Date: Wed, 7 Feb 2024 13:06:00 -0500 From: Ronald Speener Subject: Chrysalis Part 3 Chapter 4 Chrysalis Part 3-Chapter 4 This story is about a young man's quest to fix a major birth defect--he was born without a penis. On his quest he meets challenges, his soul mate and many other soon to be friends. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and events are the product of the author's imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to any real person is coincidental. The story depicts procedures and practices common for gender reassignment; however, this story does not claim to be a medical treatise, and information is primarily for the purpose of the story and not medical advice. This story is written for adults with adult themes. If you are underage or live in a location where references to gay relationships or transgender people is forbidden, please log out of the story or move. This work is copyrighted by Boethiuscell@gmail.com © 2023 All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information and retrieval system, without the written permission of the copyright owned to the extent permitted by law. Please contribute to Nifty. They do a great job of providing stories that please the senses, titillate the mind, and expand our view of the world. Chapter 4--Stupid Is Tracey, who came to check on Tom's schedule, watched Chris storm through the office lobby and out the front door. He watched as Chris marched up the driveway. Tracey ran after Chris. "Hey bro what did my idiot brother do?" "He showed me his truly ugly side. The very worst of this town. I am calling an Uber. Give my apologies to your parents, but the wedding is off. I cannot marry a man so insensitive and cruel." "I'll drive you Chris." Tracey gently took Chris's elbow and guided him to Tracey's new grape colored Mustang. Chris climbed in slamming the door; Tracey winced. Tracey did not need the A/C from the cool waves emanating from Chris, who stared straight ahead and never spoke as they drove to no destination. As they approached Santa Monica, Chris spoke. "I need a new place to stay. Obviously, I cannot stay with Tom." Tracey said nothing but fine. "My hotel first to get my things, and then we find a hotel." Chris's phone buzzed. He pulled it out of his pocket and looked at the caller. Opening the message, he typed, wording out loud his message. "This number will be blocked." He pounded on the send icon, sighed, and then blocked Tom's number. "Serves the asshole right." Tracey helped Chris gather his things and move them to a nice, not great, hotel on the ocean. "Thanks Tracey," The words were monotone and lifeless. Chris sat on the okay bed, numb. He was such a fool. Tracey sat on the bed next to him and held Chris close and fumed at his brother. Tom was to get an ear full when he got home. Tracey's phone rang, but Tracey did not look at the caller. He was not in any positive frame of mind to answer. After an hour Chris stirred, "I am better Tracey. Thank you for helping me and being a friend." The words were not monotone; just profoundly sad. "You can leave. I will be fine. I am far stronger than the words of Tom Greenwood. I will recover, surmount and grow." Chris's voice, while wavering, was firm and loud. He sighed letting go of his anger and letting go of Tom. He had a career and a life that he liked. He had people who respected him. He did not need Mr. GreenAssWood to tear him down. He was better than that. Chris stood as did Tracey. "Please go, Tracey, I will be fine but I need to be by myself. I need to be independent: I don't need a man to complete me." Tracey stood there watching Chris don armor like a knight readying for battle; he did not like what he saw, the beautiful, sensitive Chris hardening into cement. One tap with a hammer and the statue would crumble. "Please Tracey leave, and don't tell Tom where I am." Tracey headed to the door. Chris watched him go through the reflection in the patio doors. "I'm going to sit on the balcony and enjoy the banter of the ocean." Tracey closed the hotel door behind him. Chris was at his new table in his office reviewing his schedule for the day when Tom casually walked in, "Hey Chris." Chris looked up, "Mr. Greenwood, this is a place of business, so unless you have something to say about work, you can leave." Chris went back to his laptop. Tom stepped back two places like he had been punch, sagged and then stood erect. Two could play this game. "Mr. Wentworth, staff meeting in fifteen minutes." He turned sharply and left the room. Chris took a deep breath, held it until the rolling in his stomach calmed, and returned to his tasks. The staff meeting was an exercise in avoidance. The Mr. Wentworth and the Mr. Greenwood tossed back and forth where pin-pulled grenades. Everyone was ducking to avoid the shrapnel. Helga asked Chris to stay after the meeting to discuss his transfer to L.A.. Before Helga could question Chris about the tense between him and Tom, Chris spoke. "I've decided not to take