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From: nostrumo@nienor.IN-Berlin.DE (Nostrumo)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.tg,alt.sex.stories.moderated
Subject: Repost TG: Phoenix Risen    by Krystle Glass   (1/3)

Hi.

  This is a repost for Krystle.

  As usual I DIDN'T write this story and haven't any claim on it. If
you have some usefull hints or some good coments, your mail is then
welcome. Flames, you know, they will be piped to /dev/null.

  If you are an author and wish to remain anonymouns or just try to
avoid the replies to your work. I offer you the chance of posting your
stories and collecting the response for you. This offer only stands for
story postings and for nothing else.

Enjoy the story.

Ciao
	Nostrumo

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> cut here with a sharp knife <<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<


Phoenix Risen
                                                       by Krystle Glass



He first saw her while he was waiting at Dr.  G's for his appointment.  He
was there for his weekly session, both nervous and bored at the same time.
Nervous from anticipating his upcoming session, bored as most people are
when they are killing time with little more to entertain themselves than
year old obscure magazines.  He'd just put down a dog-eared copy of "The New
Yorker", one he'd looked at 20 times already, when he glanced up and saw her
leave the good Dr.'s room.  There was some quality about her that caught his
attention.  She was pretty, but not gorgeous, no raving beauty.  Her figure
was OK but nothing outstanding.  It was more some indefinable air about her.
She seemed so fragile, innocent and possessed a sadness about her bordering
on the tragic.  He didn't realize he was staring at her, but his gaze was
riveted upon her as she walked out of the waiting room.  She never noticed
him.  And he found himself staring at the door that had closed behind her.
How long he stared he wasn't sure, snapping out of his funk as he heard the
receptionist call his name.  He flushed a bit when he realized it wasn't the
first time he'd been called.  He had to wonder just how many times she'd had
to call him.  He answered her slightly amused grin with a sheepish smile,
and entered the Dr.'s office a bit hurriedly.

He'd been coming to Dr.  G's for about a year now.  The Dr.  was helping him
deal with a good bit of stress and a touch of depression.  All during
college, post-grad school, hunting for a good job the stress had been
building.  Of course dealing with his father's high expectations didn't
help.  His father was an enormously successful businessman, hardworking,
driven and as rigid as they come.  He felt he could never satisfy his
father, never measure up.  When he finally received his Master's, graduating
cum laude, his father made it quite clear he'd been expecting his son to
have graduated magna cum laude.  It has surprised them both when he'd turned
down the position his father had offered him in the company.  His father was
surprised because, like so many aspects of his life, Good Old Dad had
assumed he'd follow in those giant footsteps.  Assumed without question.
He'd surprised himself by finally standing up to his father and refusing,
surprised by the vehemence with which he abhorred the very idea of working
in his father's company.  He didn't realize until he'd said it just how much
he wanted, no needed, to find and make his own way.  The fight that followed
was of epic proportions, but still just one in a long history between them.
Six months after he'd started his own business, as an importer, everything
seemed to finally collapse.  All the stress that had built up over the
previous 24 years of his life, and the pressures of trying to make a go in
the highly competitive world of import/export, resulted in a short but
severe breakdown.  That was when he met the good Dr.  It had taken a year of
therapy, filled with ups and downs, insights, revelations and setbacks to
get his life stabilized.  Certainly he still had issues to deal with, the
still widening split with his family for one, but he was handling it.

As his appointment was drawing to an end, he surprised himself by asking the
Dr.  about the woman he'd seen leaving before his appointment.  "A very sad
case.  She's very emotionally fragile, but has amazed me at times with her
resilience.  But I really cannot discuss her case with you.  It would be
totally unethical." Dr.  G wouldn't even give out her name.  He respected
the Dr.'s professionalism, and he also liked and respected him as a person.
So he let the matter drop and tried to forget her.  As he drove home he
couldn't seem to get the image of her out of his mind.  Such a haunting type
of beauty.



  He was no stranger to women.  He'd dated his share, many extremely
desirable, beautiful women had gotten his attention.  It was amazing what
tremendous family wealth would do.  It didn't hurt that he was also
handsome, tall, athletic and personable.  He was very good with people, well
educated and with a wide variety of interests.  Some of his romances had
lasted for months, most less than that.  He found a wide variety of women
attractive, and had no single feature or type of woman that he found more
enticing than another.  He'd been involved with women of every imaginable
height/weight/hair color/eye color/ethnic background imaginable.  Many were
as intelligent and educated as he, some more so.  He'd dated across social
and economic backgrounds (now that had led to some fine battles at home).
Some had even sought him in marriage.  But he'd never really become serious
with any of them.  Some had ended badly, some were still close friends.  So
he found it puzzling, and maybe even unnerving, when days later he was still
thinking about his mystery girl.



