Date: Mon, 7 May 2007 21:57:08 -0600
From: Roy <roynm@mac.com>
Subject: Phalen - Finding Happiness - chapter 12

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 twelve


by Roy Reinikainen


Greg walked into the condominium as Curt held the door open.  "What a
wonderful place!"  He walked to the wall of windows and looked down at the
people having fun on the lake below, and then to the university beyond.  "A
view like this could almost make me forget how exhausted I am."  He smiled
when Curt approached him from behind and wrapped him in a hug, kissing his
neck.

"Want a beer?"  He turned around and returned the hug.

"I'd really want a kiss."  When they separated he held Curt by the
shoulders at arm's length.  "Is everything okay?  You seem preoccupied."
He gave Curt a mock scowl.  "I've come to expect a certain quality of kiss
from you, y'know.  You're not living up to your standards."  He winked.

Curt absently kissed him on the tip of the nose and then walked to the
kitchen, returning with two bottles of beer.  He handed one to Greg and
then sprawled on the sofa, stretching his legs out in front of him,
gesturing for Greg to join him.

"It's just a feeling I have about my brother."  He made a slight face.
"We've never gotten along, but lately . . . he's acting stranger than
usual.  And let me tell you, *that's* difficult."  He took a long drink and
then paused, staring out the large windows speaking in a subdued voice.  "I
can't put my finger on what might be the problem.  Since I don't live at
home, I don't see enough of him to tell anything other than he's acting
. . . differently.  I've asked my parents, and they think something's weird
too, but the kid's got them so totally intimidated they wouldn't dare ask
him what's happening."  Curt squirmed into a new position, taking a long
swallow of beer.

"He should get out of the house and give them some peace."  He took another
swallow, emptying the bottle before Greg had even started his.  "Maybe he
could move to the Antarctic.  Let him terrorize some penguins or
something."  He made a placating gesture at Greg's frown.

"Okay, okay.  Maybe South Africa might be far enough away."  He set the
empty bottle on the table and sighed, snuggling closer to Greg.  "It's sad,
but I'm like my parents.  I'm frightened of what I think my brother may be
capable of."  He took a deep breath, determined to change the subject.

"How're things going with you?"

Greg stretched a leg out and toyed with one of Curt's feet with his bare
toes, grinning when he discovered Curt's feet were ticklish.  "I'm
exhausted.  With football season in full swing, we have plenty to keep us
occupied at the clinic, but that's not my major problem."

"Problem?"

Greg turned sideways on the sofa, and laid his head on Curt's lap.  He
grinned at the feeling of Curt's fingers running through his hair.  "Yeah.
It appears as if someone is trying to get me into serious trouble at the
clinic.  He has given one of my patients some pills and said they came from
me."  Curt's eyes widened as he slowly whistled.

"Thankfully my patient didn't take any of them.  All the records show I've
done nothing wrong, but it's never good to be under suspicion, especially
since I only just arrived."  He sighed, looking longingly at his empty beer
bottle.

"I don't suppose you have any more of these . . . and possibly some food?
I could make us some dinner.  I'm a whiz in the kitchen.  Hannele, my
parents' emannoitsija, our housekeeper, taught both Jeff and me how to
cook."  Curt gave him a skeptical look.

"Are we going to have some of Mom's home cooking?  You mentioned reindeer
and beet casserole, one time."  He shuddered.  "I've had a rough couple
days worrying about what my brother's up to, and I'm not sure I can handle
too much of a challenge."

"I won't challenge you, Mr. Sexy.  I'll make something verrry boring.
Besides, I don't think you have any reindeer meat in the freezer."

"Nor beets."  Curt made a comical face, causing Greg to chuckle as he stood
and walked into the kitchen.

An hour later they had finished the meal Greg had prepared and were sitting
on the balcony overlooking the lake, holding hands and finishing yet
another beer.  The sun had set, but the far side of the lake was bright
with the lights from the football stadium nestled between two hills.  From
time to time, they could hear the roar of the crowd.

