Jack Edwards

The Activist , Pt 13

I think there is an inherent loneliness to being gay; at least when you’re young and feeling different from everyone else. And yet, when I came to UT, I wasn’t looking for romance. My vague hope was to finally get to have sex with other guys. When my life and Nate’s snapped together like two magnets, right off, love, like it does for many people, came by surprise.

Those first three months with Nate, I experienced emotions which before I thought sappy, silly, and only existing in movies and books for girls. What I discovered was that horny eighteen-year-old boys can fall as deeply in love as any girl; perhaps more so. And I discovered that all those sentiments I had thought were complete fiction, were real, and made my life real in ways it had never been real before.

An eighteen-year-old youth, in love, is perhaps the most romantic creature on the planet.

I looked forward to that first Christmas with Nate with as much happy anticipation as I had ever looked forward to any day in my life. Nate did, too. He was, after all, a horny eighteen-year-old boy who had fallen as desperately in love as I had.

Neither of us was lonely, anymore.

Before leaving for work on Christmas Eve, Nate and I packed the trunk of my Mustang with clothes, and with the groceries we had purchased Sunday. We left for the lake as soon as Maggie let us off work that evening.

I gave Nate the map and written directions and asked him to navigate.

“Are you sure?” he asked, opening the map with obvious interest. “I’ve never ‘navigated before. I’ve barely ever traveled anywhere, except as a kid when we went to the beach a couple of times, or on weekend trips to see relatives in San Marcos.”

“Sure,” I said. “You get us lost, and we’ll just snuggle in the back seat.”

It was dark, and back then, Mustangs didn’t have map lights. I removed a penlight I had on my key chain and gave it to Nate to hold. With the map in his lap, I leaned over to trace our route for him with my finger. I felt him watching me more than the map. I glanced at him. He was grinning.

“You happy?” I asked with a grin of my own.

He hugged my neck, pressing the side of his face to mine. “I love you!” he said, squeezing.

I hugged him back. “This is going to be so good,” I said, and then I kissed him, right there in the parking lot.

There wasn't much to see as we drove because the moon was just rising, but the ride was fun; Nate and me, getting away, just the two of us, to a place by ourselves, even if only for two nights and a day.

The trip passed quickly, and soon we were on the road around the lake.

"That's gotta be it," Nate said, as we came even with an odd combination of trailer home and wooden add-on. There were trees and space between it and the houses on either side. Beyond it, we could see cattails in the moonlight, and beyond the cattails, the black water of the lake.

I pulled into the drive, parking close to the door. It had been warm in the car; Nate and I had shed our coats. But now, as we stepped out, the cold was bracing. We quickly let ourselves into the add-on.

It was warm inside. The air was thick with the smell of oak and old wood fires.

Nate found a light switch and turned it on. Inside, the add-on was basically a very large den with a corner fireplace on the lake side. The floor was polished concrete with a few rugs. There were old couches and chairs and a long table. There were also three different beds; two twin beds along the wall against the trailer, and one double bed under large windows looking out toward the lake. It was easy to picture how it might be in the summer, windows open.

A large, forced-air heater was on. It hung from the ceiling in the corner opposite the fireplace and blew across the room.

We unlocked the trailer home, and stepped in. It was fairly typical inside, and warm. Three potted poinsettia plants brightened the living room. A miniature, decorated Christmas tree sat on the small, dining table. Beside the little tree, lay a note:

Welcome to our lake home. Please make yourselves at home. We have stacked wood for you by the fireplace. We lit the water heater and turned on the heaters. Set the temperature however you would like it. There is a bottle of champagne in the refrigerator. Merry Christmas! – Marv and Virginia Shipman

“Wow,” Nate said. “That was nice.”

I nodded. “They think we’re a straight couple.” I glanced at him. “I feel a little guilty.”

Nate took on a serious expression and laid his hand on my back. “We’ll just have to get something straight between us, then.”

I elbowed his ribs.

Nate was please with the kitchen. We brought in the groceries, and Nate transferred the ‘cold stuff’ from the ice chest to the refrigerator.

The trailer had a separate heater. We found it as we started to explore. It was set on seventy.

"Warm enough for us?" I asked Nate.

"Seventy-five,” he said – this was not long before the first energy crises. “I need my bread to rise." Then he smiled. "And that's warm enough to take some clothes off."