  Over the next few months he caught several glimpses of her at Dr.  G's,
but they never seemed to connect.  Sometimes he'd be out the door only to
turn back and see her go in.  Most times he'd be sitting waiting, just as he
had been the first time he saw her, as she left.  Each time he was stricken
by her face and the air of sadness she had.  Once her eyes had met his and
he couldn't breathe.  As their eyes met he was held speechless by what he'd
barely glimpsed in the depths of her dark eyes.  They were truly amazing,
perhaps her most striking feature.  A brown so deep, so dark, with long lush
lashes.  Something in her eyes whispered of unimaginable depths of pain,
compassion, love, fragility and yes the strength Dr.  G had spoken of.  The
contact lasted only the briefest of seconds, and she acknowledged him with a
slight tilt to her head.  Then she was gone.  He finally drew in a
shuddering breath and was still very shaken when he entered Dr.  G's office
for his session.  It was some time before he could regain his composure
enough to speak.  The doctor was fascinated with his reaction to the woman.
He also seemed concerned and asked an interminable number of seemingly
unrelated questions, but would not divulge why.  He trusted Dr.  G and so
answered each question as honestly as he could.  By the end of his session
Dr.  G looked, not troubled, but perhaps a bit concerned.



  He was still heavily tied up with his business.  It was now turning a very
nice profit and he found it tremendously rewarding.  He loved the contact
with so many different people, the travel to different countries, the
workings of making deals.  He was very good at what he did and the chasm
between him and his father had begun to close once more.  His business
success had finally registered on his father and gained him some of the old
man's respect.  It wasn't perfect but he would take what he could get.  One
thing his therapy had gained him was that his father couldn't dominate or
aggravate him anymore.  He'd moved beyond being his father's son, and had
become his own man.

God, it was a great day!  He'd closed a major deal with a supplier in
Greece.  Mediterranean decor was becoming very hot (again!)  and the demand
was unbelievable.  He'd also had very productive session with Dr.  G. He was
in such a good mood he decided to skip going back to the office.  He called
his secretary and told her he would be out for the remainder of the day.
The sun was shining, there was a slight breeze keeping it from becoming too
hot.  He decided to do something he hadn't done in years.  He was going to
spend the day in the park.  The Park was famous for it's floral gardens,
landscaping, variety of trees, the duck pond.  He used to go there and
people watch when he was still a student.  He stopped at a food cart, bought
himself a junk food lunch (another treat too long denied) and enjoyed his
stroll.  Coming over a rise he stopped dead, his mouth hanging open.  He'd
been just about to take another bite of his mustard covered hotdog (which he
wasn't even aware he dropped), when he saw her.  His mystery girl!  She was
sitting on a bench by the duck pond, feeding the flock that had formed
around her.  He stood and stared for several minutes, just taking in the
tableau before him.  She was dressed in a light spring dress, espadrilles
and a wide-brimmed hat with a yellow ribbon.  He hadn't recognized her at
first with the hat shading her face.  But when she turned, eyes closed, to
bask in the sun, he'd been thunderstruck.  The breeze gently blew her long
dark hair.  A small maple to her right had dappled her in shadow.  One pure
brilliant shaft of sunlight had found her an illuminated her face as she
soaked in it's warm caress.  He was startled from his reverie by the sound
of a kid skateboarding up behind him.  "Hey man, you're blocking the way!"
he jumped aside, the teen glaring at him in absurd indignation.  Before he
knew what he was doing he found himself walking towards her.

"Do you mind if I sit here?" He asked.  She turned towards him and his heart
froze once more, she was so breathtaking!

"Not at all." she replied as she turned once more to feeding the ducks.

He sat there for what seemed an eternity, his voice lost.  "I feel like a
schoolboy" he thought to himself.  Normally confident and easy in any
situation this woman had him totally flustered.  Swallowing the lump in his
throat, "I'm Peter.  Peter Hutchinson." He managed (barely) to squeak out.
Clearing his throat he held out his hand.  He half expected hers to be cool,
light and ethereal, but was once more surprised.  Her hand was very slim,
long fingered, but warm.  There was also a real sense of silken strength in
her hand.  Here was a real woman, not some ethereal creature after all.  "A
beautiful day." He said, struggling to find some way to not sound so lame.
"

She gazed about slowly, "Yes it is, very beautiful.  Rare for this early in
the season." Her voice was very soft, not lyrical or musical, not really
breathy, not husky.  It had, like the rest of her, a quality he found hard
to define, both fragile and strong at the same time.  "I've seen you at Dr.
G's office." she said.  She'd noticed him!  The very idea that this woman
who had so haunted his thoughts had noticed him, made his pulse race.  He
felt pleased beyond reason and felt his face split into a wide smile.

