Date: Mon, 04 Sep 2006 14:57:26 +0200
From: A.K. <andrej@andrejkoymasky.com>
Subject: "The Choice" 12/15 (Adult Youth)

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THE CHOICE
by Andrej Koymasky (C) 2006
written on November 12th 1996
translated by the author
English text kindly revised
by Khasidi

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USUAL DISCLAIMER

"THE CHOICE" is a gay story, with some parts containing graphic
scenes of sex between males. So, if in your land, religion, family,
opinion and so on this is not good for you, it will be better not to
read this story. But if you really want, or because YOU don't care, or
because you think you really want to read it, please be my welcomed
guest.

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CHAPTER 12 - THE TEMPEST

Ubaldo Crespi gave the priest a withering glance. The confusion that
appeared on the young man's face, confirmed him in his suspicions.
Brusquely pushing the young man aside, Ubaldo headed with determination
towards the bedroom. He opened the door before Gustavo could stop him.

"Adriano! What... What are you doing here!" barked the astounded man.

The boy hadn't yet managed to get his clothes back on. He was dressed
only in his boxers and was trying to extract his other clothes from the
tangled heap he had gathered from the floor as he had thrown himself
into the bedroom.

"And what are you doing naked!" the man roared, shaking his head
violently as though trying to wake from a nightmare.

As the man's rage grew, he half closed his eyes and the hard breath blew
from his nostrils like that of a bull ready to charge. With a violent
slap knocked all the clothes out of his son's hands. Now he had no more
doubts about what it was his son had been doing. Half naked and in the
bedroom of a priest, and the priest half naked, too! After a few seconds
the fierce man, in spite of the formal elegance of his dress, seemed to
shrink. He groaned like one who has received a blow to the gut. He
stepped back and leaned against the door frame for support, then he
released a long, trembling sigh as he surrendered to the evidence of his
own eyes.

But he quickly regained mastery of the situation. His body recovered its
erect posture and  seemed almost to swell, "Adriano, dress,
immediately!" he commanded in an cold voice, "You are coming with me
away from the domocile of this... of this man

Ubaldo gave his orders to his son in a cold, quiet, flat tone, but still
his voice carried in itself the menacing, hard, inflexible quality of a
bear's angry snarl. But the man saw his son's eyes suddenly fill with a
cold distant look of repulsion and sharp contempt. Angry and astounded,
he closed his fists, asking himself what was the meaning of this
unexpected glance. He had expected shame, confusion, regret, but
instead...

Even though he had been stricken with panic the instant Gustavo had
whispered to him that his father was at the door, Adriano was already
aware that it would be useless and naive, but above all dishonest, to
deny the evidence. So, in spite of his initial confusion and fear, he
decided not to lie, to be a man, to be strong. He thought to himself
that if there were any moment when he ought to try and ask to be
understood, accepted, it was this one. This was the moment he had longed
for and feared at the same time, the moment of truth. So, he tried.

"Dad, let me explain..." he whispered, his voice hoarse but determined.

Though he knew it was useless, Adriano prepared himself to try to find a
possible way to conciliate what he was feeling with his father's cold,
merciless logic, exactly as he had had to do as a child when he'd had to
face his father's disapproval. He thought that he should to try to
explain what he and Gustavo felt for each other. But, the result turned
out just the same as it had when he had been a kid trying to explain his
own point of view to his father while, at the same time, trying to
protect his body from the blows of his father's belt. His efforts to
make his father understand had been useless as child and he realized
that nothing had really changed. Any such attempt was doomed to failure.

"Listen, Dad!" Adriano urged again seeing the wall in his father's eyes.
"Would you please listen to me? I..."

"I told you to dress, Adriano." Ubaldo hissed his words out with deep
disgust, stopping his son before he could add any more. His attitude
hadn't changed a jot, nor the tone of his voice. In the menacing color
of his face Adriano could forcast a terrible storm theatening... if not
something worse.

Realizing that it would have been useless to insist, Adriano bent to
pick up his clothes from the tangle on the floor.

The man dragged his son out of the room, slamming the door behind him.
He stood in the center of the studio and turned to face Gustavo. With a
voice sizzling with venom and contempt from between his teeth, he said,
"And about you! You don't have the right to say a thing! You understand
me? You have absolutely no say in this. So you better not let me hear
your voice, you got that?"