the position in L.A.. I have a life and friends in New York. I have no one here. I am sure Tom will want to stay and take my place." "I am sorry to hear that Chris, and I respect your decision, but can you tell me why?" "Tom and I had a very frank discussion last night about how shallow Hollywood is, how social standing was so important for success, how I need schmooze and kiss ass. That is not me, despite what some might say. I am struggling to be who I want to be; I don't need assholes putting me down." Helga drummed her fingers on the table. "That asshole might be Tom?" "Twenty-foot billboard asshole." "I am sorry Chris. I do not know what transpired between you. It is none of my business, but the interplay between you and Tom is destructive to Dreamweavers. That we cannot have, particularly here with the new start up." "I'm sorry," Chris said, head down, then he chuckled. "Sure, put Tom off his game to think he could just charm me back into his arms." "In a perverse way it was enjoyable to see Tom squirm, but it is not healthy. If this hostility persists, one of you needs to be cut loose. Between you and Tom, you would be the one I keep." Chris looked stunned. "Tom has been with the company longer. I can give my resignation to you today." Helga frowned at Chris. "I would not accept it. In the few months you have been with Dreamweavers, you have made a significant contribution to the company's financial success, you have effectively and positively put our brand in the public eye, you are a team player who inspires others to play well together. Tom is just a model; a man with a pretty face and a good body. These are commodities that are easily replaceable." "Nice try old woman." Chris looked at Helga with a half-smile. "You are going to make the same spiel to Tom, make us feel guilty. Not going to work. Tom would not be here assisting if he was just another cloth hanger." Helga looked at Chris, at first stunned but then chortled. "Damn Chris, you are too sharp. But I am serious about the rift between the two of you. I will not destroy Dreamweavers, even if I need to fire both of you." Helga's whole body spoke the truth. All the barriers Chris had erected, all the armor he wore dissolved in tears. "He called me a hypocrite. That my dressing like a man was a hypocrisy because under the clothes I was still a woman. It is not my clothes that is the hypocrisy, it is my body. My body lies to me every day when I look in the mirror. It lies, and there is nothing I can do about it. It has lied to me for almost 20 years. The only solace is that I am trying to kill the lie. How I dress is how my soul feels. It is truer to me than my skin. And to not understand that and to denigrate who I am is not love." Helga pulled a frilly handkerchief out of the bosom of her blouse and handed it to Chris. "Yes, Chris, that is a great betrayal. But do you love Tom?" "Yes," Chris weakly said. "I know it makes no sense, but I still do. But I am not sure that he loves me." "I was married, once." Helga spoke softly, afraid of what she would say. "We were married eight years. During a trip to Los Vegas, he picked up gonorrhea from a hooker. I felt betrayed; I was betrayed. I could not forgive him. He tried to make amends but I would not listen. Then he threw accusations that it was my fault because I worked too much, didn't have time for him, didn't appreciate him. Part of that was true. The more we threw at each other, the stronger our walls rose in defense. We divorced, it was toxic and acrimonious. And I lost the only man I ever loved, and he the only woman he loved. I am not saying that what happened between you and Tom is the same. What I am saying is don't build defensive walls that love cannot breach." "What happened to him, is it too late for you?" "He died a few years ago from cancer, divorced for the third time. He asked to see me, but I refused. He died alone." Chris said nothing when he moved to sit beside her and hold her. Chris texted Tom. "You hurt me deeply. I want to forgive you but don't know how. Do you?" Chris spent the rest of the day working with Natalie, who tiptoed around a prickly Chris. He did not see or hear from Tom that day. The next day Chris found his leather pants and vest on his desk. The note read. "Please put these on. Your slave." Chris ran his fingers over the supple leather, hesitated and then changed. He found the matching boots sitting by the door. Chris received a text message about the staff meeting in 15 just as Natalie walked into his office. "Hot damn Chris, you are gonna make me cream my panties. You do pull off the bad boy well. This will be so hot in the video." Chris glanced in one of the mirrors he had added to the room to increase the light. He felt more confident. "I came to escort you to the meeting. After yesterday I was not sure you would come in today. We have much to discuss and more to do." She firmly took his arm. "I know of a club that I would like to take you to." Chris, for some reason agreed. Walking