"Why yes, I do see Dr.  G. He's helped me sift through a lot of issues in
the past couple of years." he answered.

"Dr.  G has been a blessing to me." she said.  "Without his help, I don't
think I'd still be here today." He was not so thick-headed that he didn't
guess her meaning.  The very concept of such an exceptional woman thinking
of suicide evaporated his smile and caused a slight frown.  "Oh you really
should smile more.  It makes you so much more handsome.  Frowning makes you
look so very serious.  Nice to have met you Peter Hutchinson." Gathering her
bag, she gracefully rose.  He found himself standing, as she turned and
walked away.  Before he realized it, she was out of sight, and then it
dawned on him.  He hadn't even learned her name!



  Over the next few weeks he tried to time his appointments with Dr.  G, so
that he might run into her again.  He would arrive at the building early and
try to spot her, or if he hadn't seen her by the time he left he would
linger a while.  But she was still so elusive, he barely caught more than a
glimpse of her.  He found himself frequenting the park, especially the duck
pond.  He took to feeding the ducks to pass the time and eventually had
names for several of the regulars.  Once he thought he spied her across the
bridge that transversed the duck pond, but it was rather foggy and he
couldn't be sure.  He tried to catch her, but she was as elusive as a
phantom.

His business was still booming, and he was kept quite busy.  He was
traveling nearly every couple of weeks and seldom spent much time at his
apartment.  But overall he was content.  Things were going smoothly, his
visits to his parents had become less strained, nearly cordial.  He seemed
to need Dr.  G less and less.  His sessions become monthly rather than
weekly.  This was good and bad.  Good because it meant he had resolved most
of his baggage from his childhood.  Bad because it gave him less chance to
find the woman that had come to completely haunt what little free time he
had.



  It was raining, well actually more of a heavy drizzle.  He'd come to the
park still.  It had been months and he really didn't come thinking to find
her.  It had instead become more of a habit.  But one he enjoyed.  He found
it relaxing, sitting, feeding the ducks.  He'd talk to them (though it was
more like he was talking to himself).  "Well Harry, how are the young one's?
The missus must be proud." Harry and Matilda had mated and their young had
hatched just last week.  The little ducklings carefully watched by both
Harry and Matilda, as they waddled and scrambled for the bread crumbs he
brought.  "Fine weather for ducks, Harry my man.  Have you and the little
lady thought about where you'll be vacationing come winter?  Florida?
Again?  Harry you need to be more creative.  Try someplace new."

The giggle he heard behind him, made him flush in embarrassment.  He turned
to see who'd caught him rambling.  There, under a what had to be the biggest
pink umbrella he'd ever seen, was his dream woman.  He blushed an even
brighter shade of red.  "Now Harry," she said with a gleam, "you never told
me you knew Peter." With a sidelong glance she smiled at him and his heart
just melted.  "Don't be embarrassed, Peter.  I talk to the ducks all the
time.  They are very good listeners and never had any criticism to offer.
By the way, my name is Sharon.  Sharon Phoenix." Despite the coolness of the
day and the drizzle, her hand was again surprisingly warm, vibrant.  But
although she was smiling he could still see the sadness lurking within.  "Do
you mind if I join you?" Did he mind?  Good lord, this was what he'd dreamed
of so often!

"I must look like a drowned rat." he thought.  When she sat her umbrella
sheltered them both.  They sat side by side, without talking.  Just feeding
the ducks.  Was it his imagination, or were the ducks smiling at him as
well?.  He could feel the warmth she radiated, and could have sworn she
could hear his heart hammering away in his chest.  Just when he'd worked up
the courage to speak, the skies really opened up.  Lightning flashed and the
boom of thunder made them both jump.  It was truly pouring now and they
really couldn't stay where they were.  "Would you like to join me for some
coffee?" he asked.  She accepted on the condition that they walk, and that
he share her umbrella.  He wasn't about to disagree!