Crespi's mind, overcoming the first shock, was now running at full
speed. He was starting to plan what steps to take. He would have liked
to take legal action, but the consequences of a scandal and media
coverage that would surely ensue prevented him. He slowly raised his
eyes to look upon Gustavo. "Why not just punch him out?" he asked
himself. "Why not just smash that hypocrite face?" But the moment had
passed. Even if he couldn't beat the shit out of this asshole, though,
he wanted to destroy him with all the violence possible, and he knew
that there are things that hurt more than getting punched out.

This man, who had never forgotten the even the smallest debt owed him,
reached a quick decision. He would annihilate the strong man who faced
him. "Allow me to say," he began, full of scorn, "That, though I can't
understand how you could come to this, I intend to find out how you did
it." Ubaldo said in a menacing tone.  In spite of the anger that was
devouring him and making his hands tremble, he still maintained the
appearance of calm. "And, even though I can't expose this skeleton in
your closet, as far as my son is concerned, it's over. Do you
understand?"

Mister Crespi took a step backwards and glanced over the priest from
head to toe as if he were measuring his athletic body. The man was
covered only by a short bathrobe which was half open on his chest.
Almost unbelieving, Crespi became aware that the priest was really well
shaped. He told himself this man was too virile, too manly to be a
priest! He should have been more...asexual! "Good Christ! I would have
never thought that a priest... a man who was consecrated... that you
could..."

The play of the afternoon light through the study's window in back of
Gustavo exalted the gold of his hair and of the golden down on the
contours of his forearms and legs. Perhaps it was just the sun that
disturbed the boy's father, but his eyes closed in two menacing slits.
The priest didn't try to defend or justify himself. He simply stood in
the center of the room, still and silent. But in spite of his initial
confusion and worry, in spite of the fear for the consequences that
might befall the boy he loved, the young priest stood straight, nor did
he lower his eyes before the boy's father, but kept his dignity and
pride intact.

In love for the first time in his life, the young priest wanted to be,
now, at the side of the boy he loved, in the bedroom, to comfort him
within his arms with a kiss. Each smallest part of his body was urging
him to do so. And it was only for Adriano, and not for himself, that
Gustavo, with incredible self-control, remained where he stood, still
and silent. He knew that if he spoke, he would risk making the anger of
the man facing him explode.

The bedroom door opened and Adriano, cleaned up and dressed, appeared
hesitantly in the doorway. He took two slow steps into the study towards
his father and the man he loved, the men stood like statues facing one
another, frozen by the icy power of their glances.

"Let's go!" Ubaldo Crespi ordered his son in the tone of one who admits
no denial, not even looking at him. He took his son by the arm and, as
if he were protecting him from the priest, forced Adriano to pass behind
himself as he pushed him towards the door.

The two lovers, sunk in their pain, offered no protest, no objection, no
entreaty, but each started to mourn inside his heart. Crespi's callous
demand was like a death sentence to the joy the two young men had begun
to find in their life together. The dreams that had been blossoming so
recently, now lay dead and scattered.

Through his study window, Gustavo could see the reflection of the sun on
Adriano's  dark, gently curling hair . The bowed head of his pure lover
glinted faintly and seemed to send him a last message of farewell.

>From the window he saw Ubaldo close the car door on his son, go around
the car, enter, start the engine, and  drive off around the corner. A
few seconds later Gustavo was kneeling in his bathroom in front of the
toilet vomiting up everything. As he stood up again and pressed the
lever, it seemed that everything good, even his soul had returned as
vomit and was being flushed down into the sewer. The strong man began to
cry.

At the Crespi home it was almost dinner time. The apartment was warm and
there was an agreeable atmosphere, accented by the smell of roasting
meat coming from the oven. In the living room Daniele was watching a
Western on television, while Loredana in the kitchen was keeping an eye
on the roast as her mother had taught her. Oreste was sitting at the
table in the living room, engrossed in the latest issue of "Micky Mouse
Magazine"

When the door opened the two boys lifted up their heads in surprise - it
was too early for either their mother or their father to be home. They
were  astounded when they saw Adriano come in, pushed almost violently
by their father. Their elder brother's face was flushed and their father
wore a terrible expression that the two boys had never seen before. They
watched, agape and silent, as the two crossed the room and disappeared
without a word towards the back of the apartment.