into the conference room, Chris greeted Blaise LeBec, the new CFO, who started that day. He was a bear of a man at 6' 4", 240 pounds, and a pompom of facial hair. At 45 he was still in good shape; his weight was all muscle. Sitting next to him on the table was a motorcycle helmet. When Chris shook his hand, it was like the last peanut in a bowl. Chris glanced at everyone, each with an expectant look on their face. He would be on good behavior. He looked around for Tom; he was not at the table. But at the end of the table, shirtless, Tom stood; his arms raised above his head by chains to a hook in the ceiling. "Tom has something to say to you." Helga said with a small smirk on her flawlessly made-up face. Natalie motioned Chris toward Tom. "Chris, what I said to you yesterday was beyond cruel. It was even worse because you are the person I love. I heard what you told Helga this morning--she taped it. I do not deserve your love. I do not deserve your respect. I do not deserve to be your friend. The only way I can make a little amends is for you to punish me. Once you are done, I will leave for New York and then London to be with my Granddad until the Europe fashion shows." Chris looked at Tom, his chest smooth with a slight haze of sweat, and immediately wanted to forgive him. But the anger and humiliation would not allow it. "Do you think, Mr. Greenwood, that a demonstration of BDSM equals the pain you caused me. I loved you, and you ripped my heart out and ate it with glee. I thought you of all people would know because you saw me that first night, underfeed, cold, and frightened. You gave me hope and confidence that despite the hell my parents put me through, you were a better person. You are not. I understand that my parents' response came out of fear and guilt, and a misguided need to love me. Yours came out of petty insensitivity." Tom slumped in the chains lost in remorse. "Show me what implements of repentance are offered." Natalie showed Chris a cane, a short whip, and a scourging whip. Chris picked up each, carefully inspecting them, until he chose the scourging whip. He flicked it into the air causing Tom to flinch. "Mr. Greenwood." Chris moved up to Tom's body, faces inches apart. He wrapped the whip around Tom's neck, holding both ends. "You do deserve a good thrashing, as my grandmother used to say, but I am not a violent man, nor do I believe in revenge." Chris turned and walked away, sitting next to Helga, who grabbed his hand and held pride in her eyes. "Release him." Natalie easily unchained Tom. "Tom, if you want to truly make amends, wait for me in my office." Tom quietly left the room. "Fuck, I am going to like working here," Blaise said. "goina fucking like it a lot." Conversation resumed to normal around the table. "Nat?" Chris caught Natalie's attention. "Where did you find the chains and whips." "There're mine." An evil grin split her face. "No, that is not totally true. Some are Linc's. Like I said earlier we need to take you to Lair D'Sade." Chris could only shake his head in disbelief. He nodded at Helga to start the meeting. After the meeting and everybody left the room, Chris stayed uncertain on what to do about Tom. What Tom said eviscerated him, but he still loved Tom. He needed to forgive him, but Tom needed to learn. Chris found the number for the local LGBTQ and spoke to someone who managed transgender programs and services and made an appointment for Saturday morning. Satisfied, he went to find Helga and tell her his plan. Chris found Tom sitting in a chair, his shirt still in his hands, and looking like his dog just died. Chris coughed as he entered the room. Tom looked up, smiled happy to see Chris, then dropped his head. "Mr. Greenwood. I appreciate your attempt to make amends, but if you truly knew me, you would know I do not do gratuitous violence, especially as punishment. It is this lack of understanding me that has put our relationship in jeopardy." Tom's head popped up slightly because Chris did not say end. Chris sat on the love seat, his knees almost touching Tom. "Look at me." Tom did. Chris winced at how red Tom's eyes were from crying. "I am willing to forgive you, but you must earn my forgiveness." Tom fell to his knees, clasping Chris's legs like they were the last spar of a sinking boat. "Anything Chris, anything." Chris wanted to pull Tom up off the floor and into his arms, but Tom needed to learn. "You will be placed on a two-week probation and must do community service." Tom nodded his head fervently. "I have already cleared this with Helga, and she agrees that it is appropriate. This Saturday we have a meeting with Tzania Funck. She is the program coordinator for transgender services at the L.A. LGBTQ Center. After the meeting you will volunteer to help her for 15 hours each week. Again, Helga is fully on board and will allow the time. Do you agree?" "Yes, yes of course anything. Anything Chris. When you walked out on me and I thought I lost you, I was a wreck. You are the love