Disclaimer: KISS, Paul Stanley and Gene Simmons are real persons, and this story is not meant to harm or demean them in any manner. It is a work of fiction. Trynia Merin and other characters are property of the author. Rated R for sexual content and language, so no readers under 18 please.

Fresh eggs sizzled in the frying pan, and Trynia wiped sweat from her forehead. The aroma of hot coffee merged with that of the toast that popped up from the large slot toaster, and the scent of the freshly squeezed orange juice.

She tipped the mass of freshly chopped green onions from the cutting board into the pan, followed by the mushrooms. Putting the board down she picked up a small glass bowl of grated cheddar and dropped a few hand-fulls into the pan next. Ingredients mingled into a wide yellow disc, and she folded it quickly over onto a plate.

Today would constitute the tying off loose ends, she decided. To confront the last pieces of her life and settle them for the trial ahead. Just how it would all unfold, she was not certain, and yet she knew that she desired to leave Villanova behind, and join Paul for his appearance on the AMA.

"Hmm I smell something cooking, so I don't have to ask what is, good looking," laughed a familiar voice into her ear. She smiled as Paul wrapped his arms around her, hugging her from behind. As he had done many times before, he kissed her ear, then lifted the hair aside to kiss the nape of her neck softly.

"Hey there stranger," she laughed back. "Just let me get this second omelet."

"So, what's on the agenda today?" Paul asked her.

"Going to school to take care of loose ends, and then I'll start packing," she said.

"That's my girl," Paul nodded, kissing her again. He picked up the coffeepot and one of the plates of breakfast, carrying them toward the table. Trynia brought the orange juice and her own plate to the kitchen table after him.

She arrived at Villanova while Paul went to park the car. Pleasantly surprised he had offered to take her down, she carried one of the empty cardboard boxes he'd stashed for her books and other papers, promising to bring the rest. Painstakingly she sorted her papers and books into several stacks, in an effort to decide what to trash and what to keep.

Art walked into the lab where her desk was, and stopped in surprise to see her there. Wandering over to her desk he tapped her on the shoulder, "Hey girl, what dimension did you pop out of! Damn, we thought you'd taken off!"

"Hi Art, I was just packing my stuff..."

"You really are leaving, aren't you?" he asked.

"Yes, I turned in my letter at the office," she sighed.

"Man I 'm sorry to hear that," Art shook his head. "The lab won't be the same place without you..."

"I know..."

"Why are you just leaving...?" Melanie asked, walking in from the adjoining lab where the chemicals were stored. "Just dropping out?"

"I'm taking a semester off. Paul needs to see the doctor about his hip, and well... if he needs surgery I want to be there with him..." Trynia sighed.

"That makes sense to me," Art nodded. "Damn..."

"But I won't be totally leaving my school behind," she said. "I was filling out forms earlier today to transfer to a school in LA..."

"So, you're really moving, for real?" asked Melanie. "Just like that..."

"Yes. There are too many memories here. I need to make a new start, and take some time to sort all this out..."

"We'll miss you," Mel sighed, wiping a tear from her eye. She hugged Trynia, labcoat and all. Art gave her a squeeze himself, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

"You take care of him, girl," he whispered. "Don't blame you at all.."

"Are you absolutely sure you wanna do this?" Melanie asked again.

"Well... it's just that I need some time and space," Trynia sighed, tossing a whole mess of papers into the trash.

"Can we help you pack at least?" Art asked, taking a few books and gallantly putting them into one of the folded boxes.

"Sure but..."

"You'd better talk to Dr. Goyette. He's been asking about you," Melanie sighed, and sat on the edge of Trynia's now emptied desk.

"All right, but I still..."

"We'll help you get this stuff into some boxes. You talk to Dr. Goyette..."

"Okay," Trynia relented. She half dreaded going downstairs for fear of running into Dr. Davis. Yet, she had not bothered to ask about the professor since arriving. Down the hall, she trekked, reluctantly, past Dr. Davis lab. Inside she saw the lights were turned off, and the door locked. Strange, she muttered to herself, and peered in through the glass window. Many of the counters were bare, or stacked with boxes.

Was it possible, she wondered. Trynia trotted downstairs to the second floor and went down the hall to the chemistry office. She walked in, and the secretary Jane gasped with surprise and smiled.

"Trynia, I was just thinking about you! Did you come to talk to Dr. Goyette?"

"Yes... is he in?"

