's the way I *want* it. They're
perfect together, but now I feel as if I made a fool of myself, and he
probably thinks I'm crazy."

"Did he do something to make you believe that's what he thinks?"

Larry shook his bowed head. "No, nothing. He was wonderful about it.  It's
not as if he . . ."

Andrew interrupted. "It sounds as if you think you *deserve* to feel bad?"

Larry shrugged. "I don't know." He suddenly looked up with an intensity
Andrew hadn't seen all night. "Andrew, tell me the truth. Is something
wrong with me?"

"What?" Andrew moderated his voice after a few other diners looked up,
wondering what was happening. "Of course not!"

"I don't know how things are supposed to work if one's gay, and I'm
probably going to feel a fool again, but the other day you told me how
great I am. In fact, you're always calling me handsome. Well, I sort of
expected --- hoped actually, that you would at least touch me --- once." He
trailed off, continuing to watch Andrew, waiting for a response. "Isn't
that the way it works? --- Am I being stupid? *Is* something wrong with
me?"

Andrew held up a hand to prevent Larry from continuing to berate
himself. "Wait a moment. Has this been what's really bothering you?"

Larry nodded. "This and the other thing --- with my son's partner." He
bowed his head, but continued talking, unwilling to meet Andrew's eyes. "I
guess --- I guess I don't have a very high opinion of myself. . . "

Andrew leaned forward, trying to keep Larry's attention. "Let's discuss you
and me for a moment, okay?"

Larry nodded but continued to watch his fingers draw patterns on the
tablecloth.

Andrew spoke deliberately, anxious that Larry not miss a single
word. "There is absolutely *nothing* wrong with you. Believe me, Larry,
it's true. --- You *wanted* me to touch you?" Larry nodded, his head still
bowed.

"Look at me, Larry."

Reluctantly, Larry looked up to meet Andrew's eyes. "I've wanted to touch
you," Andrew spoke for Larry's ears alone. "Every time I see your dimples
when you grin, or smell you, or see you walking . . . " He paused a
moment. Larry had not reacted. Andrew was convinced Larry wasn't going to
believe him. He rested his forearms on the table, leaning forward, trying
to convey sincerity with proximity. "Hell handsome, I get excited being in
the same *room* with you.

"Remember the day you called and asked me to go to dinner to celebrate your
divorce?"  Larry nodded, maintaining eye contact. Andrew took that as a
sign he might be getting through. "My sons told me not to take advantage of
you. They said they thought you were too vulnerable because of your
divorce. They told me this because I have been known to move pretty fast at
times." Andrew gave a rueful grin. "It's not like me to follow their
advice, but I did, and it appears I hurt you. If that's the case, I'm truly
sorry."

"I guess I am vulnerable," Larry said, slowly, returning his attention to
the saltshaker. "Your sons were right." He thought a moment more,
continuing to turn the saltshaker. "But I'm also --- lonely. I want to be
touched." He thought a moment, no longer moving the saltshaker. "I *need*
be touched --- and held." Andrew watched in silence as Larry struggled to
put his feelings into words. "It's like I'm a child who needs to be held
and told everything will be all right." --- He looked up suddenly, his eyes
wide. "My smell! Do I smell?"--- Larry noticed Andrew's grin. "Is that a
good thing --- to smell?" Andrew's grin grew into a smile. He motioned for
Larry to continue, pleased with Larry's reaction to his comment. Larry
continued, still unsure what Andrew's smile meant. "The other day - when -
we were jogging, I thought maybe the only way I could get you to pay
attention to me would be for me to drop my shorts and wag my dick at you."

"That would have worked, I assure you." Andrew laughed. --- "Is that why
you were so insistent you had not fallen on purpose, just to get me to
touch you?"

Larry nodded, once again concentrating on the saltshaker. "Why go slowly
with me?" he asked. "Is it just because you think I'm vulnerable?"

"That's some of it, but also because I like you and want you as a friend
before a sex partner. --- Larry, I've told you before, I tend to use guys
then, lose them. You're too good for that. I *really* want to have sex with
you, but if doing so means I'll eventually lose you as a friend, then I'll
masturbate instead. Believe me, handsome, there's nothing wrong with you."
Andrew looked around at the dwindling number of diners. "Let's go. I've got
something else to say."