Side by side they strolled out of the park, thunder rolling in the distance.
By the time they exited the park, he found himself walking with his arm
around her waist.  He'd done it without thought, trying to stay under the
shelter of her umbrella.  She'd told him she loved walking in the rain.  Not
many people did and it gave her the feeling of having the whole city to
herself.  They found a nice caf where they could dry out and just watch the
rain.  It was a small intimate place, nearly empty.  As time passed he found
himself more at ease with her.  In fact before he realized it, it had gotten
dark.  He'd been talking to her for four hours!  He had told her all about
his business, his hopes and dreams for the future.  "Look I didn't mean to
talk your ear off.  You must be hungry.  I know I'm starving.  Let me make
it up to you by buying you dinner." He couldn't bear to see this end.

"No really thank you." She demurred.  "I have really enjoyed this.  It's
been nice.  But I'm not hungry and I should be going."

"Let me at least get you a cab.  You'll be drenched if you go out in this.
Plus it's gotten dark."

"Thank you, Peter, but I don't mind the rain.  I find it soothing.  And I
have a ways to go before I'm home."

He'd noticed she wore no ring, not even a telltale mark of one having been
there recently.  "Sharon, I want to see you again.  Will you have dinner
with me?  Can I call you?"

"Peter, thank you.  I'm flattered, but I'm not really ready to 'date'.  It
isn't you.  I like you, you're a very nice man.  You're kind and sensitive
but I really don't think it's a good idea."

"Sharon, I understand.  I won't pressure you.  Can we be friends?"

"I'd like that."

He had a sense she didn't have many friends.  "Then can your new friend call
you sometime?  We could have coffee or whatever.  Dutch treat."

With a smile to break his heart and a laugh that *was* musical, she gave him
her number.

As he made his way to his apartment, he was so thrilled he didn't expect to
sleep all night.  Surprisingly he slept like a baby.  No one could see the
smile that lit his face in his sleep.



  The next morning dawned sunny and bright.  She was awakened by the ringing
of the phone.  "mm hullo?" she said still groggy.

"Good morning, my friend!" It was Peter, sounding full of life and
excitement.  "How about joining me for breakfast?  I know a great place in
town that makes the best Belgium waffles and omelets you've ever tasted."

"Peter?  Wha' time is it?"

"It's 7:00 and this place fills up fast.  Especially on the weekends.  I'll
pick you up in 30 minutes."

"No, no, that's too soon.  I'll meet you there.  What's the name of the
place and where is it?  OK, I know it.  I'll be there in an hour." Dragging
herself out of bed, she stumbled to the shower.  She almost never got up so
early on Saturdays.  She'd have to really move it if she were to get to the
restaurant in time.  The train ride into town would take at least 20
minutes, if she were lucky.  The day promised to be warm and sunny.  She
quickly showered, dried and brushed her hair into a simple ponytail, pulled
to one side and held with a flowered clip.  Her make-up was very natural and
subdued and done in just a few minutes.  She was very good at it and had the
time down to nearly nothing.  Hurriedly she went back to the bedroom and
dressed.  She chose a nice pair of khaki shorts, simple white cotton blouse,
sandals, small enameled pansy earrings, simple gold herringbone necklace.
She checked her purse, grabbed a light pullover sweater in case it was
cooler than she thought and headed out.  She'd gotten ready in just 30 min.
and hit the trains and transfers perfectly.  Almost exactly 60 minutes after
she'd gotten off the phone, she walked into the restaurant.  Taking off her
sunglasses she spotted Peter as he stood and waved from a table by the
window.  In no time at all they picked up where they had left off the day
before.

During breakfast neither of them noticed the food.  Later they would not
even be able to recall just what they'd ordered.  Neither of them had made
any plans, so they ended up spending the day walking the city.  They
strolled the park, walked the more avante garde area, browsing the shops and
vendor carts.  Peter found himself opening up to her as he had never done
with anyone else.  During the next few hours he had told her more about
himself and his feelings than he had during the first year of his therapy
with Dr.  G. He even found himself sharing things he'd not told the doctor.,
some things he'd never realized or admitted to himself.  He found this
remarkable woman so easy to talk to.  He could see the compassion in her
eyes, sensed she could truly understand his feelings.  She seemed to
empathically feel what he felt.  Even more astounding he felt better about
himself.  It was as if his sharing with her had opened up a part of himself
that had always been closed.  He felt HEALED. In contrast he learned very
little about her.  He found out a lot of the typical things; foods she
liked, favorite colors, movies, books, activities, all covering a very broad
spectrum.  But he learned nothing about her past or the tragedy he could
sense within her.  Instinctively he knew not to press her or pry, that their
relationship was new and that those in those areas she was very skittish and
fragile.