"Do . . . do you mind if I spend the night?"  Greg linked his fingers with
Curt's, catching his look of pleased surprise.  "I've been sitting here
dreading going home to an empty bed.  Maybe I'm just feeling sorry for
myself, but I'd really like to be held by you."

"I can think of nothing I would like better."  He stood and offered Greg a
hand, closing the sliding doors behind them as they stepped into the
condominium.  He put his arm around Greg's waist as they walked down the
short hallway to the bedroom.

"Remember, handsome.  There are no expectations, no pressures.  He gently
pulled Greg to him and nuzzled his neck as they stood in the middle of the
large bedroom.  "I'd love to snuggle . . . to feel you in my arms."  He
continued to massage Greg's back and felt him slowly relax.

"Ummm," he hummed into Curt's hair.  "I'd like that too."  He took a
shuddering breath.  "I've dreamt of you holding me . . . and of me holding
you."

"May I help you with your shirt?"  Greg gave a brief, jerky nod of
approval, his eyes shifting between Curt's face and fingers as he slowly
unfastened the buttons running down the front and then pulled the
shirttails free.  He crooned his approval as he ran the palms of his hands
over the closely clipped hair on Greg's chest, following the trail over his
taut stomach to where it disappeared beneath the belt of his shorts.

Greg leaned his head back and breathed deeply through his mouth.  "Ohhhh
yessss," he murmured.  "Sooo good."  He glanced at Curt with a shy smile.
"You have a wonderful touch, you know."

Curt grinned and began to unfasten the buttons to his own shirt.  Greg
gently pushed his hands aside and used the same motions Curt had used on
him.

"This is much better lying down."  Curt grinned at Greg's expression.

"I don't see how it could possibly be any better."  He took a shuddering
breath and fumbled with his belt, dropping his shorts into a heap around
his ankles.  He stepped away from the shorts and gave Curt a hesitant grin;
surprised to see Curt had also stripped out of his shorts and was standing
before him wearing a pair of small white briefs.

"Am I okay," he murmured, standing before Curt in a pair of black boxer
briefs Phalen had suggested he start wearing.  The briefs stretched across
his flat stomach and stretched across the swell of his genitals as well as
his round buttocks.

Curt reached out and tenderly traced a line over Greg's cheek with his
fingers, ending at his lips.  "Ohhhh, yes." He exhaled an emotion-laden
breath.  "You are so much more than okay.  You are stunning."  He grinned
as he took Greg's hand and led him to the large bed.  "You had no trouble
losing the clothes."

Greg chuckled as he joined Curt in the large expanse of black sheets and
large pillows.  "I've been practicing."  Curt made a sound of inquiry as
Greg nestled close.  "I've been trying to wear less when I'm around Jeff
and Phalen.  I'm doing better, but I still have a way to go.  If I was
totally comfortable, I'd have lost the underwear too."

Curt nuzzled against Greg's neck.  "I sorta like the mystery, myself."

Suddenly, there was the sound of fireworks accompanied by multiple flashes
of light and the distinct roar of the crowd.  "Wha . . ." Greg began,
turning toward the open balcony doors, and the source of the light and
sound.

"Someone scored a touchdown over at the football stadium.  There's a game
tonight."  He pulled Greg close once more.

"Oh."  He relaxed back into the embrace.  "I guess that's a good thing,
considering all the noise."

Curt kissed him on the cheek, "Yes, that's good, just like holding you is.
The football team must have made a touchdown, but *I'm* the lucky one."
Greg made a questioning sound.  "You're here with me"

Greg snuggled close and buried his face in the nape of Curt's neck taking a
ragged breath, and then another in an effort to control emotions
threatening to escape.

"Shhhh, handsome.  Everything is good."  Curt tenderly ran his open hand
down Greg's back, hesitating only an instant before continuing down over
the fabric-covered buttocks.  Greg choked back a breath and tried to
snuggle closer, throwing his right leg over Curt's.