of my life, but I still saw you as a woman. I know it does not make sense, because you hit all my bells and whistles as a man. But, I don't know how to explain, but it's schizophrenic." Chris genuinely smiled at Tom, which gave him hope. "Tom, welcome to my world. I am like two people. There is my body and then there is my person. I still struggle with it, which is why what you said hurt so much. I need you to affirm that I am a man in love with a man who is in love with me; a man, and not with the body I have now. There are so many days that I feel like a fraud and am ready to crack. I need you to hold me back from the edge before I jump. Please." Tom moved quickly to sit beside Chris. "I will be your strength when you need it, but I will also push you to be yourself. While you are one phenomenally gorgeous looking man, what I am in love with is your mind, your soul, your kindness, your humor, your snarky attitude, your courage, your ability to forgive, your..." "You can stop now Tom." They had one of the most intense kisses ever. "Does that mean you will come back to the hotel?" Tom said that like one might be offering him a puppy. "No, you are on probation. I will stay this week in the hotel I'm renting until Sunday when I need to fly to New York for a week, then back here for a day before flying to Dubai, New York and Chicago before I am back in L.A. in two weeks." "Four weeks without you, this week and the three weeks you are gone. You are very cruel, sir." "That is a long time." Chris looked into Tom's eyes and melted. "I cannot go three weeks either. You still need to do the community service, but we will spend this week together." "I hate thinking of three weeks without you, but of that we have no control. I will need to love you this week enough to tide me over until we meet again." Chris snuggled into Tom for a few minutes. "We have work to do." Chris pushed off of Tom and called Mrs. Powell. Her secretary answered and said the dinner was small, about 20 people, and it was formal. "I need something new and exciting." Chris called Ted of Tuxed-In. He had Chris's measurements and could do a fitting next week when Chris was in New York. "And you Tom will wear boring black." Tom did not think so, but said nothing. Tom and Chris stayed at the hotel on the beach that Chris rented. It was not as luxurious as the boutique hotel, but it was on the water, which made Chris happy. "Chris happy" was Tom's mantra. And the sound of the ocean was soothing after the late and frantic days. Chris was finishing up his notes from an interview of a young man who needed an agent as an actor. The guy was nervous but showed raw talent. They would offer him a contact. It was a great way to end a Friday. "Sir," Lydia's voice came over the intercom. "You have a Mr. Ivanovic to see you. He is a real estate agent. Would you like to meet him?" Chris was not expecting any realtors, but maybe Anda arranged a meeting. She was still pissed at Tom, but on a high the Chris would still marry the idiot. She was constantly talking about homes. "Sure, I'll be up in a little, after I clean my desk of the scrumptious cookies you made." Lydia was becoming the mother in the office, while remaining professional and protective. Mr. Ivanovic was a man in his 30s, in a very expensive suit, carrying a Louis Vuitton valise. "Mr. Wentworth," he said as he rose to shake hands, "I appreciate your seeing me without an appointment." His handshake was firm but formal. "It is my understanding that you are looking for a home in the L.A. area. If it is convenient, I would like to discuss your needs so that I can better assist you." Chris was not sure who this man was and if he were reputable, but the discussion would help as he and Tom needed to start looking. "Lydia," could you have Tom meet us in my office. Thanks." Chris led Mr. Ivanovic back to the office. In the office, Chris motioned the stranger to sit on the love seat while Chris took the chair. Mr. Ivanovic handed Chris a card. "Please call me Petre," he said with a warmer smile. "I do appreciate your time and finding property in L.A. is tricky." "Your timing is good because I leave for New York and then will be traveling for several weeks." Petre nodded as if that were expected. Tom entered and was introduced as Chris's fiancé. Petre congratulated them as if it were a normal occurrence. "Tom, Petre is a real estate agent. I think your mother wants to rush this along." "No Chris, may I call you Chris, I am here at a request out of Chicago. Your bank contacted me on behalf of your proxy in Chicago to make arrangements for a cash purchase up to ten million." Chris rolled his eyes at Tom. "My benefactor knows more about what I am doing than I do." "For that amount you can find a nice house. Home costs are higher here than most other places in the States." Petre took out his tablet from his valise. "Let's start with bedroom and bathrooms." "Two will be sufficient." Petre winced. "Two was fine for your place in New York, but you