Dusk came and the air cooled.  They had wandered far from the restaurant
where they'd started.  "I really should be heading home." she said, "I've
got a busy night tomorrow and have a lot to get ready.  The train ride home
from here is going to take at least 45 minutes."

"OK, I've got commitments tomorrow night too.  But no way you're taking the
train.  We'll catch a cab back to my car and I'll drive you home."

Too relaxed and a bit weary to refuse, she acquiesced.  Peter was surprised
at where she lived.  He had for some reason pictured her in a stylish
apartment in one of the historic areas of the city.  He never expected this
quaint house in the suburbs.  It was very traditional, complete with white
picket fence.  As he pulled into the driveway, he noted the well trimmed
lawn, bright cheery flower beds, various shrubs.  It al came together
exceptionally well, each aspect complementing the others, and giving it a
really homey welcoming feel.  She invited him in for coffee, and the
interior showed the same sense of style and taste.  While she was in the
kitchen preparing the coffee, he roamed the living room.  Examining the
multitude of CD's and books, he was struck by the wide range of tastes her
music and reading material covered.  She had a fairly good video collection
as well and it too showed someone with varied interests.  The music covered
time from the 50's to the latest, instrumentals, old fashioned rock n' roll,
dance, ballads, folk, pop, classical, nature sounds.  The majority of her
books were read for pleasure.  No biographies or text books, no romance
novels.  There were true crime, thrillers, mysteries, horror, sci-fi, and
fantasy.  The videos were a mixed bag of comedies, nature films, adventure,
action, etc.  While the decor was cozy, relaxing and fairly traditional, her
entertainment equipment (stereo, TV, video equipment) were all top quality
and state-of-the-art.  He asked to use her bathroom, and on the way passed a
den and what must have been her bedroom.  The den was small, neat and well
organized.  One corner was dominated by what appeared to be a very
sophisticated computer set-up.  He didn't know much about such stuff, but he
could see there was a lot of equipment there.  Sharon was still puttering in
the kitchen and he couldn't resist peeking in the bedroom.  The bedroom was
exactly what he would have pictured her in, very feminine, but not frilly.
Simple but not plain.  Stylish but not ostentatious.  This appeared to be
the only room with any pictures.  There were several drawings and paintings
on the walls.  The were very, very good, but for some reason unsettling.  He
could see they were drawn from the artist's imagination and unlike the rest
of the house, which was cheery and bright, these were somber, brooding and
sad.  On the night stand was a photograph.  It showed a family; father,
mother, little boy.  He didn't want to be a snoop, so he made his way back
to the living room.  Sharon was just setting down a tray with coffee and
some pastry.

He complimented her on her home, remarked at the terrific strudel, only to
find out she'd made the confection herself.  He learned she'd done all the
work around the house.  He enjoyed gardening, working the landscaping, found
cooking relaxing and seldom followed recipe's.  She preferred to create her
own dishes from scratch.  The more he learned about her, the more remarkable
Peter found her to be.  This was the kind of woman he could be serious with.
All too soon it was time to leave.  She gave him a quick hug and kiss on the
cheek, thanked him for a wonderful day.  As he walked to his car, Peter's
chest was pounding, his blood rushing in his ears.  He was smiling so wide
as he drove home, his cheeks hurt.

As Sharon picked up the coffee cups and dishes, she smiled to herself.  This
was the most fun she'd had in such a long time.  She hadn't had such a
relaxing day on years.  She found Peter to be charming, sensitive and
considerate.  She could sense he really cared.  Suddenly a tremor shook her,
a chill swept through her and her smile vanished.  A single tear rolled down
her cheek as she finished cleaning up.  Shortly afterwards, the house dark
and still, she retreated to her bed.  She knew the night would be long,
empty and filled with dreams she'd rather avoid.  But they were such a part
of her life now they were in a way like old friends.



  The next night Peter attended a performance of "Cats".  He was
entertaining a new client and had brought them to dinner at one of the
finest restaurants in town.  Usually when he was having one of these social
evenings with a new client, especially if the client was accompanied by his
or her spouse, Peter escorted one of any number of women from his social
circle.  Tonight though he just couldn't think of anyone he wanted to be
with, none of them simply appealed to him.  The truth was that there was
only one woman he wanted to be with, and that was Sharon.  After the play,
he managed to gain access backstage, and brought his client and his wife to
meet some of the cast.  While the client's wife oohed and aahed over meeting
them, the client gave Peter a wide grin and let him know that Peter had
cinched the deal.  His client was a very well known plastic surgeon from
California.  He was building a new home and needed someone like Peter who
could get the artwork, furnishings, accessories etc.  to decorate it in the
style his wife wanted.  The doctor's wife was known for being "difficult"
but by making her happy, Peter had made not only a very lucrative deal, but
a friend for life.  "Peter, I owe you big time for this.  If there's ever
anything I can do for you just ask."

