This is a work of pure fiction, but based on the author's feelings, beliefs, and in some cases, experience. Come to think of it -- it might not be all that pure! There may be graphic sexual encounters at times between men, so if this offends you, you are invited to retreat. If you are too young or it is otherwise illegal for you to be reading this kind if story, shame on you for reading it - - please stop here. If not, - - ENJOY!
Cast of characters:
Brian Weber -- That's me! Deena -- my wife Ronny -- my son. Chris Willows -- kid in bathroom. Mike Riggs -- new friend. Chanelle LeBelle -- Ronny's girlfriend. Gary Foosdorf -- Mike's friend Dmitri Polchek-- Neighbor Ericka -- Dmitri's wife Alexandra -- Dmitri's daughter Muhammad Zarindast -- Friend Stan -- Muhammad's Afghan hound. Kohfi -- 30 year old Persian Freedom Contender Mick Azerov -- 26 year old American Freedom Contender Ammad -- 45 year old Iraqi Freedom Contender Keyvan & Sohrab -- Iranian boys.
From Chapter 11:
"Your brother is in the house with a very swollen and sore mouth!" I said to Sohrab. "I will see you at dinner -- after you clean this up and also yourself -- for dinner." It came out more sternly than I meant.
I walked away, and as I reached the opening of the stable, I turned around. He was headed in the opposite direction to bring Hero in. "Sohrab?"
He turned around, his face toward the floor. "Sohrab," I tried to be as gentle as possible, because it was obvious he had tears in his eyes. "I want you to know that I am not angry with you. But I cannot have my two new sons getting so physical with each other -- in any way."
I hoped he knew what I was saying. I also hope that I can get to the bottom of what really happened.
Chapter 12
Gary stayed that night. Ronny was out, and we conspired to make love quietly, as Keyvan and Sohrab played a video game in Ronny's room. Even the idea of sneaking in a quick fuck was alluring to both of us. We felt like a couple of little kids that were getting away with something. Just as he was about to explode up inside me, we heard a ruckus in the other room. There was a muffled argument -- in Farsi -- but it was definitely heated.
"NO! STOP!" We heard in English.
We both jumped up and ran to our door. I stopped Gary. "I better take care of this alone -- okay?"
I pulled on my shorts and went to their room, and the door was locked. I used the pass key to open it and found them on the bed, Sohrab underneath Keyvan, who was trying to -- rape him.
"KEYVAN!!" I shouted. He looked at me with rage. "GET OUT!" I pointed at the door.
Both boys had shorts on so it was a small thing to pull them up and leave the room. Which he did. As he went by me I threatened, "Wait for me in the living room!" Then I hollered, "Gary! Go to the living room with Keyvan!"
I waited for Gary to join Keyvan. I didn't need another boy to bolt again - especially in the middle of the night.
I went and sat on Sohrab's bed.
He too had pulled his shorts up and was now sitting on the bed, hugging his knees, his head buried behind them.
I touched Sohrab's shoulder. He flinched -- away from me. "Sohrab -- are you -- okay?" He shrugged. Tell me what happened." He shrugged again and shook his head.
"Don't worry about it." He said.
"Sorry, Dude!" I said. "It's gone too far for that. Is this what happened earlier in the stable?" He didn't answer. "I'll take that for a yes. Sohrab, do you want me to tell Muhammad that your brother has to go live with someone else?"
"NO!" He exclaimed. "It's no - - that - - bad."
I looked at his face - his sad face. "Sohrab -- it IS that bad. I cannot -- WILL not -- allow this to continue in my home. Wait here."
I went to the living room, where Keyvan sat similarly with his head between his knees, and Gary looked rather bewildered. "I want both of you to come to Ron's bedroom." Was all I said. I reasoned within me that the scene of the crime was the best place to talk.
When we got back, Sohrab was lying on the still messed up bed, facing the wall.
"First of all," I started, "Both of you put a shirt on." I did this for both my own as well as Gary's benefit. These boys worked hard and had the physiques of men half again their age. I didn't need that temptation to color my conversation with them. "Gary -- will you go get a couple shirts for us, please?"
As soon as Gary got back, and I put on my tee shirt, I said, "Boys -- and I call you that because you both are still boys -- I want to be as plain as I can be on this one point: There will be no more of that kind of activity in this house -- at all. I can see that it is not welcomed by Sohrab, and Keyvan -- I am not blaming you -- either. You have both grown up in a house where this is the expected and accepted behavior. Do you both understand what I just said?"