"He's in his office... why don't you go see him?" Jane asked. Trynia checked her mailbox, and then headed off down to the familiar office where she had spent many a conversation with her advisor. His door was slightly ajar, and she saw the light beaming from an office lamp. At sight of her in the doorway, he perked up from his computer keyboard and said, "Trynia! Come in!!! I had been meaning to talk to you!"

"I'm sorry I haven't been around," she apologized, hesitating before sitting down. "but I suppose you got my letter..."

"Are you really considering dropping out?" he asked. "Or are you requesting to transfer to another school?"

"I'm sorry professor, but Paul needs a possible hip operation, and I can't stand to be in the same building as Dr. Davis..."

"Didn't you hear?" Dr. Goyette asked.

"Hear... hear what?" Trynia asked, sinking into the chair. Strength seemed to fade from her legs at t hat moment.

"He's resigned, effective immediately," Dr. Goyette said calmly.

"You're kidding... really?"

"I happened to overhear some of what you two were saying. Moreover, he made some sexist comments that I particularly thought were most damaging to his reputation. There's been an inquiry, but before we could meet, Dr. Davis resigned his position."

"Oh god..."

"so, he's no longer a factor. Won't you reconsider finishing your semester here?" he asked. "I would hate to lose you as a student..."

"I'm sorry but I have to be with Paul," she sighed. "At least till his surgery is over with... if he needs it."

"I understand... but won't you reconsider coming back?" dr. Goyette asked. "I mean you can take a month or two off..."

"I had considered transferring to a school in LA," she said clearly. "I was hoping you would write me an recommendation..."

"do you realize only a few of your courses will transfer... you'd have to start over again..."

"I know, but I want to be with Paul. That's what is important to me right now. And I am not so sure being a chemist is what I want anymore..."

"Trynia..."

"I didn't realize till now why I wanted to be a chemist. I took a good long look at my reasons, and I'm not sure if they are the right ones. I became a chemist, because I loved science. And although art and writing are my love, there seemed little chance in making a career out of them. So I picked science, and chemistry because it was something I enjoyed doing, and knew I could stand doing 40 hours a week. I'm not dedicated like the others. I can't pretend to be something I'm not anymore..."

"Well that is up to you to decide. If you feel chemistry is not your bag, then better to discover it now, then later..." Dr. Goyette sighed.

"I have to do what makes me happy. Even if it means changing my mind," she nodded. "its time I woke up and realized what is really important. I'm not the sort who can devote my life to chemistry. I can't be passionate about it... not like I am about writing or art..."

"Then I wish you the best of luck," Dr. Goyette nodded, and reached across to shake her hand. "And I will be happy to write you a recommendation should you need it. I hope you find what you're looking for... Ms. Merin."

"Thank you," she nodded, and rose with a sigh of relief mingled with sadness. Dr. Goyette watched as she turned and left his office, not looking back.

She almost bumped into someone solid and strong when she reached the stairwell, and backed up shyly when she realized it was none other then Paul himself. "Hey baby, did you speak to him?"

"Yes I did... just now..." she nodded.

"Great. What did he say?"

"That he will write a recommendation," she nodded.

"Awesome," Paul smiled, taking her hands. "You see... it will all work out..."

"And get this... Dr. Davis RESIGNED!" Trynia laughed, the band of tightness finally releasing across her chest.

"No way, really?"

"Yes way," she laughed. "He's GONE!"

"Well how about that!" Paul chuckled. "Speak of the devil..."

"Dr. Goyette was trying to convince me to stay. I feel badly not..."

"Well what do you want baby?" Paul asked. "You and I talked about this..."

"I want to come to California with you this weekend. And that's where I'm going. And if... well, I haven't burnt my bridges that are good. But I don't want to leave my friends without a proper goodbye."

"Oh, let's get the rest of the boxes up there and get you packed up," Paul nodded. "C'mon... and you can invite your friends out for dinner, my treat..."

"They'll love that... but no fancy schmancy place. You and I are going to Marita's with them..."

"Terrific," Paul nodded. "Now haul it, and lets get going... we have a lot to do before this weekend!"

Upstairs they walked, moving down the hallway of the third floor to Dr. Goyette's lab. They could hear the noises of conversations, and Trynia peered into the lab. Paul carried the stack of cardboard boxes under his arm, and walked in after her. Melanie and Art looked up from helping to pack Trynia's books and saw the couple enter.

"Tryn, there you are... and hey..." Art shook his head when Paul Stanley himself strode into the lab. "Damn... it's really you?"