As he watched his clients, Peter idly looked around at the backstage bustle
of everyone cleaning up.  He thought he spied a familiar face and when he
went over to check...it was Sharon!  She must have come to see the play too.
It was very popular and had enjoyed a packed house all throughout it's run.
In fact he'd had to call in some favors to get tonight's tickets, not to
mention the backstage passes.  Now that he knew Sharon was also a fan of the
theater he knew where he'd ask her to go next.  "Hi!  Did you come to see
the play" he asked.

"No silly!  I work here." Then he noticed the table, brushes, tray, pots,
powders etc.  "I'm a make-up artist.  I work a lot of the plays and shows.
Also some of the advertising agencies use my services." With a grin and a
flourish, "My card good sir." He looked down at the card she presented.  It
was a pleasant rose color, embossed in a deep metallic blue "Crystal
Illusions, artistry by Ms.  Sharon Phoenix".  They talked for a few minutes,
and then Sharon went to see the director for a consultation.  As she walked
away, peter gazed at her raptly, unawares he was being watched by several of
the cast and crew.  He turned to re-join his clients and was brought up
short by a very slender man, part of the cast perhaps.

"Oh honey, I can see you've got it bad."

"What do you mean?"

"Oh hell, anyone looking at you watching Sharon could tell.  But look, you
be real careful with her.  She's a real doll and you're not the only one who
loves that lady.  You do anything to hurt her and you'd better leave town."
With a flounce the young man walked off.  Peter was amused and touched by
the man's statement.  On one hand the man was maybe 5'6" to Peter's 6'2" and
all of 120 lbs.  To Peter's 195.  Peter could kill him without any effort.
But the young man's sincere concern for Sharon, his protectiveness of her
made him like the man immediately and reinforced his feeling that Sharon was
someone special.



  Peter and Sharon, saw each other off and on for the next few weeks.  They
never had a "date", instead just going out "as friends" and enjoying each
others company.  During one of his increasingly infrequent sessions with Dr.
G, the doctor commented on how much more at ease Peter seemed, how much more
at peace he was.  Peter attributed it to his and Sharon's growing closeness.
"Peter, I want you to be very careful with Sharon.  Both for your own
protection and hers.  There is a lot going on with that woman.  I can't go
into details, but there are many things I doubt you know." Peter admitted he
didn't know much about her, but felt he had come to know her essence, what
made her the person she was.  For the first time, Peter admitted to himself
and said to the doctor, "Doc, I think I love her.  Maybe I'm crazy but I
do."

"Look Peter, you're a good man and I know you would never hurt anyone
intentionally.  I can see you really feel the way you say.  Just be
careful."



  A week later, Peter found himself attending a black tie event.  It was a
benefit for the Children's Hospital, a combination fund-raiser, awards
banquet and public relations hype.  Peter had been attending for several
years.  His father was on the board of directors, and it was one of the
families long standing charities.  The place was filled with "beautiful
people", celebrities, politicians, leaders in the medical and business
fields.  His outgoing nature and gift with people usually made these events
a real pleasure for him.  Typically he would be there with his current
beauty on his arm.  He had asked Sharon if she was busy for this night, but
she had a prior commitment.  His mother commented on how he hadn't been
seeing anyone for some time now.  He didn't want to tell her about Sharon
yet.  Things had become much better between him and his father of late, and
he was also feeling a touch protective towards her.  He didn't want her to
have to deal with his father's usual cross-examination.  His mother took his
lack of a date as an excuse to play matchmaker.  She kept him busy with an
endless stream of eligible women.  When it was time to adjourn to the dining
hall, his mother finagled things so he was seated next to one such lady.
She was the daughter of one of his father's wealthiest competitors.  She was
beautiful, charming, well educated, witty.  Peter found himself having fun
despite his mother's machinations.  But he also found himself comparing this
young woman to Sharon.  This woman was much more sophisticated, had traveled
all over the world.  In fact they shared many common places they had
visited.  Her honey blonde hair was perfectly coifed in an elaborate
upsweep.  Her jewelry was obviously expensive.  She wore an impressive
sapphire and diamond necklace, matching earrings, bracelet and ring.  Her
gown was the latest style, very fitted, with a deep v-neckline.  The sequins
glittered with her every move.  The slit went high enough to allow him an
excellent view of her well shaped legs.  Her nails were long, professionally
manicured, her make-up a perfect blend of the exotic and classy, nothing
cheap or tawdry here.  In short she was like every other woman he'd dated.
Sharon was well a real person, down-to-earth, but still had an aspect that
thrilled him and called to his primal desires every bit as strongly as her
fragility called to his desire to protect her.  During a break in the
conversation, during one of the interminably boring speeches, Peter glanced
across the room.  There was Sharon!  He was realizing there was much more to
her than he'd guessed.  Now it seemed they had one more thing in common.  He
wondered if she were here with anyone.  She was at a table with several
other people, but it was obvious she was alone.  Her hair glowed and was
simply pulled back off her face and held by a pair of pearled clips.  She
wore a simple gown of deep blue silk.  No plunging neckline or form fitted
shape, but instead it seemed to flow around her, a scarf draped across her
throat and over her shoulders.  A simple pair of pearl earrings were her
only jewelry.  Her face was angelic.  So beautiful, her look so natural and
the colors she'd used accented her natural look and coloring perfectly.  She
was a complete contrast to every other woman in the room.