I set it on seventy-five.

While Nate worked on supper, I started a fire in the fireplace. When I started to come back inside the trailer, he shooed me away from the kitchen.

"Go make the bed," he told me.

So I took the sheets and pillows we'd brought, and made the double bed in the add-on; the one under the big windows. The bed had one blanket, but it was cold beside the windows. So I gathered blankets from the other beds as well.

Nathan had found a large tray, and with it, he made two trips to the rug in front of the fireplace. He set up a picnic for us there, with fancy sandwiches made on Kaiser rolls, and wine. Also on our plates were olives, pickles, and chips.

We sat side by side. We ate and we talked. Nate was happy. The candlelight danced in Nate's eyes. I was happy, too, in a very deep way. I was sacrificing something to make Nate happy, and that he was happy, made me feel wonderful inside.

I was sad, too. I was sad to not be with my family, of course, but it was more than that. I wondered if I had had my last Christmas with my family.

“I know it isn’t Christmas until the morning, but I want you to open one of your presents,” Nate told me. He got up to retrieve it from the box of presents we’d brought, and he returned with it to the rug in front of the fire.

“Open it,” he said, handing me the shirt-box size package.

Tearing open the wrapping paper, I balled it up and tossed it over the fire screen and into the fire. Then I opened the JC Penney box. Inside were red flannel pajamas.

“I thought they’d make great Christmas pajamas,” Nate said. “They ought to be warm.”

I frowned, shaking my head. “But I didn’t get you anything like this… you know, to wear around here.”

He smiled. “I could wear the top for you, and you could wear the bottoms.”

I grinned. “Excellent idea!”

We stood up and stripped to our briefs and socks. We kept those on because of the cold floor, and to keep our privates warmer. Then I put on the flannel pajama bottoms, and Nate buttoned on the top.

“Nice legs,” I said, looking over his bare legs.

“Nice body,” Nate said, looking over my bare torso. “Here,” he said, “wear them a little lower.” He pushed the waist band of the pajama bottoms down on my hips so that they barely cleared my pubes in front and my buttcrack in back. He stood back to admire, and grinned. And then he chuckled.

“What?” I asked.

“I just realized, I have to make my dough so it can rise in the morning… Something else started to rise, and that reminded me.”

While I cleaned up our supper, Nate made a roll dough, and put it into the fridge.

"I'll get it out to rise in the morning," he told me.

We took our wine out into the add-on and sat on the rug in front of the fire. Nate sat between my legs, leaning back against me. We sipped quietly; guys don't always have to talk. I nuzzled the back of his head and he rubbed the flannel legs of my pajamas.

When the fire began to die, I threw on two more logs. We walked over to the bed. I had already set the lube on a chair beside it. Nate and I embraced. We kissed. I unbuttoned his pajama top and laid it on the back of the chair. I removed and laid the pajama bottoms on the chair as well. We stripped off our briefs at the same time, and then we climbed between the cold sheets and clung to one another's warm body.

"Merry Christmas," I told him.

He smiled. "Merry Christmas," he said, laying his hand on the side of my face. His eyes went back and forth between mine; fondly at first, but then with deeper feeling. His eyes watered.

From the beginning, whenever Nate did that eye-searching sort of thing, he let me see his heart. Often, like that night, he let me see his need for me.

Back in high school, whenever I saw neediness in a girl's eyes, it always put me off. Girls could be so clingy, in a possessive, energy sapping way. Nate was completely different.

Nate let me see his vulnerability; he let me see his past hurt. And yet, Nate was strong inside, and the need for me which I saw in his eyes was as much a need to love me as a need to be loved. His need was always an invitation.

That night, the wordless, deep emotions he let me see in his dark eyes sang to me like a song… of need, and gratitude, and exquisite love. The song was deep but simple, guileless, transparent. We had from the beginning, as well; a mutual transparency, a willing vulnerability to one another; a desire to be known and to know.

As we lay there, nose to nose with his hand on the side of my face, I felt very much as if we were young boys, enjoying that absolutely pure love boys can have for one another in newfound friendship, and in lasting friendship.

My heart responded as it always did to his expressive eyes, with a surge of the affection for which he looked. I let him see it. I let him see it freely. I let him see my pure happiness. My eyes watered, too.

“You won’t ever be alone at Christmas,” I whispered.