"Uh yeah," Paul laughed. "I thought I'd come help my lady pack her desk..."

"Sure," Art got out, trying not to act like an idiot in front of one of his idols. Mel laughed and blushed as Paul carried the boxes over and leaned them up against the desk. He kissed the hand she offered while Art struggled to compose himself and act cool. The last thing Paul probably wanted was to feel singled out at this point.

"You guys REALLY didn't have to do this," Trynia sighed.

"Hey what are friends for?" Mel chimed in. Sharmane poked her head into the lab, dressed in a blue labcoat.

"Tryn, I see you brought your man to see where you've been working," she chuckled. "I just wanna say I loved you in Phantom..."

"Thanks," Paul nodded. Sharmane knew about KISS obviously, but she wasn't gaga like many of the women he had met. Her taste ran for groups like O town, Aerosmith, and Mariah Carey rather then seventies style rock groups. With the exception of the Ramones that is.

"I brought some more boxes... but I see you guys beat me to it," Paul laughed.

"You don't mind do ya? I mean we reuse around here," Art said, looking appreciatively at the stack of moving boxes, neatly flattened and folded, that Paul had brought.

"No problem," Paul nodded. "Whatever's cool with you guys... I was wondering if you'd like to uh... have a drink in honor of your friend... with us..."

"Ah no way really?" Art asked.

"We'd be glad to have you hang with us..." Sharmane cut in. "Uh but where?"

"Wherever you guys hang out," Paul shrugged as casually as he could.

"Marita's?" Trynia suggested.

"Uh well that's a bar... we might be a little..." Art said.

"C'mon he wants to hang," Trynia whispered. "How many young people like us even KNOW who he is? He should be FINE!"

"Would you guys like to catch a ride with us? I mean you could leave Tryn's stuff at the apartment... and then we could all go over together..."

"In who's car?" Mel joked. "Yours?"

"It's an 88 Grand Marquis. I think it'll fit six," Sharmane laughed. "C'mon it'll be fun... and I'll just ask Dwight to tag along."

"Sounds cool to me," Trynia nodded. "You up for it Paul?"

"Sure," he nodded with a grateful smile. Sharmane insisted on treating him just like one of the guys, and that was perfectly fine for him.

Crammed into the back seat of the grand marquis with Mel and Art, Paul chuckled to himself. Sharmane drove, with Dwight next to her. Under his arm was Trynia, and he was pressed a bit close to the door. Mel was up against Trynia, with art on her other side.

"Pretty cozy," Paul whispered to Trynia.

"Hope you don't mind..."

"Mind? This is great," Paul whispered. "I finally get to see what college students do on a Friday night..."

"Grad students," Trynia corrected him.

"Whatever you say sweetheart," Paul laughed as Sharmane pulled into a parking space in a back street a block from Marita's. They all climbed out and headed into the chilly night air, careful not to slip on the slick pavements.

Hand in hand they followed Dwight and Sharmane, with Mel and Art behind them. Everyone laughed and joked on their way to the first floor tavern, rock music pulsating the air ever louder as they approached. Once they reached the door they scoped out the crowded mess inside, in an attempt to look for a vacant table.

"I'll get a table, and scope it out," Dwight offered.

"Sounds good to me," Art agreed. Minutes later Dwight reappeared, shouldering through the mess of people and rejoining them.

"They have a round table in the back, and they hope it will be okay if we cram extra chairs in there..."

"What do you think, Paul?" Trynia asked him.

"That's cool," he nodded. Dwight waved to the hostess, who strode up with a stack of menus. Paul noticed her slim trim figure encased in a black dress and tights, her brown hair curved around her face in a layered bob. She was only twenty-five at the extreme most, more likely in her early twenties. Apart from Art and Trynia, who were the same age, he was the oldest person perhaps there. He'd dressed a little more casual for the situation, button up shirt, nice black jeans with leather belt which matched his shoes, and a knee length leather jacket, hair slicked back just like in his Canadian clothing ad. Most of the young men had short hair or buzz cuts with goatees or sideburns. Art's buzzed hair and goatee blended in, with his leather jacket, thick black framed tinted glasses, and vertical striped bowling shirt. Dwight was blond, tall with metal framed glasses, short hair and clean shaven face with just a little bit of down on his chin, Dockers and casual button up shirt, tan in color with a t shirt underneath. Sharmane wore dark charcoal gray pants, a knit red top, which exposed her midriff, her hair in multiple braids, and platform loafers. Mel's curly hair was slicked and plastered to the sides of her head, long black skirt with a slit up to her knee along one side, white shirt under a cardigan that was buttoned only at the top button. Trynia's own floral print dress and cardigan that hung past her knees looked a bit more Beverly hills then the east coast, but still fit the spectrum of fashion he saw before him.