He managed to stammer out a "thank you," before Curt felt the warmth of
tears running down his neck from where Greg still had his face hidden.  He
continued to stroke Greg's back feeling a tenderness he had never
experienced.  'This is soooo much better than the life I used to lead,' he
thought.  'The simple act of being held means so much to him, and because
it means so much to *him,* I'm realizing how important being held can be.'
He tightened his embrace, realizing how much he and Greg were giving each
other.  Both had been lonely, lacking self-confidence.  Over the past few
months, they had both begun to . . . heal.

After some time the tears stopped, followed by the intermittent ragged
breath.  Eventually Greg's breathing returned to normal and he propped
himself up and wiped his eyes with the back of a hand, looking like a
little boy, and then kissed Curt on the cheek.

"Hold me," he asked in a small voice.

"Count on it."  Greg snuggled close, and in no time his breathing slowed.
Curt continued to hold him in a loose embrace, thinking how wonderful it
was to have a man at his side once again.  He rolled his head to the side
and gently kissed the top of Greg's head.

"G'night, handsome," he whispered.  "Pleasant dreams."  He closed his eyes
and drifted off to sleep with the even rhythm of Greg's breath against his
neck and a pool of moonlight draping over them.

It was the first night since he and Brad separated that he hadn't looked at
Brad's photograph before turning out the light to tell him he loved him.


----------


The crowd surged to its feet as the seconds on the clock ticked down.  The
football seemed to hang in the air and time seemed to stop for everyone
except the player who kept his eye on the ball as he ran toward the end
zone, and the spot the ball was heading.  He could hear the opponent's
defensive end fall with a thud and the sound of expelled breath as he made
a leaping attempt to make the tackle.  He was in the perfect spot to catch
the ball.  He was alone.  The game was on his shoulders.

He took the final steps and held out his arms, welcoming the ball as he
would a lover.  Time resumed.  The instant of quiet ended with an eruption
of sound, reverberating between the two hills enclosing the university
football stadium.

He was into the end zone.  The noise increased and he was immediately
swamped by his teammates as the game ended and the night time sky was
filled with celebratory fireworks, their strobe-like flashes reflecting off
the new condominium towers across the lake.

Near the top of the stadium, in what he fondly called the stratosphere,
Larry and Brad joined everyone else in cheering their championship team.
It was the first time he had ever hugged Brad in public.  Everyone was
cheering, with his or her eyes either on the still celebrating team or on
the explosions overhead.  No one would see their kiss.  It lasted only a
moment and caused Brad's eyes to widen with surprise.  He gave Larry a
tentative smile and then they joined the crowd, continuing to cheer.  Not
since the university's national championship team had the crowd been given
such a reason to celebrate.

Brad turned to him with a bright smile and flushed cheeks and leaned close
for another kiss.

'It can't get any better than this,' Larry thought, as he held Brad's hand.
'It just can't.'


----------


"G'morning, handsome."

Greg accepted the greeting with a blurry-eyed expression and a groan.
"Morning?  Already?"  Curt moved his arm away from Greg's chest and propped
himself up on his elbows, yawning before rolling out of bed and taking the
few steps to the open balcony doors to look outside.

"How late is it?"  Greg rolled over and glanced at the bedside clock before
falling back among the pillows with another groan.  "It's almost *noon!*"
Curt's chuckle caused him to remove the arm he had thrown across his eyes
and focus on the man he'd spent the night with.

Curt stood at the side of the bed, his hands on his hips wearing a bright
smile.  His brief low-cut underwear cupped his prominent genitals and
allowed the top of his pubic hair to escape.  His hair was sleep-tousled,
but even though he had only just gotten out of bed, his eyes were sparkling
and his cheeks rosy.

"Damn, you look nice."

Curt smiled at the compliment, flexing the muscles of both arms, and then
proceeded to do a parody of a body builder's posing routine which left them
both laughing.  Somehow lewdly grabbing one's crotch or gyrating one's hips
with one's back turned to the audience, performed in time to an off-key
version of stripper music was part of a body builder's posing routine.

"I've heard that those muscle guys get pumped up," Curt said as he flopped
onto the bed.  He gave Greg a mischievous look.  "I've been looking for the
nozzle where I can attach the pump but haven't found one."  He shrugged
slightly and made a face.  "I guess I'm going to have to be satisfied with
the way I am."