A tear ran down along his nose. I kissed it. I kissed his lips… wine flavored kisses. Kisses became warm, and warmth became fire.

I rolled onto him, probing into his mouth with my tongue. He clutched at my bottom, pulling my hips between his thighs. I held him by the backs of his shoulders and we ground our erections together.

We were young; our bodies were lithe. Under the warmth of the bed covers, all was soft skin and hard muscles… sinews... steel-hard erections. It grew literally hot between our bellies. I felt euphoric. I felt pleasure; so much pleasure... pleasure that was soul-deep.

We rolled. We were gentle. We paced our warm passion. I came when Nate was on top of me, his cheek pressed hard to mine; and I kept moving with him until he came a moment later.

He relaxed on me. He nuzzled under my ear. "Now," he whispered, "we can really take our time."

He kissed my lips, and then slipped under the covers.

I lay, looking up at the night sky through the window. Nate was spooned behind me. He had an erection again, pressed against my butt. Nate nibbled on the side of my neck and reached in front of me, down between my legs, to fondle me to another erection as well.

I hooked my top leg back over his to give him better access, and I rubbed the back of the hand he had between my legs, with my palm.

"What do you want to do, Nate?" I asked thoughtfully. "I mean, in life. What do you want to do in life besides become a great chef? Like, you ever wanna be rich or famous?"

Nate paused. "Like a rock star?" he asked, and I could hear his amusement.

"If you really wanna be a rock star, I should know. I mean, I was just thinking that we ought to know each other's dreams. We’re together now, that means we share our future, right? I ought to know what you want our future to be."

Nate was quiet a moment, and then he nuzzled beneath my ear. "No one's ever asked about my dreams," he said quietly. "No one's cared."

I rolled back toward him, onto my back, and my eyes met his. "I care," I said.

Nate smiled. He cocked a leg over my middle, pressing his erection to my hip. With the inside of his thigh, he pressed my cock back up against my belly. His eyes traveled over my eyebrows and my forehead, then met my eyes. "I don't know what to dream," he said, gently. "Except for us to be together."

"Your dreams don't have to be big dreams, Nate," I told him. "Like, you know I like fishing. I've always wanted to have a boat. If you wanted to have a boat, we'd have the same dream." I smiled at him. "If you wanted to have the world's largest collection of eye shadow, I'd make it my dream, too… for you to have that." I smoothed the hair back off his forehead. "Your dreams are going to be my dreams, Nate."

Nate's eyes grew thoughtful and went to my hairline. He shifted his leg, rubbing the underside of my cock. "I've always wanted a fancy house," Nate said. "Not too small a house either... with beautiful furniture and carpets and windows... like you see in magazines."

I laid my hand on his hip. "I'd like a house like that, too."

Nate's eyes dropped to my eyes. "What kind of boat?"

"Any kind," I told him. "A bass boat. A party boat. Anything we can take out on the water and go fishing or swimming... maybe I could make a boat be like a floating laboratory, and I can study wildlife between times I'm making life wild with you."

Nate chuckled. He pulled his leg back and then pulled my legs up over his hip as he bent his legs under my bottom. If we'd been sitting up, I'd have been sitting across his lap. He settled my legs over the side of his hips, and he rubbed my belly with his hand. I felt his erection under my bottom.

I grabbed a pillow to stuff under my butt. Nathan leaned back and grabbed the lube.

Under the bedcovers, I felt him spread lube into my buttcrack, and then he put the lube aside. With me on my back, my legs over Nate's hips, we adjusted to line up. Nate's wet crown pressed into my crack, sliding between my buns. I felt him at my entrance. I relaxed, letting him in.

My cock hardened more as his thickness filled me and slid under my prostate. I wiggled onto him, and we merged, my butt in his lap. Nate bent hard at the waist, to wrap an arm under my back, and suck my nipple. He pumped his hips gently. I laid my arm across the backs of his shoulders, and I made little circles with my bottom to meet his grinding.

My nipple grew hard. I felt Nate's teeth on my areola. His hand reached between my legs to fondle my balls, and then to grab my cock. He lifted his head, and I lifted mine. We kissed. He stroked me, and I lay back to enjoy it.

"I want to travel," Nate said.

I had him on his back, his legs around my waist. We were holding one another, and I was sliding my dick slowly in and out of his warm tightness. The sides of our faces pressed together.

"Hmm?" I asked dreamily.