They both looked down and didn't move. I let the question hang for a very uncomfortable length of time. Then -- first Keyvan and then Sohrab -- nodded their heads ever so slightly.
"Keyvan -- you tell me when I have said something that is not true. Your father used you -- for sex -- because for whatever reason -- maybe he was not satisfied with what he could get from your mother." I paused for this to sink in. Sohrab raised his head and was looking at Keyvan for any sign of denial.
"Then when you got older, your brother started to look good to your father -- when you started to be more mature and more manly, he hoped to find more softness in the arms of Sohrab. Is that what happened?"
Again I waited for a long moment before Keyvan looked at me and nodded. If he were to speak, I'm sure he would have lost it. "Did your father go to your brother's bed? Sohrab? Did he also take you in your bed?"
"Sohrab whispered, "Yes."
"I'm not bringing this all up to make you hate your father. I think you should forgive him and be happy that you are not in that situation. I can assure you -- because I am old enough to know -- this started long before your father. He did it because it was done to him. The point I am making is that you both have grown up around and see this kind of activity as normal. It is NOT normal -- either in Persia -- or in America. But it goes on in both places. But fathers with boys is more apt to happen in Persia, because men there don't want to disgrace their family by offering anything but a virgin -- of their daughters.
"Here -- men of that ilk think nothing of raping their own daughters. In Persia -- and Arabia - it is more their son's they do it too -- those who are of that mind -- because a man had complete autonomy over his family there. Only his family reputation and -- his greed -- keep him from raping his daughter.
"It is not that way here. None of this should happen -- anywhere. It is NOT normal to rape -- or expect sexual favor from your son, brother, daughter, nephew -- anyone -- just because you have some supposed authority over them.
"Keyvan, if you ever touch Sohrab -- ever again -- EVER -- I will send you back to Muhammad. Not both of you, Keyvan -- only you. Muhammad already knows there is a problem, and I hope I don't have to tell him any more detail. Can you live with this?"
The boys looked from one another to me -- or at least my feet -- then to Gary and back to me -- then at each other. They studied one another's eyes and expression for a long moment. Then as if by an unexpressed agreement, they looked at me and nodded.
"Now -- to further understand what is going on, what has changed -- in your relationship with each other?"
"I have fond someone else." Said Sohrab almost gravely.
"He says he is not gay any more." Said Keyvan, bitterly.
"Boys, you both are aware that Gary and I am gay." I said. The next question, even though I had never discussed it with Gary, I felt confident in his answer. "Gary, let me ask you something." He nodded. "Did you choose to be gay?"
"No."
"Do you wish you weren't?" I asked.
"What kind of question is that? If I wasn't gay -- I wouldn't have you!" He said.
"That isn't an answer to my question. Let me put it another way -- if you had been able to choose -- would you have chosen to be gay?"
"Hell no! Who would?"
"My point exactly. It's easier to be straight. Like you, I would be hard pressed to say I'd rather be straight now -- now that I have you in my life -- I'll choose - - you! But if I had a choice -- earlier in my life -- I'd have chosen straight. Sohrab -- your brother didn't choose to be gay. Maybe what your father did to him -- in some ways -- pushed him in that direction -- we'll never know for sure. Plenty of boys who are molested by their dads don't turn out gay. No one can say for sure what made us gay. But the fact is -- we seem to be gay. And by the way -- my dad never touched me."
"But - " said Keyvan, "But -- Sohrab WAS gay - - also! Why did he change?" Keyvan's bitterness was softening to sadness -- as his eyes filled with tears.
"Keyvan, boys mature at many different rates. Most boys go through a stage where they hate girls and want to play and experiment with other boys. But most seem to grow out of that as they mature. It seems your brother has done this."
"But -- but - " then Keyvan looked at Sohrab and, tears in his eyes, said something in Farsi.
Sohrab teared up too. "I love you too, brother -- as a brother. I always will. I g-guess I love our father too -- but not like I love you. Can you -- can you -- love me -- as a brother?"
Again, Keyvan spoke in Farsi -- softly. He looked at me and said, "Sorry, I'm not so good with English -- sometimes."