He lost sight of her as the awards program began.  He intended to find her
later and dance with her.  He was distracted, daydreaming of her, while
carrying on conversation with the woman seated next to him, as well as his
parent's and the others dining at his table.  The Director of the hospital
stepped up to the podium., "And now ladies and gentlemen, I want to take
this opportunity to make a special award I want to give a very special
recognition to someone who has touched many hearts here in the past 3 years.
She came to us on her own with an outline for a new program that has made
countless young lives happier.  She has given untold hours of her time to
this hospital and our young patients here.  She single-handedly built the
program that helps those children, who have suffered from deformity and
disfigurement, feel better about themselves and how they look.  She has
worked closely with our reconstructive specialists on ways to help with the
transition periods faced by those we can help.  I ask you now for your
applause and present to you Ms.  Sharon Phoenix!" Peter was stunned!  He had
no idea Sharon was tied to the hospital, that she had been volunteering.
She was so unassuming, it was just like her not mention the things so many
would have bragged about.  As the room applauded, and Peter watched her
gracefully make her way to receive her award, he beamed and his applause
were the most enthusiastic of all.

"Sharon, " the director said, "We have received so many letters of thanks
and gratitude from the patients, and families, that you and the program you
instituted have helped.  I have received so many glowing comments of praise
from the doctors and staff, that it is my pleasure to present you with this
award.  It is in honor of your unselfish dedication and will become an
annual award, to be known as the Phoenix Award." With that he presented her
with a plaque and asked her to say a few words.

"Thank you Dr.  Stanton.  I haven't done any more than any of the other
volunteers or dedicated staff here.  I will accept this award in honor of
them all." With that she gracefully returned to her seat, all the while
receiving applause.

Peter was so distracted after that, that his mother asked him if anything
were wrong.  He excused himself, and made his way over to Sharon's table,
intent on congratulating her and asking her to dance.  He found her table,
but there was no sign of her.  He asked the others if they saw which way she
had gone, but they told him she had left for the night.



  A couple of days later they had made plans to an outdoor concert.  It was
another charity event.  His father was successful and wealthy enough to be
involved in the background of politics, and this was a fund-raiser for his
father's favorite candidate for governor.  His father had made a token
appearance early on, but had already left.  He preferred to work in the
background, wheeling and dealing, while expecting Peter to keep up the
public show as the token family representative.  All part of making the
political machine work for his benefit, according to dear old Dad.