"One of my dreams," Nate said. "I'd like to travel."

"Where?" I asked. I lifted my head to look down into his eyes, and I moved my erection inside him, pleasurably, circling my hips gently. "Where do you want to travel to?"

"Anywhere," Nate said, wistfully. The fire had long gone out, but we had left lights on in the trailer, and I could see him clearly in their light, and in the moonlight that made it in from the window. "Like I told you earlier, I've barely been out of Austin," he explained. "I forgot about one trip to Astroworld in Houston when I was a kid, but that's about it."

"Then we'll travel," I said. "We'll see mountains and oceans. We'll go to New York and LA."

"Have you been there?" Nate asked.

I nodded. “LA,” I said. I pushed my cock deeper inside Nate; feeling his damp warmth enveloping me, and his tightness slide to the base of my shaft. "I've been to the Rockies, and to LA," I told him. "We did the whole West Coast thing on vacation." I smiled. "Maybe you and I ought to see gay San Francisco."

Nate shook his head. "Only if you're handcuffed to me."

I frowned. "You wouldn't trust me?"

"No, baby," Nate said, smiling. "I wouldn't trust San Francisco."

His head lay on my shoulder. I knew Nate was almost asleep. His breath on my right pec was growing regular. My arm was behind him, and I stroked his back.

"Have you ever thought about kids, Nathan?" I asked softly. "I like kids. I would have liked to have kids." I remembered Dad saying, ‘Someday you'll want children’.

"I like kids," Nate said, just as softly.

"Maybe Stefan or Jessica will have a lot of kids," I said, referring to my brother and little sister. "I wonder if they'll let us be around them."

"I wonder if I'll have nieces and nephews," Nate said. He kissed my skin, near my breastbone. "Do you like pets?"

I nodded, my cheek brushing the top of his head. "Yeah, but pets aren't the same as kids."

I had almost dozed off when Nathan whispered my name softly, his mouth tickling my chest.

"Yes?" I answered.

"It's not like a dream I’ve had, but I have wondered about something else."


"Did you know that doctors can make boys into girls now?"

I frowned. "You are not cutting off anything!" I said out loud.

Nathan was quiet a moment, and I regretted my brusque response. I nuzzled the top of his head and held him closely to me.

"Geez, Nate," I whispered, "I know what it's like to be someone different inside than how people know you. And I know that you and me are different." I hugged him hard. "I will love you, no matter what, but I do love your body, just the way it is. You know how much I love your cock and your balls. I like our differences, just the way they are."

Nate rubbed his palm over my chest. "I wouldn't want you to change either," he admitted. He grew quiet a moment, then stretched up to nuzzle into my neck. "Loren," he whispered, "I don't know why you love me, but I know you love me." He wrapped his arm up the other side of my head and nuzzled under my ear. "I'm happy, Loren. I'm really happy. I don't care what dreams we have. Just don't ever leave me."

I hugged his slender body to my side. "You belong here; right here," I told him. "I'm not going anywhere."

I smelled the coffee, even before Nate set it down beside the bed. His skin was cold as he crawled in beside me. I was on my stomach, and he laid onto my side and back.

"Merry Christmas," he murmured, kissing my cheek.

I cocked an eye open. The room was bright with winter sun. "Merry Christmas," I murmured back. "What time is it?"

"Eleven, you sleepy-head." Nathan hugged my back. "I woke up to the best Christmas present ever; a beautiful, naked boy."

I rolled up onto my side and hugged Nate's belly to mine. "Wanna open some more presents?" I asked.

Nate grinned, grabbed my face with both hands, and kissed me. He had brushed his teeth.

"Let me go brush my teeth," I told him. "I need to piss, too."

"Let's shower," Nate said. "The water's good and hot, and the bathroom's got a regular size tub."

I always piss in the shower. It’s a compulsion I’ve had since I was a kid. Even in the showers at the gym, I always turned away from everyone, but I pissed. Nate knew about my compulsion, and even catered to it. As soon as we were under the showerhead, he faced me and grabbed me by the shoulders.

"Go ahead," he said, grinning. "It's Christmas."

So I pissed him. I pissed his pubes and his cock and balls, and into the creases of his legs. The shower washed it all away, even as I did it, but it was fun. Nate had pissed earlier, when he got up, but had enough to give my pubes a quick wash in return. Then we scrubbed up, cleaning one another.