He noticed the young bartender, and a few older people peppering the crowd of youth. It was amazing to see the similarities and differences in fashion. Many of the men who were bare armed had long streaks of black tribal tattoos, and some of the girls even had an occasional half belt peeking out from under a short top, or one on their ankle or wrist. A proliferation of belly rings, multiple piercing on ears, and even the nose ring or stud were not uncommon. It made Paul feel rather conservative with his dual pierced ears and his own single rose tattoo. Such things would be unheard of when he was a teenager.

"What's that song?" he asked Trynia.

"Alien Ant farm's Annie are you okay!" Dwight laughed.

"Talk about a Michael Jackson rip off," Paul joked. Dwight grinned and slipped out a chair for Sharmane, who sat down first, followed by Art who had also pulled out a chair. Paul smiled when he noticed chivalry was not dead.

Paul and Art grabbed some chairs from the back and pushed them in for the guys to sit, and they all crowded in as best they could. "Okay, what's your poison of choice man?" Art asked Dwight. "You Paul? They've got coronas..."

"Sounds interesting," Paul nodded, perusing the menu. They started a discussion about wines, and Art found out what the ladies wanted. The young waiter got their drink and appetizer choices, and soon came back with 2 coronas for Mel and Art, a Zima for Sharmane, a Coors Light for Dwight, and two white zinfandels for Paul and Trynia.

"Let's get the sampler..." Sharmane suggested.

"High caloric toxins beware!" Trynia joked.

"I bet the calories leak out with the cheese," Paul joked, and everyone chuckled as a plate of mozzarella sticks and jalapeno poppers was ordered.

To Paul's delight, few people stopped to stare. The young set was a place he could move invisibly, except for the stares of some women in their direction. He noticed a young woman brush playfully past Dwight and Art, ignoring him entirely except for a strange sidelong glance. For a change, he wasn't the object of any more admiration or staring then anyone else. At this, he didn't know whether to be flattered or insulted, or somewhere in between, so he chose to simply relax and enjoy the anonymity.

"Here we go, an order of samplers, for the couple, the hot wings for the lady and her dad, and buttered popcorn for the other stunning young couple..." the waiter started, handing the entrée to Paul, who winced a little. She pushed a plate of nachos down in front of art and Melanie.

"He's my boyfriend," Trynia quickly corrected.

"Whoops I'm so sorry," the waitress apologized. "Damn..."

"Don't' worry," Paul said. "Her professor thought the same thing..."

"Damn, it's not my night," she laughed nervously. "I just hope I look that good when I get to be your age..."

Before she could say anything else, Art said, "Uh, can we order our food now?"

"Sure..." she said, glad for the change in subject as her face flushed. Quickly she wrote down their requests.

"A cheese steak for me," Art said, then turned to Melanie.

"Crab cakes and order of fries..."

"I'll have the chicken Caesar salad," Trynia said. "You love?"

"I'll give this chicken Parmesan a shot," Paul nodded politely, to show there were no hard feelings. Dwight and Sharmane ordered the house burgers and fries, with more Corona each to wash down their food.

"I'm sorry about that Paul," Trynia flushed.

"I think the waitress is embarrassed enough, love, I'm cutting her a break," Paul laughed good-naturedly.

"Besides, you're a handsome catch, Dad," Sharmane teased Paul. He nudged her flirtatiously, and pushed the jalapeno poppers toward her and Dwight. Picking one up, she held it out for Dwight. Right from her fingers he nibbled it, licking the cheese that bubbled out of it off her fingers.

"Hey those are ours!" Trynia whispered to Paul.

"I think they needed a little spice in their life, don't you?" Paul chuckled conspiratorially at Trynia, and selected a hot wing, holding it up for her to nibble on. She took a tentative bite, and chewed on it thoughtfully. A second later she was coughing, waving her hand in front of her face.

"Whoa, that's... spicy!" she gasped, coughing as Paul pushed a glass of water in front of her and slapped her helpfully on the back.

"Hey, don't sit across from me, Tryn," Art teased. "I don't want to get singed if you pull a Gene Simmons firebreathing here!"

"VERRY funny," Trynia groaned, and tossed a hot wing in his general direction.