"He asked me how I could even ask him -- if he will love me -- as a brother." Said Sohrab.
Sohrab went to his brother and invited him into a hug. Keyvan -- being very careful not to overdo the hug -- kept himself away -- like almost an a-frame hug. Sohrab looked at me -- for reinforcement I guess -- as he slowly wrapped his arm around and down so that his hand was on his brothers butt. He pulled him in close, and whispered something to Keyvan in Farsi.
Both brothers let out a very relieved sigh and lay their head on each other's shoulders.
We all went to bed. I still had Keyvan sleep with Gary and me. Gary and I never got off that night -- but -- such is being a parent! As Keyvan fell asleep, he was breathing slowly and deeply, and snuggled himself around me. I in turn held Gary close, nose to nose, but we didn't immediately go to sleep.
"I don't know how you do it." He whispered. "You're amazing."
"Do what? " I asked.
"What you did -- with the boys. That was amazing."
"Don't forget -- I have been a father for 18 years."
"But I think you do it better than most." He praised.
"I have made it my priority. I'm sorry that just when you thought you had found someone that could concentrate only on you -- I now have taken on two more sons. Is that going to be okay -- with you?"
"I told you I thought you were amazing. Don't dilute it by changing the subject! And for your information, I love being a dad with you. You are teaching me so much!"
"Gary -- in today's world -- men and women -- dads and mothers -- seem to be more attracted to money and success than to raising their children. It was sometimes a struggle -- even with only one child -- but Deena stayed home to raise him. And - I gave up many opportunities for outside entertainment -- junior chamber of commerce, bowling leagues -- and even promotions -- at work -- because I felt my place was with my family -- with my son!"
"Good choice!" Said my lover, turning his back to me and backing into my body. We both giggled softly as he squeezed me hardening meat -- and I, his. "Maybe tomorrow night." He said, and he snuggled even closer and took a deep breath and seemed to be instantly asleep.
As I myself drifted off I thought about how lucky I was. I had a wonderful wife -- for eleven years -- and then a wonderful relationship with my boy -- the next 8, and now I am on a totally different adventure -- with my sweet Gary and -- two challenging wards.
I woke up laughing. I don't know what I was dreaming, but when I came to enough to realize what was happening, we had all turned around, with Gary slowly and mechanically humping the crack at the top of my bum, and Keyvan was sucking on my index and middle fingers.
Not remembering that Keyvan was still on my other side, Gary said, "You like that, Huh?" and started to thrust with more intent. His arm was around me - - AND Keyvan as he tried to pull me closer, and also pulled Keyvan hard into my morning wood.
"What the - " said Gary as his hand strayed lower on what he thought was my chest and abs and I grabbed it before it made it to it's intended target.
"That's Keyvan!" I whispered.
"Ah!" He replied, yanking his hand away.
My hand was still resting on the side of Keyvan's hip. Keyvan grabbed it and put it on his tummy. "It's okay, Papa, I liked it!" He said, thinking it was I who was stroking his upper torso.
"It's not your Papa, Keyvan -- it's Brian."
"You ARE my papa. I would never mistake you for my father. He just used me and then went back to Mother. Please don't stop feeling my tummy. It feels good, too."
I guess he was referring to my hardness at his back also feeling good. I moved away. Keyvan turned around, facing me -- with a pout on his lips. For a moment I didn't see him as a ward -- or a son, but as a Persian and I marveled how beautiful these people are. As I thought about it, Keyvan kissed me -- on the lips. I suddenly snapped out of my half awake stupor and didn't give him back any of the passion he was trying to give to me. "Keyvan -- no." I said gently. "We don't do that in this house."
"Persians are not the only men that love their sons." He pouted.
"You are right about that, Keyvan. Too many Americans men abuse their children too -- but it is not right -- here or there. You were raised to believe that it is normal to have sexual times with your father and -- brother. This is NOT normal, and even if I wanted it, it would be illegal and could put me in prison -- and -- it is not acceptable -- even with brothers -- if one of them does not agree with it."
His lower teeth came out as he increased his pout. He turned his back on me again. "What am I to do? You don't want me, my brother doesn't want me, and my father is not here."
"Didn't you tell me that you were trying to protect your brother from your father?" I asked.
"Yes." He said, almost proudly. At sixteen he could not see the dichotomy of the whole thing.