I built a new fire in the fireplace, while shivering in my pajama bottoms. Then I ran back inside, where it was warmer. Nate was already working in the kitchen, in my pajama tops. I joined him.

Nate was in charge. He'd been planning Christmas dinner for a week, and it took a couple of hours to put together, but the meal was memorable. We ate in the pajama top and bottom, but Nate set an elegant table, with candles. I made a mental note to buy Nate candles the next time I needed a gift for him.

The meal consisted of spinach salad, roasted capon, boiled new potatoes and green beans, golden mushroom dressing, and for dessert, pumpkin pie. I’d never fixed even one dish without a few mistakes. Nate’s were all delicious.

He eagerly watched me taste each dish, as if watching me open a gift, and each time I smiled with pleasure, he grinned happily.

“Your fate,” I said, pointing my dessert fork at him, “is to be a great chef, and my fate is to run track all my life; because I’m going to be your biggest fan, and you’re going to make me fat as hell if I don’t run hours every day.”

Nate laughed, and came around to sit in my lap. “It was good, wasn’t it?”

“It was great, and you know it,” I said, hugging the side of his waist. “Don’t ever tell my mom, but that was the best Christmas dinner I ever had.”

Nate grinned and kissed me.

“Now I’m so stuffed, I need a nap,” I told him.

His eyes rolled. “Me, too. Help me put away the food, and we can make a bed on the rug in front of the fireplace.”

We brought pillows and a blanket to the rug. I added a log to the fire. Nate and I crawled under the blanket, and I unbuttoned the pajama top on Nate so I could wrap my arms around him and feel his bare chest against mine.

He grinned. “Our tummies are pushing a little harder against each other.”

“And whose fault is that?” I asked.

Nate smiled, his head on the pillow beside mine. He pulled the drawstring on the pajama bottoms and I pushed them down and off my legs. Nate shoved a leg between mine and I hugged it between my thighs.

“Is it silly?” he asked, “to want to be a chef?”

I shook my head slightly. “I don’t think it’s silly. I think it’s cool.”

Nate smiled and stroked my hair. “Don’t give into your dad,” he said gently. “If you want to be a biologist, be a biologist.”

I sighed and rolled onto my back. Nate propped on his elbow to look down at me.

“I can’t fight that one out yet,” I said. “Not till he gets used to me being gay.”

Nate rolled onto my side, laying his head on my shoulder. Under the pajama top, my arm was behind his back. I hugged him onto me.

“You’ll be a very good biologist,” Nate said. “You’re smart.”

I kissed the top of his head. “Maybe,” I said. “But I really don’t know what I want to do yet.”

“Sleep,” Nate said. “You want to sleep.”

I smiled, gazing up at the ceiling. “Yeah. For now.”

I woke first, and brought our box of gift wrapped presents over beside the rug. Nate stirred, saw what I was doing, and sat up happily. We sat facing each other, cross-legged and naked.

My first gift to Nate was a thick cookbook with lots of color pictures. It was expensive. I also gave him a magnifying vanity mirror with lights, a small bottle of women's perfume, and of course, underwear... silk boxers. His gifts to me included a fancy deck of cards because I liked card games, a set of men's toiletries, Aramis, and black nylon briefs and matching tank top. Nathan was normally good with money – much better than I was in fact – but along with the pajamas which he gave me the night before, he spent more than I thought he could afford. I started to say something, but he was so damned happy with what he had given me, and so pleased with my response to his gifts, that I said nothing.

We put on clothes and walked down to the lake. The day was bright, but cold with a wind from the north. We ambled along the road and back, working off the meal, simply enjoying being out.

Though we put away the food after we ate, there were still dishes to wash. We stripped to the pajamas again; no briefs. Nate began washing, and I dried. When I got ahead of him, I stood behind him and tickled his ribs. With his hands in the water and holding dishes, he couldn’t dodge well, and it was fun to pester him. He tried tossing back water at me, but I dodged, until finally, he turned and tried tickling my ribs with his wet fingers.

We tickled each other, legs brushing legs, wrestling upright; we both got erections. I unbuttoned his pajama top and ran my hands under it. My tickling became caresses along his sides. Dropping to my knees, and I buried my face between his legs. I licked and sucked.

"Holy shit, Nate!" I murmured. "You serve up a helluva tasty holiday meal."