Peter picked Sharon up and asked her how her week had been.  She said fine,
but no mention of having won any award.  She asked about his night out and
he told her it was no big deal, just something his parents had wanted him to
go to, sort of a family tradition.  Then he was hit with an inspiration - he
would invite her to meet his parents.  There was a huge barbecue planned
next month.  Sharon knew about his past with his father, but she also knew
that the anger, frustration and resentment he'd fostered for so long wasn't
there any more.  His parent's would normally look down their nose at someone
of Sharon's economic background, but since she'd just won an award that was
named after her, they couldn't possibly.  The concert was superb.  The music
terrific, the weather phenomenal.  The sky was a bright deep blue with
dazzling white puffy clouds to give it character.  He got to show Sharon off
to all his friends.  A few recognized her from the banquet, and when they
congratulated her, she'd said it was "no big deal".  Everyone took to her
and in no time it was if she'd been part of their group for years.  His male
friends congratulated him on such a find, a few asked if they were an "item"
or was she available.  Some of his old girlfriends congratulated him on his
taste, a couple said if they had to lose him to someone at least it was
someone with class.  They all knew his reputation and told him this wasn't
someone to take lightly.  The day turned out even more perfect, when Peter's
cousin Sid asked Sharon if Peter was bringing her to the family barbecue!
Everyone jumped in and encouraged her to go, so she had little choice but to
accept.  Later as they walked back to his car, Sharon took Peter's hand.  He
had been very careful not to push her, but her touched thrilled him.  As he
opened her door for her, she leaned forward and kissed him lightly.  "Thank
you for a wonderful day." she said.  They drove back in silence, each
smiling.  He would gaze at her, the wind blowing through her hair, the
setting sun turning her face to gold, her eyes closed as she enjoyed the
drive through the country.  They got back to town very late, having stopped
at a little caf for a bite to eat.  They went by Peter's apartment on the
way as it was en route to Sharon's house.  Peter wanted to check his
messages and had left his beeper and cell phone at home.  After a quick
stop, they went to leave once more, but his car wouldn't start.  It was a
Sunday night and while he could have his car towed, it wouldn't be fixed
until tomorrow at the earliest.  By now it was 10 PM and he could see Sharon
was tired.  He was too after such a full day.  He offered to get her a cab
or if she wanted she could spend the night and he'd get her home in the
morning.



  Being the gentleman he was, Peter insisted she take his bed and he'd sleep
on the sofa.  He had a spare toothbrush and his college sweatshirt to sleep
in.  He let her clean up first.  When she finished he turned and saw her
standing in the doorway.  His sweatshirt was too big for her slender frame,
but he was surprised it wasn't any too long.  She was tall for a woman,
maybe 5'9" or 5'10".  She looked so sweet and so innocent standing there.
Peter found it powerfully erotic.  She came and kissed his cheek to say
goodnight.  The scent of her freshly washed hair and skin was intoxicating
as he inhaled her fragrance.  He fought the urge to take her in his arms and
crush her lips to his.  He couldn't rise for fear of his reaction to her
being too evident.  She turned and closed his bedroom door.  After his pulse
slowed finally, he stood somewhat painfully, and showered himself.  The
bathroom was still steamy from her shower and the air was filled with her
scent.  He felt electrified and though worn out, he doubted he'd sleep well.

Sharon stretched out and luxuriated in the feel of Peter's bed.  It had been
a long, pleasant day.  It had been so long since she'd had so much fun with
so many people.  She liked Peter's friends and his cousin Sid was a riot.
Peter was wonderful too.  She enjoyed being with him more than she cared to
admit.  His scent lingered on the bedding and in his sweatshirt, and she
breathed deep, enjoying it so much she found it troubling.  She worried at
how close she had come to feel towards him.

Sure enough, Peter tossed and turned, unable to rest.  He drifted in and out
of a troubled sleep, filled with the most erotic dreams.  He awoke to
strange sounds coming from his bedroom.  He went to the door and listened,
hearing whimpers and cries of anguish.  "Sharon?  Are you OK?" he whispered.
Not getting any response he eased open the door.  Sharon lay twisted in the
bedclothes.  Her face was beaded with sweat and she tossed and thrashed
about, held fast in the throes of a nightmare.  Her cries tore at him and he
went to her side.  The light from the open door illuminated the tears that
streamed down her face as she cried in her sleep.  He couldn't bear to see
her in such pain and he gathered her in his arms, murmuring soothing words
to try to quiet her sleep.  He held her as you would hold a child, stroking
her hair, kissing her cheek.  In time she calmed within his embrace, and
settled into a more natural restful sleep, clutching him like a life
preserver.  He tried to disengage himself from her, but she clung to him and
he feared awakening her.  So he spent the remainder of the night, holding
her.  Holding the woman he loved.

Somewhere near dawn, Peter managed to make his way back to the sofa.  The
primal passion he'd felt earlier had long been replaced by a deeper need.
The need to see this woman happy and safe.  He grabbed a few hours of sleep,
awakening to the smell of bacon cooking.  "Good morning sleepyhead" she
called as he stumbled into the kitchen.  "My you don't look like you slept
well at all." Then like a cloud passing before the sun her expression
changed.  "Did I keep you awake?" she asked, her face filled with worry.  To
spare her discomfort he told her it was just the sofa.  Her eyes widened and
she began to giggle when he came around the counter.  He frowned and then it
dawned on him, old Mr.  Lucky was giving her a morning salute through his



                                  1

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