In the corridor, Adriano headed towards his bedroom. "Oh no, young
master! This show isn't over yet!" his father said, seizing his arm and
turning him around. "We still have a lot of things to clear up before
evening. Now get in my room!" the man added, closing the living room
door behind him. Diego and Oreste looked at one another in silence -
something terrible was happening.

Loredana appeared on the kitchen door, "Who was it? Mum?"

"Sshhhttt!" the two boys commanded, their faces pale.

"But..." the girl began, amazed by this response.

Diego switched off the T.V. and the two little boys pushed their sister
into the kitchen, closing the door behind them. They didn't want to hear
what they knew it was going to happen.

"Get inside!" the man ordered. He followed his son and locked the door,
slipping the key into his pocket. Adriano nervously passed his hand
through his hair, asking himself which would arrive first, the thrashing
or the words - he feared the latter much more; but he was no longer
willing to say "Yes, Sir!" to everything his father demanded.

"Adriano," the man started with a voice as sharp as a dagger, "Do you
know what that man was trying to make you do? Are you aware of what
people would say, not only about you and me, if such a thing were known?
Do you understand that it could ruin all I have worked so hard to build
over the years?" Ubaldo's face became hard as stone, "But I'm telling
you, I won't allow that to happen!" The fire, barely constrained, made
his voice go up a note, "Before that, I will break your head wide open,
I swear to God!"

Then, thinking that the main thing was to avoid a scandal, the man
assumed a vaguely conciliatory tone. He had to make a deal with his son
now, to teach him how he had to behave. Looking Adriano over from head
to toe several times and assessing him, he finally nodded, saying,
"Well... you are really still a kid, or anyway you are still too young
to get married... I guess I can understand. I mean... I am a man and I
can understand some... some... drives." he said searching for the right
words to say to his son to get him on his side. "Don't think I can't
understand you. Your father is no fool. Every man needs a woman,
especially when they are young. But there are situations in which it is
just not possible to have one."

Yes, his plan was now clear - he had to get his son on is side if he
were going to be able to ruin that priest. And, by God, he would ruin
him! He would make that man rue the day he had laid his filthy hands,
his lusty eyes, on the son of Ubaldo Crespi! Ha! The pervert!

"Anyway... anyway there is no possible solution, you see. One has to be
able to wait until marriage. Anything else is against God's law, not to
mention what all sound and respectable people would say. But you can
find relief... even if you haven't discovered it for yourself... I would
have thought that at least one of your friends would have explained to
you how... how to do it when you... you can't resist. I mean, by
yourself... with your hand. It is not really right, but at least it's a
less serious sin, do you see? Or you can flirt with a good girl, without
trespassing the limits... Your mother and I arrived at our wedding day
both virgins. Before that day, of course, there were some pecks, some
caresses, nothing more. I expected that my son would not be less than
me. But I can't understand it. I never thought you were a blockhead, and
I'm sure I'm not wrong about that! But I understand you. You went to see
him, the... the parson to ask for advice, and for that I don't blame
you, even though you should first have come to talk with me... And he...
he who should be the man of God... he took advantage from your
confusion, of your drive to... God! I will never be able forgive such
filthiness, such an hypocrisy, such paltriness in a man, and even less
in a man wearing the robe! It's disgusting! Anyway... now tell me... how
did he manage to convince you to do... to do those things, to yield to
his lust?"

He was somewhat calmer now and didn't even wait for his son's answer. He
was talking more to himself than to Adriano when he continued. "As for
that Cirasa... I really can't understand him! There is nothing feminine
about him. He is such a he-man, he's strong, a sportsman, sound... I
would never have guessed he could be a pervert. I could understand it if
he had tried with a girl... as wrong as that would be... There are even
priests who have abandoned the priesthood because of their weakness and
that have married. And the Church has now become so permissive that they
can even marry in the church, celebrating the sacrament... Yes, I could
even try to understand that... After all a priest is a man, too. But
with a boy... with you! And how many have there been before you? Jesus!
Now that I think about it, he was always amongst the youth, the boys...
who knows how many he's led astray, he's corrupted, he's led into sin?
He must have become really good at it..." he went on with contempt,
"It's not that I didn't know that such men existed, if they can be
called men. People who have appetites against nature, that make them
want to fondle kids, to milk them... or even do worse than that. One
reads about it in the newspaper sometimes..." Ubaldo stopped seized by a
horrible doubt, "Hey, he didn't by any chance... Adriano, with you...
did not he also try to... to..."