----------

Jeff grinned, listening to Brad and Phalen laughing outside. Brad was much
like Kerin, a person who liked to laugh and make others laugh with him. 'He
seems so carefree,' Jeff thought, grabbing a beer from the refrigerator for
Brad and a soft drink for him and Phalen. 'Carefree that is, until his
partner Curt is mentioned.' Until recently every time Brad spoke of Curt,
his eyes would shine and he would display one of his impish smiles,
slightly tilting his head slightly to the side. 'Brad's a nice looking
guy,' Jeff thought, passing him his drink, 'but when he smiles, his face is
transformed into something wonderful.' Phalen took Jeff's hand when he was
handed his drink, pulling him down so they could sit together on the
chaise. Phalen smiled as Jeff put an arm around his shoulders, snuggling
closer.

'Yep, I am definitely a sucker for a great smile,' Jeff mused as Brad
continued telling a story about his Spring Break trip to Mexico. Jeff
enjoyed watching the expressive face and expansive gestures that
accompanied the story. Brad loved an audience. Phalen was entranced. Until
today, Jeff had only witnessed Brad's skill during presentations when he
had the jury in the palm of his hand, making them laugh as easily as he was
Phalen.

Jeff was amazed at how easily Brad accepted being nude. Even Kerin and
Thian had been more reticent. Without a thought, Brad stripped out of his
clothes, neatly placing them over the back of a dining chair, much to
Phalen's vocal approval and encouragement that Jeff should take some
lessons.

Brad wasn't much of a swimmer though, preferring to sit and enjoy watching
others splash while he sat in the sun, "trying to eliminate his tan line,"
he explained. "The bath tub is as large a body of water as I'm comfortable
with.  I did some track in high school and some baseball but never really
got into swimming." At the mention of baseball, Phalen's eyes lit up, and
the two began telling baseball stories.

Jeff watched Brad become even more animated as he described one of his all
star baseball plays. Phalen's eyes were shining with enjoyment. Brad was a
lean man; each muscle was defined without being overly developed. Like
Phalen, he had a smooth chest, small nipples, and a lightly defined
washboard stomach that ended in a trimmed black pubic bush. He had sat his
beer on a table and was now standing, no longer able to tell his story
while sitting down. With each movement his cock would swing above his tight
balls, and the muscles of his lightly haired legs would ripple.

The story had come to its conclusion. Brad was laughing, abandoning himself
to Phalen's applause. "Of course, the pitch becomes more difficult to hit
each time I tell that story," he continued laughing, before taking a long
drink of his beer. Brad seemed to bask in Phalen's laughter.

"You mean you didn't hit a bases-loaded home run?" Phalen asked, leaning
back against Jeff and rubbing a hand absently up and down his leg.

"That's an idea!" Brad sat down and leaned back, his feet resting on either
side of his chaise. "I'll include a homerun the next time I tell the
story."

"You mean your story wasn't true?" Jeff asked, looking first at one man,
then the other. They both turned to him, surprised he had asked, then both
men burst out laughing.

"It's like the fish tale, Jeff," Brad explained, still chuckling. "It gets
bigger with each telling."

"Why would someone tell a story about a fish tail?" Brad lay back on the
chaise, throwing up his arms and howled with laughter. Phalen grinned,
turning to Jeff and spelled the type of tale Brad had been talking
about. Jeff responded with a silent "Oh."

"You have to forgive him, Brad," Phalen said, turning to Brad. "Jeff never
heard a joke until he met me. They don't tell 'em where he comes from."

"I'm sure they do," Jeff quickly responded.  "I just don't recognize one
when I hear it. I take everything at face value. --- Remember, you guys
grew up in an entirely different culture than I did."

"I know. And I apologize," Brad said, wiping his eyes. "We're not laughing
at you. Once I start laughing, I sometimes can't seem to stop. --- I told
you I grew up in bedlam."

"Bedlam?" Jeff mouthed the word to Phalen, not understanding the
allusion. Brad tried not to laugh as Phalen smiled and patted Jeff's knee,
promising an explanation later.

"I'm hungry," Phalen said suddenly. "It's getting dark and we haven't
eaten. You're staying, aren't you, Brad? You're invited. Besides, Jeff and
I enjoy seeing you naked, huh Jeff?" When Jeff didn't say anything, Phalen
stage whispered," He thinks you're sexy, too, only he's too shy to say so."

"Thanks, Phalen. I'm thinking the same about you both.  Now, let's see if
we can help Jeff. It looks as if he's the cook in the family."

Brad wrapped an arm around Phalen's shoulder, and together they walked
inside.

----------

Larry and Andrew left the restaurant, Andrew holding the door for Larry,
who smiled his thanks as he passed. The two men walked silently,
side-by-side through rows of cars, dimly lit by a nearby streetlight and
the occasional passing car. Andrew noticed the gentle breeze ruffle Larry's
hair, carrying with it the heady scent of a night-blossoming plant and the
promise of a spring thunderstorm.