Greg snorted.  "I wouldn't worry about the body.  There's nothing wrong
that a little time at the gym won't cure."  Curt's eyes widened and he
rolled onto Greg and looked into his eyes for a moment before he kissed
him, thrilled with how Greg responded.  As quickly as the kiss had begun,
it ended.  Curt rolled off the bed and headed down the hall.

"Hey, you're not supposed to kiss and run!  Come back here!  You can wait
to start an exercise routine for a few more minutes!"  Curt dismissed the
comments with a wave over his shoulder as he turned toward the kitchen.

Greg called to the kitchen.  "I have to call Jeff and let him know I'm
okay.  He's probably wondering what happened to me."  He rubbed his eyes
and sat up in bed, leaning against the headboard.  "Don't forget the
coffee," he shouted.  There was a distant laugh.

"Yeah, yeah.  We're not even married, and you already have me working
harder than an ugly stripper."  Soon, the smell of coffee brewing wafted
into the bedroom accompanied by more of Curt's off-tune stripper music.

Greg shook his head and smiled at Curt's antics.  He reached past Brad's
photograph and picked up the phone and looked around the room, details
appearing he had not seen last night.  The top of the dresser was a virtual
shrine to Brad with framed photos and mementos littering its surface.  The
nightstand sported only one photograph, this one of Brad waving to the
camera and wearing a funny looking hat sporting what looked like a pair of
ears, standing in front of a castle.  'A castle?'  Otherwise, the room
appeared as if a person had put it together with more enthusiasm than
design sense.  'I wonder what Brad would think.'  He snorted to himself.
'Brad . . . I can't get rid of him.'

He dialed the number and rubbed his eyes as he waited for someone to answer
the call.  'Damn, I feel as if he's in the room with me.'

"Hello, Layson and Weston residence."

"Good morning, Phalen.  This is Greg."

"Yes, I'm fine. I'm over at Curt's.  I'll be home later."  He cleared his
throat and held out a hand, making an impatient gesture at Curt, who was
approaching with a steaming cup in both hands.  "Sorry I didn't call you
last night.  Oh, and before you ask, no, we didn't.  And, don't sound so
disappointed.  I'm having lots of fun.  I've been here less than
twenty-four hours and I already have him serving me morning coffee in bed."
Phalen could hear Curt laugh in the background.

"Hey, Phalen," he shouted.  "Your brother-in-law and I need to take a
shower.  You guys can talk later."  He thrust a steaming cup of coffee into
Greg's outstretched hand.

He gingerly sipped the coffee, smiling and nodding his appreciation at
Curt.  "Okay.  Tell Jeff not to worry.  He's just like Mother."  He paused
a moment and listened to something more.  "Nakemiin."  He pressed the
phone's off button and smiled at Curt who was sitting on the side of the
bed with a puzzled expression.  "Sorry, sometimes the words just slip out.
It means, bye."

Curt leaned across the bed, propping himself up on an elbow and gave Greg
his best starving waif look.  "I'm hungry.  Let's shower and then get a big
breakfast."  Greg looked into his coffee cup and heaved a sigh.

"Sure . . . okay."  He set the coffee cup on the nightstand, next to the
photograph and swung his legs over the edge of the bed.  After a short
pause he stripped out of his underwear with a determined breath, not
meeting Curt's eyes.  "Okay, I'm ready."

His stride was confident as he crossed the room, the flawless white skin of
his buttocks made more pronounced by his tan line.  'What a butt,' Curt
thought to himself, captivated by the smooth skin and the flex of the
muscles.

He stepped out of his underwear and tossed them aside, hurrying into the
bathroom where he heard the shower already running.  Greg gave him a half
grin as he entered the steam-filled enclosure and then stood under the hot
water for a few moments in silence before looking up and meeting his eyes.