"Hey, I'm supposed to eat it, not wear it, girl!" Art laughed back, picking up the offending entree and tossing it onto his plate. Dabbing it in some of the cheddar cheese before him, he immersed it before biting into it.

"How about some nachos with that, Mr. Smooth move," Mel laughed, grabbing the plate and shoving it before him. "You almost cost yourself a dry cleaning bill. And you KNOW us poor grad students are on a budget..."

"Before we make the big bucks we have to pay our Mac and cheese dues!" Art laughed back. "Right Shar, Try? Guys?"

"I lived off Raman's pride in my day," Paul joked. "And a half dozen eggs here and there. The crates made AWESOME acoustic tiles... for the studio..."

"You'll have to remember that, Art, next time you wanna record any demos in the apartment," Dwight joked. "And you'll have to eat PLENTY of eggs man with the volume you play at!"

"Shaddup you," Sharmane scolded. "You're crushing his artistic muse, man!"

"What are you bitching about, you're not sharing an apartment with him," Mel shook a mozzarella stick at Dwight with a fake glare, eyes twinkling.

"Oh, well some people don't' have that privilege, sweetheart," Dwight laughed back. "God forbid you should miss an artist in his pre-discovered stage!"

"Is that artist or ARTEEEST?" Paul chuckled.

"WHAT?" Mel asked. "I didn't hear anybody... I'm a little deaf..."

"Very funny Hon," Art groaned, tickling her ribs playfully. She squealed and smacked him on his arm.

"Okay, everyone's a critic, right?" Sharmane said, resting her head on her hand. "I guess you missed your calling love..."

"Ouch!" Dwight grinned, pretending to put a hand over his chest at an invisible jab from his girlfriend.

"Remember that there is a nice fat couch you can sleep on tonight if you don't watch it," Sharmane winked at him, seizing the last jalapeno popper from under his nose. Paul fed Trynia a mozzarella stick, when Sharmane pushed the plate before them both. Dwight shook his head and chuckled at her game, snagging a hot wing from Trynia and Paul's plate when they weren't looking.

"Your friends are a riot," Paul whispered to Trynia. "Thanks for suggesting this love..."

"The fun has just begun," she winked at Paul.

***

It wasn't long before the food was out, and everyone was digging into his or her dishes with anticipation. Amidst chat and joking, they sampled each other's food and drinks. Paul relaxed and forgot just who he was, and the fact that he would be at the AMA and face an uncertain future. It was easy to forget, to relax into the laughing youths who were filing in and out of the bar, watching the Eagles-Ram game on the television set high over the corners of Marita's.

"Say, you guys like dancing?" Paul asked.

"You kidding man, I know a great club... down in Maniyunk... that's only less then half an hour from here..."

"Maniyunk?" Paul chuckled.

"Hey, it's one of those Native American names," Mel laughed.

"You know, it probably means some silly thing in their tongue," Dwight quipped.

"Like buffalo tongue?" Sharmane further teased.

"Speaking of buffalo, why don't' we stampede outta here?" Paul joked.

"Okay, I'll flag down the waitress..." Dwight laughed, and waved to the girl as she came nervously by again. She set the small plastic tray down, and Paul quickly reached for it, narrowly missing grabbing it between Dwight and Art.

"Hey give it to the computational chemist," Art joked, shoving it toward Sharmane. "Now, how much do we all owe..."

"It's my treat..." Paul was about to say before Trynia stepped on his foot.

"Don't ruin it," she whispered in his ear, kissing it softly. "This is how we do things in grad school..."

"But honey..."

"It's okay," she whispered. "Let it go Paul..."

"Why don't I put it on my card, and you guys can all pay me," Dwight suggested.

"Sure, if that's what you want," said Paul reluctantly.

"Sounds good to me," art nodded, catching Trynia's wink. They all dug into their pockets as Dwight pulled out his billfold and extracted his American Express. Sharmane used a red pen stolen from the lab to figure out everyone's share.

Paul hid his wallet out of view of everyone on his knee, folding out the smallest bill he had, a twenty before tossing it onto the table. Mel pulled out a few singles, and Art gripped her hand before she could put them in, but she moved his hand aside. Sharmane threw down a ten and some loose change, while Trynia put in a few fives. Dwight handed the lady his card, and took the money collected on the table with a grin and nod to everyone.

"You see that wasn't so hard," Trynia whispered to Paul.