Gary piped in, "Brian is mine -- and your brother wants to be normal. You will have to do what all other boys your age do."
"You mean visit my hand six times a day?" He said bitterly.
"Keyvan -- when you were in Persia -- and your father was with you -- before he decided to move on to your brother -- I am pretty confident that you didn't satisfy yourself in your father -- did you?"
He didn't say anything for a few moments. Then he answered, "My father fucked me. He would not allow me to touch myself while he was around me." He said it more bitterly that before.
"And -- did you find a way to relieve yourself?"
"Of course. With my brother."
"Before that. Before he let you do him -- what did you do?"
"I -- I -- did -- did -- myself!" And as if in his own defense, he said, "But that was when I was nine -- and ten! I am older now!"
"Keyvan -- every sixteen-year-old boy masturbates." I said. "If that is what it takes for you to leave Sohrab alone -- as long as he wants it that way -- then that may be what you need to do. But you are also becoming a man. I am not going to give you limits on your own self stimulation -- but I'd like to see you exercise some self control. And Keyvan?"
"Yes?" he said breathlessly.
"Stop doing it while you are here with us."
This boy will try everything -- and anything -- to get his way.
Keyvan got up and left the room, not looking back, but holding his swollen member. He went into the bathroom across the hall and closed the door. At first I thought I heard moaning coming form the bathroom, but we determined that it was not -- he was crying. There was more intensity to it momentarily -- I suppose that was when he finished what he started in my bed. Then he stayed in the bathroom and cried quietly for a long time.
I felt badly for him. He had nowhere to go. He could not go into Ronny's bedroom where Sohrab was, but he could also not stay with us. I heard the shower running. Then with the shower noise as cover he obviously did himself with more abandon.
While he was in the bathroom, I turned around and Gary and I could do nothing more than eavesdrop on this poor boys dilemma. When Keyvan got off, we kissed and that turned into a very passionate embrace. Gary got mup and locked the door, and then finished what he started last night before the altercation between the brothers.
Luckily, part of the remodel that was already finished was that there was an on-demand water heater that never ran out, so his shower was long -- enough that Gary was able to get me off, and very efficiently, as he consumed all the evidence of his gift to me. Just as we finished, there was a knock at the door. I suspected it was Sohrab. I opened the door. It was Ronny.
"Ronny!" We both said together.
"Yeah, Mick had some kind of meeting early, so I came home. Gettin' in a little morning whoopee, huh?"
"Ron!" Said Gary.
"Were we that noisy?" I asked.
"Well, the shower pretty much covered the sound -- pretty much! But you're still kinda out of breath. Hee hee!"
"Omigosh!" I said. "We HAVE to get that basement finished!" We all laughed.
Ronny came over to the bed and kissed us both on the lips. "I'm gonna hit the sack a couple more hours, Pop. Man, one of the boys is up early!"
"It's Keyvan. He slept with us last night. He's pretty tender right now. Be nice to him."
"See you later, dad -- and you to -- bro!" He said to Gary. Gary smiled broadly at Ronny as he closed our door.
Then we heard Ronny say, "Dude! Yer' up early. C'mon back to bed with me, Kev!"
"How soon do I get to move in here?" Asked Gary.
"As soon as you like. The sooner the better. But when you get rid of your place, we'll have no place to - "
"Yes we will! A motel now and then will be cheaper than my rent!"
"Good point!"
Gary and I got up about an hour later. We walked past the boys' bedroom. The door was open. Keyvan was snuggled deep in Ronny's arms, both of them breathing deeply, and Sohrab was lying on the other side of the king sized bed. He waved silently to us and smiled. I smiled to myself that my boy was secure enough in his sexuality to be able to comfort his hurting new little brother.
By the time the boys were all up, Gary had whipped up some chocolate crepes, and filled them with fresh raspberries he picked up at the Sacramento farmers market yesterday. I made my famous scrambled eggs, and added some bacon. It was the bacon that brought the kids out of their dreamy stupor, but when they saw the crepes, they were drooling before we ever sat down.
"You have a unique way of punishing, Dad." Said my youngest boy. Sohrab was gaining in his English skills and liked to show off his vocabulary skills.
"I think you were sufficiently corrected yesterday and - - I like to show and increase of love after discipline -- so you know I don't hate you."
"I love you, Dad." Said Sohrab.