Curt used the opportunity.  'What a beautiful man.'  Besides the dark blue
eyes and sensuous lips, two things he had immediately been attracted to,
Greg had a lightly defined chest with a spread of closely clipped black
hair which tapered to a thin line at his navel before joining a thick pubic
patch.  His penis hung limp, draping over a pair of large smooth testicles.
His legs were well defined, with a light covering of hair.

After returning Curt's look with a diffident smile, he looked down at
himself, as if to verify his suspicions and then gave Curt a crooked grin,
briefly raising his arms away from his sides before dropping them back with
a resigned sigh.

"Well, here we are."  He looked down at himself once more.  "And, I'm not
hard."

Curt grinned.  "Neither am I."  He stepped closer and tilted Greg's head up
with a finger under his chin.  "Are you *determined* to feel bad?  You
shouldn't expect to have an erection every time you step into the shower."

Greg rested his hand with fingers splayed wide on Curt's chest, over one of
his nipples.  He slowly moved the hand across the chest until he rested on
the opposing nipple and looked at Curt from behind lowered eyelashes.  "I
should be hard as a rock when I'm in the same shower with someone who looks
like *you.*

"Well."  Curt smiled brightly.  "Thank you, Dr. Layson.  I think you're
sexy as hell, too."  He stepped closer and wrapped his arms around Greg's
waist in a loose embrace trying to coax a smile.

It was less than four months since he had arrived in Phoenix, carrying both
the bags containing his possessions as well as the emotional baggage of a
lifetime.  The man he'd become, standing naked in the shower, kissing
another man was someone entirely new.  For the most part, Curt was
responsible.

His tongue fought with Curt's, and soon both men were breathing heavily as
their kiss became passionate.  He felt the first stirrings of an erection
and pulled Curt closer, thrusting his hips forward in an effort to gain a
measure of extra stimulation.  The feeling of Curt's own erection pressed
against his belly sent shivers of anticipation coursing through his body.
The man, the kiss, and the shower . . .  It was like one of his fantasies,
only better.  He could *feel* this fantasy . . . and *taste* it.

Curt looked into his eyes and then leaned close, speaking in a husky voice
only inches from his ear.  "My handsome doctor."  The words were barely
more than a murmur, a breath against his ear, as much felt as heard.  A
moment later he began kissing a line from Greg's neck to his nipples, where
he paused long enough to nibble on each, sending shivers of pleasure
coursing through Greg's body.

He slowly moved down Greg's stomach, his kisses following the trail of hair
past his navel to the dense black pubes and the pulsing erection.  He
paused a moment to admire the thick straight penis, its wide, flaring head,
and the clear drop of precum poised at it's end.

Greg shifted position, causing the head of his penis to brush across Curt's
cheek and then over his lips, a silent demand for gratification.  A moment
later, he shifted again, pushing the head of his cock against Curt's mouth.

"Lick it," he ordered, wiping the head of his cock over Curt's cheek,
leaving a glistening trail behind.  "I've dreamt of this."  He gave a
shuddering breath, and then continued.  "All my life."

Curt slowly licked across the piss slit getting his first taste of Greg, a
thick slightly salty presence on his tongue.  Greg had once mentioned once
that he enjoyed eating his own sperm.  He described scooping it up and
letting it dangle in a thick strand over his open mouth until it finally
landed on his tongue, and then licking his fingers clean.  Curt could feel
his own penis throb in anticipation of tasting it as well.

He opened his mouth, welcoming both the entire length of Greg's erection,
as well as the way Greg gripped his shoulders, and the way he began to fuck
his face.  He could now taste what must almost be a prodigious flow of
precum.  It coated his tongue, lubricating the movement of each stroke of
Greg's penis.

After only a few moments, Greg's grip tightened and his breathing became
labored.  He spread his feet for more leverage and then buried himself down
Curt's throat as his orgasm took control.  He could feel each time Curt
swallowed, and how he milked his cock, coaxing out every last drop of
sperm.

Finally, Curt rocked back on his heels letting Greg's erection slip from
his mouth, though it continued to pulse and glisten only inches away from
his face.  A moment later he leaned forward and licked across the end,
sucking a long strand of sperm into his mouth as Greg's breathing slowly
returned to normal.