Adriano was silent. He had listened appalled to all the rigmarole his
father had been spewing out,  had felt all the poison and the contempt
his father was directing at the man he loved, and had undersood,
astonished, exactly what the man was trying to do - excuse his son by
making the man out to be guilty... But finally he could no longer
maintain his silence.

"Dad, I did everything he wanted from me... but he did the same for me -
everything I wanted. It was me who wanted to be with him! I begged him,
he didn't beg me!"

There was a short silence. Adriano's father looked at him, too astounded
to speak.

"That's the truth." Adriano added, almost unable to believe that he had
found within himself the strength finally to be totally sincere. "I
wanted to be with him."

"What?" his father shouted, for a moment more astounded than angered.

In silent testimony to the truth of his confession, a single tear
overflowed Adriano's eye and slid slowly down his cheek, a drop of pure
crystal which left a shining track in its path. The young man,
meanwhile, stood straight with pride, to assert his point with more
strength.

Adriano faced his father's glare directly. A moment passed "I wanted to
belong to him," he repeated, serious, sincere and strong. Even though he
knew that he could repeat it endlessly without his father really
understanding, he pronounced it with a clear voice, not challenging or
aggressive, but with total sincerity and without the slightest shame. He
repeated it again, "I wanted it. Me!"

"Shut up! Shut up, I say!" The man's breath came sterterously, while his
chest swelled and his fury rose again to dangerous levels at his son's
challenge to all he had said up to that moment, "Shut your mouth!" he
shouted, red with rage. He clapped his fists to his ears so as not to
hear his son's lips pronounce such blasphemy again. Then, on impulse, he
seized the front of his son's jacket and threw him violently away from
himself. The boy landed on his mother's dressing table and fell to the
floor amidst a rain of small plastic bottles and ceramic jars which
tinkled down on him in disorder together with colored cotton flock,
tissues, curlers and the contents of his mother's jewelry box.

The boy, who didn't emit a single moan, stayed still, half lying on the
floor, still looking into his father's eyes. The man tried to calm
himself and to calculate a way to keep shame from his family name.

"You expect me to believe that you... you, the son of Ubaldo Crespi,
blood of my blood... that you allowed him... that you let him take you
like a female?"

"That's right." the boy answered quietly.

There was no longer any excuse not to believe it. Ubaldo Crespi wiped
his sweaty hand along the seam of his trousers, as if he could thus
purify it from the contact with his son. Then he came closer to Adriano
and bent down. Grabbing him again below his shirt collar, he hoisted his
son up bodily and, looking him straight in the eyes with growing fury
when his son maintained his gaze, he shook him. "For God's sake! You did
it?" he sobbed, "You wanted it?" For a moment he was unable to believe
his son. But as the words penetrated, his rage increased along with his
disgust, his nausea towards his son. "You! You really... you asked that
man to fuck you like your were some cheap whore?" He slapped his son.
"You asked him to fuck you?" he repeated with a voice low which cut like
Spanish steel.

"He says he wanted it..." He yelled as he continued to methodically beat
the boy, "He says he likes it!" He ceased his assault against the boy
who was now trembling from head to toe. Then the man's face was twisted
into a mask of revulsion as he yelled furiously, "I am a man! I sired a
male, not a half woman, not some hooker who walks the streets!"With his
free hand Ubaldo Crespi punched the boy's face with the full force of
his anger.

Clara's anguished voice came from outside the door, "Ubaldo! What's
happening, for God's love!" Diego, scared, had phoned her and she had
come home from work at a run.

"Go away, Clara!" her husband thundered.

"Ubaldo, let me in! What's happening in there? Why did you lock the
door? Why are you shouting?" The woman shook the door.

"I told you to go away!" he shouted in anger, finding that even his wife
seemed not to obey him any more.

"I'm not going anywhere! I'm his mother and I have the right to know
what Adriano did! Ubaldo! Open this door!" Clara shouted with
determination.