need at least four. I think five. We will be having far more house guests: Cedrick and Ariel, your family, our friends from New York, my relatives from England, once they meet you." "Could I suggest a separate guest house?" Petre grinned. "Keeps the in-laws from being under foot." "Fine, a guest house and three bedrooms in the main house." "What about when we have children? You know that my parents have a large home, but only three bedrooms for four children." "Fine, five bedrooms, a guest house and I want eight bathrooms. One for each bedroom and one for the office, one for the pool. We will have a pool and hot tub." "That will put you at the top of your price range." Petre pointed out. "No guest house, but I would like land. I do not want a subdivision." "You are right Chris, but we need space that we can entertain, both dinner and cocktails parties. You will find L.A. far more social than New York." "I would like to be close to your parents, our parents." Chris looked at Petre. "They live in Malibu." Petre's eyebrow flickered at the magic name. Chris noticed and decided to play Petre. "Maybe Helena Powell will have a few suggestions. We can ask her when we see her for dinner." Petre's posture stiffened like he had just sprung a boner. Name dropping was fun Chris decided. "I can also ask Derrek Lovejoy when I am in New York next week." "You know Derrek Lovejoy, the realtor?" "Yes, he sold me the place I currently own. He and his boyfriend are friends." "I have been trying to partner with him for clients who are like you, needing a place in both cities. Could you arrange a teleconference between the three of us?" "I do not impose on my friends for business deals. I will mention your offer, and if he wants to contact you, he can. My positive feedback will depend upon how well you handle our needs." Petre's demeanor changed from officious to unctuous. "There is a place that I just picked up yesterday. I have not visited it yet, but this might be what you want. It is on over four acres, five bedrooms, only five baths, guesthouse, pool and spa, out buildings, and all recently updated. It is in Calabasas." Chris looked at Tom for input. "That is halfway between here and my parents but more east in the mountains. It would be a nice location if it is on so much property. It deserves a look." "Can I show you tomorrow?" "We have a commitment tomorrow morning, but our afternoon is free," Chris said looking at Tom for agreement. "2:30 good?" Tom asked. It was agreed upon that Petre would pick them up at Tom's parents. Chris knew Anda would want to inspect the place. Tzania Funks, although she preferred to be called Funky, was a tall, over 6 feet, African American woman with legs like a trucks. She greeted Chris and Tom, carefully evaluating Chris. "How far along are you, because you still look very male." The comment tickled Chris because although the identification was wrong the effect was right. "I just started testosterone this past week." Funky's mouth dropped. "I'm transitioning from female to male." "I am so sorry. I should know by now to not presume." "I found your error most gratifying. You know how it is when people misidentify. If you think I am male. Then I am very happy." "What can I do for you two?" "My fiancé said some very stupid, insensitive, bonehead things to me. To earn my total forgiveness, I have demanded that he do two weeks of community services for you and the transgender community. The more he knows the better he will help me transition." Funky gave Tom the evil eye. "You are one lucky dude, Tom. My last boyfriend, when he complained that I was taking too long to tuck my cock in, got kicked in the balls." Her foot did a small kick. "He had ice on his nads for three days." "I feel that way now without the kick. I was a total jerk, and Chris ripped my heart out when he threatened to leave me. I do love him. He is my breath." "Sweet, but still didn't stop you from hurting the man you love." Funky sat with her hands across her chest, evaluating Tom. "No, it did not. I will do anything to win his respect back." "Good. I like you Tom. You are honest. We all make horrendous mistakes, but you have the courage to face them and be better." She uncrossed her arms. "What are you good at?" Without hesitation Tom answered, "Standing still." Chris chuckled; Funky looked at both of them as if they were crazy. "Chris and I are models, so we stand still in awkward positions for hours." Funky was not impressed. L.A. is full of models. "You move to L.A. to make it big?" Chris snickered at that. "No, we are both well established in New York. Our Agency, Dreamweavers, just bought Rising Star. We are here, well Tom is here to help with the transition; I'm here to do a music video. However, our bosses asked us to relocate here. We do not need to live where we work. We just need a major airport close by." "You said your name is Chris?" Odd repeat question but Chris said yes. Funky pulled out her phone and called. "Hey, Bitch get your fucking ass