"Damn," he murmured just loud enough to be heard over the shower spray,
standing, pulling Greg close.  "You taste good.  I can understand why you
like to eat your own cum."  He licked his lips and smiled at Greg's
slightly dazed expression.

A moment later, Greg was on his knees facing him, sharing the taste of his
own sperm on Curt's tongue.

"Thank you," he murmured, resting his head on Curt's shoulder, his arms
around his waist.  "Thank you, so much.  My . . . my fantasies were no
match for the real thing."

He knelt in front of Curt, taking him in his arms, ignoring the hard tile
of the shower against his knees.  "Damn, damn . . . damn," he murmured
after a lengthy kiss.  "It works after all."  Curt gave him a quizzical
look.  "My penis," he added, in explanation.  "I was really afraid it
wouldn't work . . . when I was with someone."  He laughed aloud and then
squeezed Curt tighter.  "I could love you for what you've just done for
me."  He paused a moment in reflection and then laughed once more.  "I'm
*normal!*"

He gave Curt another brief kiss and then urged him to stand, grasping
Curt's erection at its base, focusing on the drooling head only inches from
his face.

"It's not necessary," Curt murmured, meeting Greg's glance of longing.

"I want to . . . badly."

"Can I watch it shoot into your mouth?  I want to see your mouth full of my
sperm."  The only indication Greg gave that he had heard was a slight nod.

Curt drew a deep breath.  Merely the sight of his cock disappearing into
Greg's mouth was almost enough to make him cum.  Knowing that this was
Greg's first time to suck a cock made the sight even more exciting, and it
wasn't long before he could feel the stirrings of an orgasm.  Greg could
feel it too.  He sat back on his heels and opened his mouth wide, sticking
out his tongue, his eyes shifting from the erection before him to Curt's
determined expression and then back.

After only two slow strokes up and down the length of his erection, Curt
gasped and watched the first jet of sperm splash onto Greg's tongue.  He
thrust his hips closer.  The next shot also landed squarely on Greg's
tongue.  The third, splashed against his lower lip, and was swiped back
into his mouth as Curt smeared the end of his penis over Greg's cheek and
lower lip.

He stood and faced Curt with his mouth open, the sperm coating his tongue.
Curt made a soft groaning sound deep in his throat as he put a forefinger
into Greg's mouth, moving it over his tongue and through the sperm.

Greg watched him hold his slimy finger in front of his face for a moment
and then put it into his mouth and suck on it, his eyes sparkling.

Greg moved closer.  He remembered seeing Jeff and Phalen swap sperm.  He
wanted Curt to taste his own jiz.  Somehow, this was almost as exciting as
having the thick liquid hit his tongue.  Neither man was content to merely
trade the sperm back and forth.  The results of Curt's orgasm were soon
coating their face as they kissed, and teased each other, and laughed.

"Damn, you taste good," Greg murmured, licking across Curt's chin and lower
lip.  "Let's have another go," he said with a lascivious grin.  "Are you up
for it?"  Curt laughed and shook his head in disbelief.

"You certainly are."  He nodded toward Greg's still-erect penis.  "Do you
suppose that now that you've got it up, it'll never go *down?*" He reached
out to tenderly caress the erection.  "You'd better find a way to get it to
go down.  I don't think it would be very easy to hide *this,* even with a
pair of very loose pants."


----------


Weight training was becoming an ordeal he dreaded more every day.  'They'
were always there, always muttering to each other, looking over their
shoulder . . . hanging out with the creepy guy, Dustin.

Phalen looked away from his two teammates and began to adjust the weight
machine.  'If I were going to buy stuff from that Dustin guy, I think I'd
have sense enough to do it where I couldn't be seen by the entire baseball
team.'  He straddled the seat and strained to lift the heavier-than-usual
load.

He looked up as the coach shouted.  "Hey, Morrison, Benford, get your butts
back in here!  Where do you think you're going?"  Dustin, the slightly
built blond, slinked back into the shadows.