Andrew reached out and rubbed Larry's shoulders, lingering a moment to run
his fingers through the hair at the nape of Larry's neck before pulling him
close, keeping an arm around his shoulders.

Larry's limp had noticeably improved, but he still favored his injured
ankle. He remained silent, walking close to Andrew, enjoying being held in
a firm grip.

"Does my holding you outside like this bother you?" Andrew asked, turning
to Larry, who shook his head.

"No, I like it." He paused a moment. "A lot. --- It's nice." Larry snuggled
closer, reaching up and placing his hand over the one Andrew rested on his
shoulder, causing Andrew to smile.

As they approached the car, Andrew walked with Larry to the driver's side
of the car, deep in a street-light shadow cast by a nearby tree. Larry
turned to look at Andrew, raising his eyebrows in silent inquiry. Andrew
gently backed Larry against the side of the car, standing close, watching
Larry's expression, wary at first, become questioning. He placed a hand
against Larry's chest, pressing his palm against the tight shirt. He could
feel Larry's body heat and rapid heart beat beneath the fabric. Larry
remained silent, briefly glancing down at the hand touching his chest,
before he once again watched Andrew with sad eyes, his lips slightly
parted.

"Larry, I told you that you were vulnerable because you had just come out
of a marriage. When you asked me a few minutes ago if there was something
wrong with you, and if that's why I haven't touched you, I realized I
should have done things differently." Larry's eyes glistened in what little
light there was. He nervously licked his lips once but remained silent.

"There is absolutely nothing wrong with you, handsome," Andrew continued,
moving his open palm across Larry's chest, to rest over a firm
nipple. "Believe me, Larry, nothing at all is wrong." Andrew moved closer,
then reached up to gently touch Larry's cheek with one finger. Larry choked
back a sob but remained silent as Andrew began to slowly run his fingers
through his hair.

Larry closed his eyes and whimpered at the touch, taking ragged breaths.

"Do you think you're too vulnerable to be touched, Larry?" Andrew asked for
Larry's ears alone. Larry barely shook his head. He had regained control of
his breathing but was unwilling to trust his voice. "I've wanted to touch
you, you know. It's about killed me that I haven't." Andrew's hand slowly
caressed Larry's cheek, then tilted his chin up. Larry watched Andrew, no
longer wary.

"Would you like me to touch you?" Larry barely nodded.

Andrew slowly leaned forward and gently touched his lips to Larry's, then
moved closer still, their chests touching. His arms circled Larry's waist,
holding him tightly. Already stiff himself, Andrew could feel Larry's penis
begin to stir beneath his slacks. Andrew's mouth parted, his tongue seeking
entrance to Larry's.

Larry groaned, putting his arms around Andrew's shoulders. He opened his
mouth and welcomed Andrew's tongue in a gentle, lingering kiss, leaning
into Andrew, welcoming his warmth and his strength. Andrew finally broke
the kiss, surprised at the passion Larry had demonstrated.  Larry opened
his eyes and whispered, "Wow!" Andrew grinned, and winked when Larry shyly
looked at him, his eyes no longer shadowed and sad.

"The other night, when I fell jogging," Larry spoke, just above a
whisper. "I asked you to kiss it to make it better. I truly had no idea of
how much better one kiss would make me feel." He paused a moment, not
removing his arms from around Andrew's shoulders.

When he spoke again, it was if he had had a revelation. --- "There really
*isn't* anything wrong with me --- is there?" Andrew shook his head. "I'm
good enough that --- someday --- someone will love me." Larry's eyes were
beginning to glisten.

"Of course you're good enough, handsome. You always have been."

"Oh, I --- I didn't know --- I thought . . . "

"Shh, Larry. You think too much, you know that?"

Larry grinned. "I'm thinking right now that I'd like to kiss you again." He
smiled, drawing Andrew to him, their tongues touching before their
lips. Like the earlier kiss, this one was slow and gentle, and neither
wanted it to end. Andrew ran the palms of his hands over Larry's back,
feeling the muscles shifting, tensing and relaxing. Eventually Larry backed
up, his breathing rapid, his mouth still slightly open.

"I could easily learn to love kissing," Larry admitted shyly, running his
fingers through Andrew's hair, touching it almost reverently.

"You mean, you never. . . "

"Oh yes, a few times, but I would bet no more than a dozen --- in all those
years of marriage. --- They were nothing like what we just did. This is so
different." Larry paused a moment, still running fingers of one hand
through Andrew's hair. "You're so --- thorough and gentle.