Nate chuckled, running his fingers through my hair and thrusting his hips at me. I took his cock into my mouth and sucked, bobbing. Nate started making low, guttural noises. He held my head tightly and thrust his cock down my throat.

I pulled off him, and stood. My erection curved up naked from the fly of the pajama bottoms. Nate threw his body at mine, clinging to me, covering my mouth with his. We clutched at each other, rubbing cocks as we stood. Then I turned Nate, bending him over the sink. I pulled the pajama top off his shoulders and ran my palms down his lean sides and over the perfectly smooth globes of his bottom.

There was butter on one of the plates. On an impulse, I shoved my pajama bottoms down and scooped butter onto my fingertips. I rubbed it into his bottom, then over my crown. Grabbing Nate by the hips, I bent my knees, angling up into him. We'd gotten to where we could literally find each other's opening in the dark. I had no trouble using only my hips to position my cock and then drive it upward. I wrapped my arms around him, thrust up, lifting him on his toes. Holding him there, I pumped and ground with my hips.

Nate bumped and ground back, stroking his cock. "Your turn to wash dishes comes next," he muttered.

It may not have been a honeymoon, but I'll always think of it that way. We certainly made love as if it were a honeymoon. We made love Christmas night. We didn't leave the cabin the next morning until after we had thoroughly screwed each other – we didn't need to be at work until one.

Nate left a note for the owners, telling them we had a wonderful time and thanking them for what they did. He added a handwritten recipe for a fruit salad which he said would be good on a hot summer day by the lake. He signed the note, Natasha.

We loaded out, and I took a final stretch before climbing into the Mustang.

Nate grinned at me across the top of the car. “You look damned happy,” he said.

I smiled back. “I am damned happy. And damn I feel good! My body feels good; really good.” I winked. “Screwing like bunnies is great exercise.”

I opened my door and got in. Nate got in his side and strapped on his seat belt.

“I’m going to start calling you Thumper,” he murmured.


“The rabbit in Bambi. You and your screwing like bunnies.”

“I like it!” I exclaimed, laughing. I gave his shoulder a squeeze.” Shall I start calling you Bambi?”

Nate cocked an eyebrow. “You can call me Thumper, too. I did my share of thumping here.”

I leaned my head back against the headrest. “Thumper,” I said, playing with the name. I turned my head to look at him. “Yeah.”

That night, when Nate and I returned home, it really was like returning home... Nate's and my home.

The mood wasn't even spoiled when I called my family that night, to wish them a late Merry Christmas.

"Just fly home," Dad told me. "Don't worry about driving. I made reservations for you on the first flight out Sunday morning."

I found Nate on the couch in the living room when I got off the phone. With a happy whoop, I jumped onto him.

"What happened?" Nate asked.

"Dad told me to fly home; not drive," I said.

Nate studied me, puzzled.

"That means, Thumper" I told him, "that Dad’s given up on trying to get me to transfer to OU next semester. He wouldn't let me keep the Mustang and all my stuff down here if I wasn't coming back."

"You were always coming back anyway," Nate said, giving my butt a squeeze.

I nodded. "You still don't know my dad. I was sure I'd have to fight it out with him." I bit my lip. "I wonder if staying here over Christmas helped decide it."

“What do ya mean?” Nate asked.

"Time's running out for next semester," I explained, "that is, if Dad thought he could talk me into a change." I lay all the way down on Nate and hugged him. "And now he knows better. He knows how serious you and I are."

I expected Stefan to be waiting for me when I landed at the airport in Tulsa. Instead, I found my mom and dad.

“Are you hungry?” Dad asked as I put my bag into the trunk of his car. “Have you eaten lunch yet?”

“They only served a snack on the plane,” I said. “I am sort of hungry.”

Mom had been standing beside me. She gave me another big hug; about the fourth after getting off the plane. “I missed you so much!” she said, squeezing me, and holding on to me.

I glanced at Dad. He was frowning.


I meant it to be funny when I said that even my junk mail seemed to dry up after the vomit chapter, because it struck me that way. Thanks to all of you who thought I was lamenting, and wrote to say the chapter was okay. I still promise, no more up-chucking. ;0

As I've said before, reader emails are the only pay we Nifty writers ask for or receive, and I do like to hear if a chapter was enjoyed or not. :) My email address is jnuanced@gmail.com.