"To the bathroom, coach," Hugh Benford shouted.

"Together?"  The coach's comment drew snickers from much of the team.
Phalen didn't even grin as he watched the two athletes jog to where Dustin
stepped out of the shadows as they approached.  The coach casually strolled
across the room and glanced in their direction, pausing a moment before
turning to help someone with their weights.

Phalen watched the three men talk for a short while before what he assumed
was money, changed hands and the transaction was complete.  Dustin turned
and left without a backward glance, leaving the two athletes to jog into
the locker room to stow their purchases.

"Hey, Weston," the coach shouted over the clanking of the weight machines
and grunts of the athletes.  "It's not like you to slack off.  You okay?"
Phalen nodded and tried to smile before returning to his routine.

'It can't be Greg who's giving stuff out,' he thought as he pushed himself
harder than usual.  'It *can't* be.  Don't they check drugs in the clinic
to make sure nothing is missing?'  He stood and walked to another machine,
angrily adjusting the seat height and weight load.

'They say the new doctor *had* to leave wherever it is he was from.  Why
did Greg suddenly decide to leave and move here?  Was it just because he
wanted to be near Jeff?'  He reached for the machine's handgrips and began
his set, huffing to a finish a few minutes later.  One of his teammates
gave him a puzzled look when he released the weights with a loud clank.  He
ignored the look, rubbing his face with a towel to hide his worried
expression.

'It can't be Greg! . . . Can it?'  He paused a moment.  'What if it *is?*
What'll Jeff do?'  He rubbed his hands over his face, knuckling his burning
eyes.  'Damn, I wish I could get some sleep.  All I think about is what
would happen if I told Jeff I believe his brother might be involved with
drugs.  They've only just become close.'  He drank deeply from the bottle
of chilled water he carried with him, and then leaned forward, resting his
elbows on his knees.

'I'm not being fair.  I've only heard stuff.  I don't know that the person
responsible is Greg.  But . . . what if it is?  I can't tell Jeff.'  He
moved to another weight machine, looking toward the coach as he sank onto
the seat with a weary sigh.  'I've *got* to tell someone!'

He tried to analyze his emotions as he watched Benford and Morrison walk
past.  'I'm frustrated because I don't know how I can do something to
change things without hurting someone.  I'm angry with Dustin.  But, mostly
. . . I'm tired.'  He shook his head.  'I can't think straight.  Everything
I've heard points to Greg, but I can't believe he'd ever be involved with
someone like Dustin.'

He sat down with an exhausted grunt.  'Jeff would hate me if I said
something that ended up getting Greg in trouble.'  He rubbed his tired
eyes.  'No, he wouldn't hate me.  I haven't done anything wrong.'  He
angrily shook his head as if he could drive away the nagging worries.  'I
don't want it to be Greg.'  He bowed his head.  'Please, don't let it be
Greg.'

He turned in surprise as the coach rested a hand on his shoulder and then
squatted nearby, studying Phalen's bloodshot eyes.  "Are you okay, Phalen?
Is anything wrong?"  He glanced at the coach's concerned expression,
swallowed, and shook his head.

"Thanks coach.  I'm okay."  The coach squeezed his shoulder.

"No, Phalen.  Anyone can tell by taking a look at you that you're not
okay."  His hand continued to rest on Phalen's shoulder.  "My door's open
if you ever need to talk.  Remember that."  Phalen nodded, swallowing past
a lump in his throat, made worse when the coach paused a moment to give him
an encouraging pat on the back before he walked away, raising his voice and
once again becoming the traditional version of a coach as he shouted to
someone to get to work.

'I wonder if Greg really was with Curt last night.'  He shook his head and
massaged the back of his neck.  'He's Jeff's brother.  I can't get him into
trouble.'  He leaned back and took another drink from his water bottle.
'Hell, I've got to be fair.  I don't *know* Greg is the person they're
talking about.'  He looked into the distance, seeing nothing.  'What would
Jeff do to me if he found out it was me who reported his brother for
selling drugs?'  He returned to the weight machine.  'I can't lose Jeff.'




~ 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