"I told you to go to your kitchen, immediately!" the man yelled. His
neck veins were swollen, his face red. Then, with an icy tone and a
weird laugh, more of rage than amusement, he added, "Really, I wouldn't
have the heart to tell you now the kind of filthy fucking maggot you
gave birth to, woman. And what's worse, I never thought that such a pile
of shit could be part of me! If he really is!" he said with a sneer. "It
would have been better if I had jerked off that night instead of fucking
you!" he shouted.

The woman was more shaken by the vulgar words, which she had never
before heard her husband utter, than by the content of the sentence.
"What the hell are you talking about? Open this door!" she demanded,
starting to shake the door again.

Adriano felt blood dripping from his lip and from his arm that had
apparently been wounded when something had fallen from his mother's
dressing table. But all through the dialog between his father and
mother, his eyes had never left those of his father. Even if he were to
kil him, his father could never take away his love for Gustavo, and this
gave Adriano strength. He felt incredibly strong, much stronger than his
father. His face flushed, not with fear or pain, but because of this
discovery. His fear had left him completely.

Adriano slowly lifted up his hands and took hold of his father's hand
which was still grasping his shirt and forced open the  fingers. His
father looked at him in disbelief, but his son's two hands were stronger
than his own. The boy freed himself and stepped back, "Open that door,"
he demanded in a low, clear voice.

"What...?" his father asked, feeling his world crumbling in on him.

"Open it, or I'll knock it down!" his son repeated with an icy calm he
didn't know he had in him.

His father raised his fist, but his son stopped him with an iron grip on
his wrist, "Now that's enough! Don't you raise your hand to me again,"
he growled, forgetting all the teachings about honouring his father and
his mother that had been instilled in him  since the day he was born,
"Or this time, I swear to God, I'll break you in pieces!"

More than the menace, it was his son's icy, controlled voice and the
strength of the boy's iron grip on his wrist that persuaded the furious
man to take the key from his pocket with his free hand. Adriano seized
it rudely and discarded his father's wrist. As went towards the door, he
saw his father approaching out of the corner of his eye.

"Don't come near me. Let me be." Adriano hissed, without turning his
head, adding in a cold, low voice, "Leave me in peace!"

Opening the door, Adriano saw his mother's astounded expression. She had
overheard his last words, and seemed almost oblivious of the blood on
her son's face. His father, following him, brushed his shoulder with his
hand.

"Didn't you hear me?" Adriano asked, turning bursquely towards the man,
"If you lift even one finger against me again, I swear to God, I swear
that if anybody goes to the hospital with broken bones, it won't be me.
It'll be you, you son of a bitch!"

Ubaldo froze in his tracks as if he had been turned to stone, but Clara
seized her son's arm and said, harshly, "Adriano! What's happening in
this home? Do you know that you are speaking to your father, boy? Aren't
you aware? Your father!" she said, sorrowfully but decidedly,
interposing her body between the two men.

"What did you say?" the man burst out, recovering from the surprise of
the rebellion, first of his wife and then of his son. "His father! These
balls?! Clara, I'm a sound man, born to a sound family, one that always
lived a sound life, and you know it. How can a sound man have something
to do with that misbegotten sack of shit!?" he said full of anger, more
for the humiliation he was undergoing than for anything else. Then,
addressing his son, he yelled, "Out of here! Out of my house!" He
stretched out his arm and pointed with his finger towards the apartment
door. "You are nothing but a useless turd! Do you hear? You are the
filthiest piece of shit on this earth!"

"Don't worry, I'll never enter this house again until it will be time to
build a whitewashed sepulchre for your carcass, hypocrite pharisee!"
Adriano said to him with contempt, turning to leave.

Ubaldo followed him, shouting: "Go away, filthy creature! Go back to
him, you bastard! Go be his bitch! Go whore yourself to that filthy
man!"

Clara stood, completely undone by what was taking place before her eyes.
"But what is happening, in the name of God? Ubaldo, what are you talking
about?"

Bursting into sobs, she leaned on the doorframe between the living room
and the entryway, looking at her son who was tarrying at the door.
Adriano turned to look at her with pain in his eyes  only to hear the
voice of his father from the living room shouting at him again to
disappear from his life. Without any more hesitation, he opened the
apartment door, shut it it behind him with a bang, and ran down the
stairs. Burning tears streamed freely from his eyes. It was ten past
five in the afternoon.