in here pronto." Chris could hear the good-natured cursing on the other end. Two minutes later a young man of about 17 or 18, still in puberty with a light case of acne, saunter in wearing fashionably ripped skinny jeans and T-shirt that said "MEN SUCK...HARDER". "Hey Eli, wanted you to meet Tom and Chris. Tom is going to volunteer for us for a few weeks and penance for being an asshole." Eli, head down, wiped his hands on his jeans, unsure why he was introduced to these two men. He stuck out his hand to Tom. Fumbling to say hi as he looked at the handsome sexy man. "Hi Eli, nice to meet you." Chris took Eli's arm, pulled him forward into a hug. Eli looked up and fainted. "Never had anyone faint on me before." Chris cradled the non-responsive kid against his chest, managing to grab him while he sank to the floor. Within seconds Eli was alert and staring doe eyed into Chris's robin blue eyes. He shuddered and scooted away on his rump from Chris like he was electricity. "Oh fuck, fuck, fuck." he refused to look anywhere but at his sneakers. "I am such a fucking idiot. What do I do but faint, like a lily assed pansy fag." He chuckled to himself. "But then I am a lily assed pansy fag." He looked up at Funky, who was amused, then Tom who was befuddled, and then Chris, who was sympathetic. "It was just a shock to see you Chris. I mean fuck, dude, you are supposed to be in New York. Not here, not shaking my hand. I mean, fuck, fuck, I mean I have seen the videos of you at Jazzabel's and you were, are amazing, I mean, fuck, you are so cool. Fuck, I don't mean as in cold, but as in control." Chris put a hand on Eli's knee. "It is an honor to meet you Eli. I was where you were--living on the streets. It takes real courage to survive and not descend into despair." Eli looked at Chris in stunned awe. "You really lived on the streets?" "Yes, for over three years after my parents kicked me out of the house because I'm transgender." Eli hugged Chris. "This floor is hard on my ass. Let's move to fucking chairs." Chris stood and helped Eli stand too. Everything returned to normal, and Tom's penance was discussed. He would help solicit donations for the Halloween fundraiser. He was secretly pleased that he was not cleaning toilets. As they were winding up Chris looked at Eli. "Are you in school?" "Yes my senior year, then I want to go into web and media design." "He is very good at it." Funky interjected. Several small businesses have used him and are very happy." "I need to leave for New York tomorrow. Are you free next Friday morning for a job interview?" Chris looked at Tom for approval, Tom nodded fine. "Really a real job interview. I'll be there." Tom handed both Funcky and Eli business cards as he and Chris left. The outing to see the home involved two cars. Petre in his Audi with Chris, Tom and Anda. Followed by Quent, Linc and Nat in the SUV. They headed toward Malibu, and then turned right into the mountains. After many turns, which confused Chris as to what direction; except for the position of the sun, he would not have known that they proceeded mostly south and then east. They passed through residential areas, which concerned Chris because he did not want to live in a subdivision. But then they turned on to a wooded street. "This is the driveway to your property." Petre said as he slowed down. "The house and outbuildings sit on about 4.5 acres, mostly wooded" He allowed Chris to watch the side of the road. He was now excited. "The house conforms to the slope of the land. Rooms have steps between them. The main entrance on the first level with two bedrooms above it, down four steps is the formal dining, and down another four steps is the eat in kitchen, master bedroom, guest rooms and family room. The guest house is off to the right and has two units with two bedrooms, full kitchen, living and dining areas. You could use it for housing for caretakers since you both travel extensively." That was not a thought Chris had considered, but it might be smart. They pulled into a courtyard much like Tom's parents. Chris dug himself out of the car. The outside had a three car garage next to the main entrance of tan stucco with the dark brown accents. He turned around and saw, on the other side of the courtyard a garden with a large fountain. It would be perfect for roses. "Holy shit, Chris, this place is nice." Tracy was bouncing on the balls of his heels in excitement. You would have thought he was buying the house. Chris squeezed Tom's hand. "Let me show you the insides. Of course, you can remodel or redecorate as you want, although it was remodeled recently." Petre unlocked the door to let everyone in. The entry way was similar to Tom's parents with an entry way the lead up three steps to a formal living room with a fireplace. "The house has three fireplaces inside and a two outside, one a wood burning open oven." Petre, who had not seen the place before, was neutral in his tone, although privately he thought the place was a gem. Chris, however, could