"I can be rough --- or tender." Andrew continued to hold Larry close. "I
thought you would prefer tender." Larry nodded.

"Tonight, I do." Larry rested his head on Andrew's shoulder. "Tonight, I
*need* tender."

"I still want to move forward slowly," Andrew continued, rubbing Larry's
back. "But I don't want you imagining there's something wrong with
you. There's not." Larry looked at Andrew and grinned while he continued
speaking. "You're handsome, kind, intelligent, and loving. You'll make
someone a wonderful lover." Andrew watched Larry as he spoke, ignoring the
single tear that created a glistening trail over Larry's cheek. "Believe me
Larry, you've endured a lot over the years. Now you deserve only the best."

----------

Brad stepped out of the car and closed the door, waving to Jeff and Phalen
as they drove off.

'Home sweet home,' he thought, looking at the large apartment complex. 'I
wish.' Brad had lived in the complex with his partner Curt since starting
school four years ago. The two men met in high school and had fallen
instantly in love, to Brad's parents' chagrin. They weren't disturbed
because Brad was gay; all four of his brothers were too. They were
displeased because he had chosen to have a relationship with Curt.

After introducing Curt to his parents, Brad had driven him home. Later that
evening, Brad had been in his room studying, thinking Curt's introduction
had gone well. He remembered the light knock on the door. He was surprised
because he thought everyone else was asleep. Brad opened the door to see
his mother, her hand poised, ready to knock again.

As he approached his apartment, he thought back to that conversation, how
the woman who should have been a stand up comedian, perched uneasily on the
edge of his bed and told him how much she loved him, saying that's why she
*had* to tell him something he probably wasn't going to want to hear. She
waited to see if he would respond.

Brad slowly climbed the steps to his and Curt's second floor apartment,
then paused to lean on the railing and watch the city lights.

Brad told his mother to go ahead and say whatever it was that was so
important.  She sighed, eventually saying, "Brad, honey, I don't know what
it is, but your father, and your older brother and I all felt it." She
paused. "Your friend Curt is trouble." She had held up a hand to prevent
any comment. "I know, I've got nothing to base that belief upon. If it had
been just me feeling that way, I wouldn't be in here right now, but it
isn't. While you were driving him home, your brother told me he hoped you
weren't serious about Curt. He said he just didn't feel good about
him. Your father said the same thing when we were getting ready for bed."

He had interrupted. "Mom . . . ," he'd said, dragging out the word.

"I know, Brad. I would have thought the same thing you're thinking right
now if my mother had said something like this to me after I introduced her
to your father. --- She didn't, thankfully.  I'm not advising you to do
anything other than to be careful and keep your eyes and ears open." She
smiled, reaching out to take his hand. "I've got five wonderful sons who
have grown into fine young men. I'd hate to see one of them hurt. Their
happiness is pretty important to me." She cleared her throat, stood up and
held out her arms for a hug, telling him once again how much he meant to
her and his father.

She had never mentioned the conversation again and had welcomed Curt to the
family, treating him no differently than his brothers' partners or
boyfriends.

Brad continued to lean on the railing. 'Why did that memory surface
tonight?' he wondered, noticing Curt pull into the parking lot below.

Brad grinned, watching Curt haul his stuff out of the car's trunk, then
turn toward the stairway. For as long as he could remember Curt had excited
him. Lately though, something was different. It seemed as if Curt was
becoming more distant. Where he was once affectionate and gentle, he could
now be cold and rough. Their sex was still exciting, but during the past
few months the gulf between them seemed to be widening. It was strange how
his mother's words had come back to him tonight. He could still hear how
difficult they had been for her to say. He remembered her taking a deep
breath, then telling him, "Curt is trouble."


~To be continued~


Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to read and comment on this
story. I've been overwhelmed at the response to 'Phalen,' and love to hear
from each of you.

If you would like me to send you a pic of the guys that inspired the main
characters in this story, email me.

Mina rakastan sinua (I love you)
Mita (what)
Anteeksi (I'm sorry)

A special thanks to Larry S. for his assistance with the Finnish language,
and for being a good friend.  Thanks also to Evan Bradley for his
continuing encouragement, and for helping me make 'Phalen' a better story,
and lastly to Gwynne Yee, for her daily doses of humor, and insight into
the behavior of the characters.

A number of readers have written asking for the correct pronunciation of
the character's names.  They are:

Phalen (FAY-lin)
Kerin (KEAR-in)
Thian (THE as in Theater  (THE-in)


Thanks for reading.

Roy
roynm@mac.com