"Hey, that's nice for a change," Paul nodded back, grateful how it was assumed everyone would pay there share without expecting him to foot the bill. How refreshing. Once the waitress came back with her slip, Dwight signed with a flourish, and Sharmane looked at the slip shaking her head.

"Dwight S. Lionel the III, what is that?" she teased.

"I'm practicing my signature," he said matter of fact, slipping his card back into his wallet, along with the money. Paul chuckled, and Art stood up first, offering his hand to his date.

"Shall we mosey along peoples?" Paul asked.

"Let's do it to it! We've got a night of partying to get down to," Sharmane nodded.

"No Chinese Fire drill this time," Mel held up a hand.

"As you wish dear," Art said, wrapping an arm around his girl's waist. Paul took Trynia's hand, giving it a squeeze as they followed the other two couples out into the night. He stopped for a moment.

"Just a second," Paul said, and peered at the slip on the table. He quickly flagged down the waitress, and whispered something to her.

"Sure, I'll do it," she nodded, as he put a one hundred dollar bill into her hand. "It wont' be too hard to recredit the account..."

"Thanks love," Paul winked. "Keep the change..."

Trynia turned back, rushing in to find where Paul had gone. Sharmane pulled out her keys, unlocking the door as Paul and Trynia joined them.

"What took you?" Dwight laughed. "Forget your jacket man?"

"Yeah," Paul nodded, opening the door for Trynia. She glanced at him suspiciously, wondering where he'd gone. Gently he nudged her inside, getting in and closing the door as they crammed into the back seat once more. Pleased at his good deed done unseen by the others, Paul slipped his arm around Trynia. Sharmane pumped up the radio, turning on 102.1 to a dance mix. Laughs rang through the large car as they pulled out onto the main road to drive onto I 76 toward Maniyunk and a night of dancing.

One by one, they held out their ID cards for the bouncer at the door. Curtly he nodded at each person, letting the long line enter. He stopped one particular slender girl, much to Paul's amusement, and pointed toward the parking lot. Huffing she stormed off on high heeled feet toward her other friends.

"Tough break for that tootsie," Sharmane whispered to Dwight.

"I guess she learned that you don't leave the fake id at home..."

"Dwight," Mel groaned. "You're a BAD influence!"

"Hey, it's their screw up," he chuckled back. He reached the door first, brandishing his ID before the guard.

Paul chuckled," I wonder if I need to show mine..."

"They might well card you, you never know," Trynia teased back.

"C'mon in ladies and enjoy the drinks! It's dollar drafts for the women, and mixed drinks are all 2 dollars for all couples for Seventies night," the other greeter and bouncer at the door laughed. Paul winced at his bell-bottoms and loud paisley shirt with the pooka bead necklace.

"Talk about flashback," Paul chuckled to Trynia.

"We'll scope out a table, you guys get us some drinks, and the rest can stow the coats by the coat check," art suggested.

"It's LADIES NIGHT... and we will do it right," pulsated through the discotheque. Dwight and Sharmane spun out onto the floor, dancing toward the bar by way of the electric slide. Mel and Art disappeared along the ring of tables on an upper level, with Paul and Trynia splitting off with everyone's coats.

"Want to dance?" Paul asked Trynia, when they had handed over their items.

"You sure? I mean..."

"I took some ibuprofen," he said quickly. "And anyway, we can't let Dwight and Shar have all the fun, can we?"

Overtop of Ladies Night, Staying Alive suddenly mixed with an updated techno beat interlaced. Strobes and disco balls spun multicolored lights across the dancing throng. "I'm warning you I'm not that great," Trynia laughed.

"Here, I'll show you an authentic Eisen seventies step that make me look like I knew what I was doing," he joked, pulling her onto the floor. Positioning her beside him, he held her hand to guide her. She glanced down, noticing the pattern his feet were producing, and attempted to duplicate it. Paul was genuinely pleased at how easily she picked up the pattern.

Dwight and Sharmane spun past them, each carrying a rack of drinks. Stopping Sharmane called, "Hey! We're being signaled..."

"Let 'em dance!" Dwight laughed. "They know what they're doing!"

One song blurred into the next, which was I will Survive, by Gloria Gainor. Trynia had the first dance down well enough that Paul opted to show her a second. This time they continued facing each other, among the forest of twenty something dancers. Throughout her whole body the pulse pounded, infusing her soul with its magic. Paul made it seem so easy she laughed to herself.

Finally they broke during YMCA by the Village People, and made their way over to where Art was waving them. Other people whistled and clapped as Paul and Trynia left the floor. Trynia blushed when she realized that they had gathered an audience.