At five thirty the telephone in Gustavo Cirasa's study rang. Gustavo
raised the receiver in a daze. He couldn't find his voice even to say
"hello." But it was no problem; as soon as he lifted the receiver, a
voice spoke from the other end. Even though it was distorted by venomous
contempt and disgust, the parson didn't have any problem recognizing
that voice. It was Ubaldo Crespi.

"Well, you pervert, if corrupting the sons of your parishioners is what
you really like, I have to admit that you are a professional. All right,
you bastard, I'll let you have him. And you can keep him, and fuck him
as much as you want," he said. There was a long pause, then he added, "I
am a God-fearing man, unlike you. I don't have faggot sons." Ubaldo spit
out these words with the assurance of the righteous man. "He's not my
son!"

Then his voice became scornful, "If I were you, I'd go to the window and
look out. I imagine that pretty soon someone will come to you to be
fucked like a bitch in heat. Why don't you marry him? Maybe in your own
church? He says he likes making you cum inside him!"

The dam that had held back Crespi's rage, broke down, "Do what fucking
shit you want to him! Dress him like a woman, paint his face with some
nice make up! Use him and all his various holes as you please! Just make
sure he never again shows himself to me, absolutely never again, or I'll
kill him. I am sorry to say that it seems that you get out of all this
scott-free. I talked to my lawyers; he is now of age, they say; and our
law doesn't protect me any more. You can fuck him as much as you want,
according to the law. At least I have two more sons... I don't want to
wash my dirty linen in court.  Mine has been  a respected and respectful
family for generations, and it won't be you two who ruin it! Therefore,
it will not be me who let's this story out to the town or the church.
So, you fucking bastard pig, the only thing you have to do from now on
is simply not to appear again in our church. Make up whatever excuse you
want, tell them you are sick; but don't you dare to celebrate the
Mass... I'll bet you would even have the face to take holy communion
with your hands still dripping with sperm!"

"Mister Crespi..."

"Shut up! I told you you, don't you dare to speak to me! Shut up and
listen! I've got more to tell you. Save yourself some problems and
listen to me! I have no time to waste listening to apologies, or lies,
or denials, or requests for forgiveness. You did something so dirty that
there is no forgiveness. You should just thank heaven that I have more
serious problems than a faggot son and his filthy boyfriend. But don't
forget what I'm about to tell you, listen to me carefully." He paused to
catch his breath, or maybe to create an effect.

"You will go on Monday to take away all your belongings from the parish
office, and you will move on to a new hunting territory. Here in town
there will no longer be a place for you. And, just to be absolutely
clear, to prevent you from moving to another parish to do your evil, I
am going to go see the Cardinal tomorrow. I am going to report you to
him and he will chase you from the church forever. I'll see that he cuts
you off and also prevents you from getting a job in a school as a
teacher of religious studies. You are going to have to disappear,
somewhere far away, where I can't find you, because, if I do find you, I
won't let you to take a breath! And remind that other one, too, if he
comes by again to get fucked by you, that I don't want to see him within
ten kilometers of my home or my office. I don't want to even see his
shadow."

Those were the last words that Gustavo heard, for Crespi hung up on the
other end. The young man remained a moment, looking at the receiver,
then he hung up, too. But he raised the receiver again almost
immediately and dialed a number.

He got an answer after a few seconds, and immediately said, "This is
Gustavo Cirasa, Your Eminence. I am sorry... I know it is late, but
tomorrow... Can you send another priest to celebrate the evening Mass,
and then also the Sunday masses in my church?... Yes, Your Eminence...
Yes, I know, but... Yes, I will come as soon as possible to explain it
all to you... Thank you your Eminence, and, again, I apologize...
Certainly, I will come by for the papers which I asked you for, too."

It was a quarter to six and Gustavo had just gotten out of the shower
when the doorbell finally rang...

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CONTINUES IN CHAPTER 13

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In my home page I've put some more of my stories. If someone wants to
read them, the URL is
http://andrejkoymasky.com
If you want to send me feed-back, or desire to help revising my English
translations, so that I can put on-line more of my  stories in English
please e-mail at
andrej@andrejkoymasky.com

---------------------------