not contain his delight as he looked out the two large windows flanking an impressive patio door, which opened to a wooded patio. "We'll explore the patio later." Chris fingered the piano that took up a small portion of the room. This could be home. Petre continued on through a formal dining room that could easily seat sixteen to the kitchen, which was state of the art. The only odd aspect of this part of the house was the short flight of stairs for each level. But the windows overlooking the woods more than compensated. Chris, hugged himself closer to Tom, holding Tom's arm next to him. Tom could feel Chris's excitement thrumming through him. Tom and Chris remained neutral in comments, asking questions while Anda checked corners, ceiling and outlets. She said that one can never have too many outlets. Down four steps from the kitchen was the master bedroom, which had a separate seating area, and again massive windows overlooking the woods. The family room was between the master bedroom and almost as large as Chris's living area in New York, and the remaining two bedroom. "The house has slightly over 6,000 sq ft of living space, 5 bedrooms, two of bedrooms are on the upper level. The upper bedrooms share a bath. Off the family room is a pool. It is a small pool but fully functional with a spa." Petre opened the door to the pool area. Up steps to the right was the patio with a grill, outdoor oven was part of a large paved area. "This patio connects to the kitchen." Petre said to orient the group as he led them up more steps to a large patio outside the living room. "There is an out building, which could be used as a stable and the guest house. If you will follow me." The guest house was nicely finished and comfortable. The out building needed work but would make a good office. Petre guided everyone back toward the living room but veered down a path to French doors and a small patio. Inside was a large room that looked like and office/gym. "Oh, I forgot to mention that there is a small spring and stream on the property. There is a path, but it is mostly left to nature." Chris's eyes caught Tom's. "They are asking slightly less than 5 mil, which is below your budget Chris, so you would have plenty left over for remodeling. Since the property is over four acres, you could also sell a couple of acres and still have a great property." Petre looked at the stone face of Chris and Tom. "We'll take it." Chris said. Petre took a surprised breath. "Don't you want to discuss it with your fiancé or your family first?" "No, Chris is right. We want this place. It is perfect for us. We will offer 4.5 and see what the seller says. Can we close within 14 days?" "The sale is also contingent on the piano staying." Chris added and then kissed Tom. "To our new home." "I will write up the papers. And congratulations on a new house." Petre shook Tom and Chris's hands. "Will you be available, Chris, next week to sign papers?" "Depends on what day, I will be in New York tomorrow and back for the next weekend before I fly to Dubai on Monday." Chris added the last to wipe any trace of snobbery from Petre. "Tom has full power of attorney to negotiate and sign. Of course, you will be contacting my bank to arrange the transfer of funds once the sale is complete." "The sale is also contingent on a home inspection and geological report." "Of course, I will write these into the offer and let you know, Tom, next week." At dinner at a family restaurant in Malibu, the family celebrated the new home. It was the first time in many years that Chris felt he was part of a family. True, his friends in New York were family, but they were also friends with shared interests. With Tom's family, they did not share interest; they shared love and respect, even when they goaded each other. For this the move was worth it. He was part of the teasing, the banter, and the love. Chris smiled at Tom, so forgiven just because of his family. New York was busy with work 10 to 12 hours a day. His place when he got home was full of friends checking on him, but the bed was cold and empty. When he crawled into bed, exhausted, it reminded him of a movie set on the moors of Scotland--windblown and baren. He missed Tom, even though they talked twice a day. All Chris's friends were supportive of his move to L.A., particularly when he said he was keeping the place here and would be back frequently. When he had time alone he wandered the place marking what he wanted to take with him. Little yellow tags dotted the condo like lost confetti. He talked to his security company that managed Beach and the household about moving the equipment. They said they could install duplicates there with the same software. Chris's conversation with Beach about moving to California, was most entertaining. Beach impeccably mimicked a Valley Girl. Tom called Wednesday to say that they could close on the house Friday morning. Chris changed his flight to a red eye Thursday night arriving at midnight. Chris was ready for home.