Panting, Trynia waited for Paul to tug out a chair for her and gently help her into it. He settled in next to her, sweat glistening on his forehead to mach the dampness she felt accumulating on her own chest and face.

"You are a DANCING queen, girl!" Art teased her. "I saw you burning up that floor in that little disco inferno!"

"Next time Abba's on, you HAVE to show me some moves for that, Paul," Mel nudged him. "Where did you learn to DANCE?"

"Just because someone plays rock doesn't mean they don't have an appreciation for disco," Dwight broke in. "Anyway, at least it's not rap..."

"Watch it," Shar pretended to scold. She pushed a small glass of wine cooler before Trynia, and one before Paul, saying, "I know it's good not to mix drinks, so I got both of you guys some wine spritzers."

"Thanks," Paul said, and reached for his wallet. Extracting a twenty, he lay it in front of her.

"You don't have to..."

"Yes I do. This is for the round you guys laid out," Paul insisted.

"Thanks man," Art nodded.

"Look they have a karioke machine!" Mel gasped and pointed. Each person spoke in a yell over the deafening din.

"I wonder when they're going to fire that baby up?" Paul wondered.

"I say each of us gives it a shot," Art winked. "But all professional and aspiring professionals are disqualified..."

"Sounds fair to me," Paul chuckled. "Where do we sign up?"

"There's the list. I say we get the ladies to each sing a song for their men," Art grinned. Mel and Sharmane looked at each other, exchanging a mischievous grin. They both looked to Trynia, who blushed.

"I couldn't."

"C'mon sweets you have to," Paul teased. "Here's twenty for the karioke. Pick something fun..."

"It has to be Seventies!" Dwight called after the girls as they walked over to the signup table.

"What are you going to pick Shar?" Trynia asked.

"It's Raining Men," she winked.

"I'm going with Dancing Queen, since you and Paul were such a disco inferno," said Mel, nudging Trynia playfully. Shar reached the table first; reaching for her purse before Trynia thrust Paul's twenty into their hands.

"I got this one covered gals. On me..."

"Thanks Try, you're a sweetie," Shar laughed. To enter the contest was five dollars per entrant, and a tape would be made for the 'memory' of the event. Minutes later they made their way back to the table, to wait for their name to be announced.

***

"That was Sharmane and Mel singing It's Raining Men," the announcer chuckled. Everyone clapped and whistled at the comedic duo. Shar and Mel had decided to quench their mutual nervousness by ganging up together instead of singing individual songs.

"Now, our second entry is Trynia, singing Tonight You Belong to Me, by KISS, off Paul Stanley's solo album," said the announcer. Flushing, Trynia rose and mounted the little stage. A tape of the music began to play, the words popping up on a video screen for her to see before her.

Paul was floored with her choice, somewhat amused as she began to sing. Dark eyes fixed the audience in their spell, a powerful alto voice delivering the lyrics he knew so well. Art shifted forwards in his chair to listen, Dwight leaning back and grasping Sharmane's hand. Everyone, who was expecting a silly rendition, was blown away with the serious performance facing him or her. Up until then every song was an off key parody, but this was the exact opposite. The dark haired girl with the soulful expression was baring her soul in the tradition of the song's composer. Hurling a piece of herself into the audience that floored Paul with its force and woefulness.

"Whoa, damn," he whispered, desire building for her. "She's good... I never realized..."

The rest of the night blurred into a comfortable haze of drinks and fellowship. At that moment, he had tasted a piece of what his fans must have feasted upon so many times when he stood before them. By the time she finished and stepped down to collect her tape, she hear a round of applause from the stunned and nonplussed onlookers.

For a moment, she felt her face flame with embarrassment. Had she made a spectacle of herself? When she saw Paul rise from his chair and hold out his arms to her, she felt momentary relief. Especially when he folded her into a strong embrace and guided her back to the table.

"Damn girl, you really kicked ass with that one," Art laughed, patting her shoulder. "Good going..."

"Wow, she really can sing can't she?" Mel muttered, realizing she had never heard Trynia actually sing.

"If that doesn't win I don't know what does," Dwight laughed.

"Well here's another bunch," Shar pointed to the stage.

"That was AWESOME, sweets," Paul whispered into Trynia's ear. "Holy crap I mean I had no idea you sang so beautifully baby."

"Well, it just... aww you're embarrassing me," she continued to mumble, grinning with awkwardness despite the shower of compliments.