Not to be bested, Keyvan said, "I love you too - - Poppy!" He grinned. Then he looked at his little brother and said, haltingly in English (or more accurately, American!) , "And I'll always love you, Sowy!" Sohrab smiled at his brother and squeezed his hand. "Maybe you can help me talk English better." For that he got a huge grin from Sohrab.
We heard a commotion outside. When we opened the door, there was Mo, in a new, customized Hummer. As soon as he stopped, the passenger window lowered and Stan jumped out and ran to the door, pausing only a moment, while he got eye contact with me -- which he took as his permission to enter. He found our dogs and they had a joyous reunion.
"Mo!" I said. "I thought you had an appointment today."
"I did. I wanted to surprise you -- or rather the boys. Where are they?"
"They are inside. I think they are a little worried I told you about our latest altercation. They fear you, Mo." I said, gravely.
"That is good. I'll be the bad policeman -- you can be the good policeman. What did they do this time?"
"It's taken care of -- nothing that you need to be concerned about. And - - it's good cop/bad cop."
"Oh! I did not know there was a distinction. Is it not disrespectful to call them that?"
"That's their term for it."
"I see. Well, before I reveal the surprise, I must ask you -- do you mind if the boys have a car?"
"A car?" I echoed. "Um -- why?"
"I don't want Ronny to be tied down to their schedule. They can coordinate their schedules to ride together to the college, but Ronny should not have to do this for them."
"I don't think Ronny minds, but -- you realize that this will make it easier for them to bolt -- to run away -- if they feel intimidated for any reason. They have both done it since they've been here, you know."
"I am aware of this. However I have been informed that my horses will be here next week, and I don't want them to bolt on one of them. Also -- I have had their car fitted with GPS and -- a remote electric disconnect. You can see where they are and shut down the car's engine."
I looked at the new Hummer and wondered. "Ronny -- go get the boys." I said.
The boys appeared shyly at the door. "Come out, Keyvan. Come out, Sohrab." Said Mo in his velvety smooth voice. They came to him, never once looking in his face. He held out a set of keys. "I have brought you a car to drive."
They looked at the keys and then at the Hummer. "Oh, Mr. Zarindast! This is too much!" they said, almost drooling at the beautiful car in front of them.
"Oh this is not your car. This is my car. Mr. Azerov will be here in a moment with your car.
He must have somehow notified Mick because at that moment, a very clean brand new Toyota Camry came in to driveway. Well -- it was brand new at one time -- maybe 1983! But it looked brand new. But it was nothing more than stock -- except for the GPS and the remote switch -- and I hoped that Mo would not tell them about those "improvements".
Mick (Mr. Azerov to the boys) hopped out of the car and grinned, tossing a set of keys to Keyvan. Mo gave Sohrab the other set. I was sure that was done purposely, to establish that Keyvan was still the oldest. But then Mo said, "Keyvan -- Sohrab -- In Persia the oldest son is more important that the younger ones. This is not so here. Here, you are equal. Do not think that you are equal to Ronny, either. He is a man -- just as Mr. Azerov here is.
"Also never forget that both of them nearly died so that you could have a better life. You will forever show them respect.
"Neither of you should feel more deserving than the other to drive the car. However, Sohrab, you are too young to drive -- legally -- in this state, so for now at least, Keyvan will be the designated driver. If either of you abuses this privilege, the car will be taken from you."
Keyvan muttered something in Farsi. "English!" ordered Mo.
"What is this abuse -- you speak of?" he said to Mo.
"I will leave that up to Mr. Weber. It is his home and you are - "
"You mean our dad!" Said Keyvan almost defiantly, but grinning.
Mo looked down, breathed deeply and seemed to be struggling to control himself. He looked up, tight lipped, and smiled. "If that's what he wants you to call him. As far as I am concerned, I bought the car for you to commute to college. Not for extracurricular drives on the Sabbath, or during the week. If you have time for that, then you are probably not studying or working hard enough."
Mo looked at me and I was afraid he was going to ridicule me. He smiled. "You know more about raising boys than I do, Brian. That's why I felt best placing these -- obviously typical teens -- with you. Boys -- I respect Brian -- your dad -- and I want the best for you. I guess I am glad that you call him Dad. I hope you will strive to be good sons to him -- and make both Brian and me proud."
"They're good boys." I said.
"Thank you Mr. Zarindast." Said Keyvan, looking at his feet. "Thank you Poppy!" He said, smiling at me. I half expected Mo to scowl at that, but he smiled demurely.
"I must go now. Of course I will visit when time permits." He said, standing expectantly. First Sohrab, then Keyvan stepped up and hugged him, formally kissing both cheeks.
Then Mo stepped, in turn, to me, Ronny, Gary and Mick, and gave us each hugs and kisses on the cheek. "I will be eternally grateful to all of you. Good bye for now."
He whistled low and Stan came running, apparently excited to get back on the road. He easily jumped through the open window of the lifted Hummer, not touching the exterior of the car.
After he left, Ronny said, "So THAT's where you had to go this morning!" They went into the house, leaving Gary and me and the boys in the front yard.
Keyvan looked at me and at their "new" car. "Have you driven a car before?" I asked.
"Yes!" He said.
"Where?" I asked -- a little incredulous.
He looked sheepishly at me and admitted, "It was a video arcade game."
"Get in!" I said.
"I've seen how Persians drive. I'll wait for you in the house!" Said Gary.
Keyvan excitedly hopped behind the steering wheel. I took shot gun and Sohrab jumped in the back seat. Keyvan looked at me grinning. "I suppose the first thing you should do is put the key in the ignition." I said.
"Oh! Yeah!" He did it and turned it. The car started easily. He looked at me, still grinning.
"Okay, put your foot on the brake, then put it in gear."
He looked at me as if he were deaf. "You have to put it in gear." I repeated, pointing to the gearshift lever. He pulled on it, but it would not move. "Push the button in with your thumb. He did it and started to move it. "WAIT!" I said. He jammed it back to park, and looked at me as if I had slapped him. "It's okay, but put your foot on the brake first.
He looked at the pedals at his feet. Thank God it is an automatic! He found the brake pedal and depressed it down hard. "Now squeeze the button with your thumb and slide the shifter to the `D' position. He complied. Now just give it a little gas. He removed his foot from the brake and pushed the accelerator as hard as he had the brake. The car shot out and we sped over the 3 foot high embankment that had been built up for a parking area, riding down the steep embankment with a thud.
"STOP!!" I shouted. He looked at the floor board to find the brake again and depressed it hard, bringing us to a shuddering, dusty stop inches from the trunk of a huge old oak tree. His hands and arms were shaking, and his face was a sickly pale greenish color. I reached over and turned off the key.
Keyvan looked at me, crushed. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" He cried. "Poppy, I didn't mean to do it!" He said, pleadingly. I looked back to see that Sohrab was okay. He was holding his mouth -- but not because he was hurt or sick. He was trying desperately not to - - laugh!
I broke out laughing and then so did Sohrab. After a withering look at both of us -- then a bewildered second glance, Keyvan saw the humor in the situation. He then joined our laughter.
"I guess I should have given you some better instruction." I said.
It never occurred to me that any 16 year-old would not know at least the basics of driving. I thought about taking over and getting us back on the driveway, but decided he should do it.
"Okay -- put your foot on the brake and move the shifter to `R'. now - - very gently step on the accelerator -- the gas.
Before long, he was maneuvering the car all over both sides of the roads in our neighborhood. He was doing it slowly. I had him completely stop when another car approached. He stopped almost exactly in the middle of the road. I coaxed him to move it to the right side, so they could pass. He was almost as if he was paralyzed as he shakily inched the car over to the right.
"Poppy?"
"Yes?"
"Can we just go home now?"
"Sure. Just turn around up there."
"Can you do it Poppy?" He whined.
"I'll do it!" Said Sohrab.
"You want a turn, Sohrab?"
"YESS!"
The boys traded places. Sohrab adjusted the seat and the steering wheel to his liking and then removed the keys from the ignition and gave them to Keyvan. Both Keyvan and I looked at him as if he were crazy. He then remover HIS keys from his pocket and put them in the ignition, and started the car. He put his foot on the brake and shifted into drive. He pressed gently, and the car started to move. His grin did not cease until we pulled into the driveway 10 minutes later. (It should only take about 30 seconds to drive back from where we were.)
When we were back, both boys were so excited that even Sohrab forgot to speak in English, as they discussed their first driving lesson. I ignored it this time.
Notes: Comments welcome, as always. Love, Steve