"Don't be," Paul chuckled, kissing her cheek.

Around one, they all decided it was high time to return home. Piling into Sharmane's car, they headed back toward Villanova. Stopping only to drop art and Mel off, they drove straight back to her apartment.

Sharmane pulled up to the parking spot alongside where Paul and Trynia had left their car. Leaning back she asked, "You guys wanna crash at my apartment? I mean it is like 2 am..."

"You sure we wouldn't be interrupting anything?" Paul asked.

"Like what?" Dwight winked at Sharmane who playfully growled back.

"There's still your room Tryn," Sharmane said, climbing out of the car. Paul got out first, and then rushed around to open the door for Trynia. They had dropped Mel and Art back at their apartment on the way back.

"Hey that would be great," Trynia nodded. "You mind staying here tonight Paul? It's either that or fall asleep behind the wheel... and well..."

"Thanks Sharmane," Paul smiled, slipping his arm around Trynia's waist.

Upstairs they trotted, into the cool quiet of the apartment. It was stark contrast to the noisy club, and their ears still buzzed with residual music.

"If you guys need to borrow sleep stuff let us know," said Dwight. "I gotta few t shirts..."

"Thanks man," Paul laughed. "But I don't think we'll need much more to sleep in then a bed..."

"Hah ha," Dwight groaned. "You hear that Shar?"

"Uh huh," Shar nodded. "Bedroom's that way, bathroom down the hall, and you guys have first crack at it cause you're company. Thanks SO much for coming out with us Paul. And see you in the morning. Have Fun and don't' stay up TOO late..."

"Gnite Shar," Trynia smiled, and hugged her friend. Dwight grabbed a T-shirt from the basket of freshly folded laundry sitting on the couch. He tossed it to Paul, while Trynia strode down the hall toward her room. Paul had only been in here a few times before.

"Take care man, and great having you hang with us, we should do it again," Dwight said, slapping Paul on the shoulder. "You're a pretty normal guy after all."

"Thanks, I think," Paul laughed. "you're not so bad yourself..."

"Go get busy," Dwight nodded toward Trynia, who had just opened the door to her room.

"Coming sweets," Paul laughed, and strode over toward the entrance of the room at the far end of the hall.

"If you need a shave or something, there's disposable and stuff in the bathroom. Help yourself," Dwight nodded. He turned and entered the other bedroom, crossing through the small living room to do so.

"I'll be right there honey. I just need a shave and freshening up," Paul said. "Unless you wanna go first.."

"that would be great," Trynia nodded. Paul smiled as she walked past him and disappeared into the bathroom. He pushed open the door to her room, or what had once been her room. Not much had changed from when he remembered leaving her those months ago, except a few less items on the wall. Gone were all her KISS posters, replaced with Nagel women prints which were Sharmane's, and a few of her paintings.

He nudged her closet open, and saw the clothes that still hung there. A few nice tops which were perhaps three or four years old, some folded sweaters, inexpensive slacks, and pairs of nice leather shoes, very practical. All remnants of the Trynia before Paul, left behind in case she should desire to return. Why had she not bothered to pack them, he wondered.

"Bathroom's yours, honey," she said, standing at the door.

"Great," he nodded with a smile. She tossed him two towels, freshly laundered, one pink with green flowers on it, the other maroon in color.

***

Trynia lay back on the soft white comforter, her bed freshly made with the green sheets that had served her since college. What had once seemed familiar and cozy seemed a bit small and alien, cramped like a space capsule on an unknown space voyage. How had her world expanded so fast that her own familiar things seemed strange?

She tugged on a loose extra large T-shirt, Merinos, and a pair of VILLNAOVA sweat pants, for it was chilly. She heard the bathroom door open, and saw the square of light click off. Footsteps sounded in the hall, and she sat down on the edge of the bed, unsure of the emptiness that rose inside her now.

"Tryn, hon, what's wrong? You've been sort of quiet tonight.," Paul asked, walking into the room with a T-shirt over his arm. He threw it down next to her on the bed, and then rested a hand on her shoulder.

"I well... have been thinking about things..."

"What things, honey?" he asked, sitting down next to her on the full bed.

"You know...I always thought I'd stay here and graduate with these people. But here I am, running from my problems."

"Honey, you aren't..." Paul rested a hand on hers, squeezing it gently.

"you faced up to that jerk..."

"Paul... it's just that everyone expected me to finish this, and now I'm doing what I never said I would... leaving Villanova..."

"Well...yeah....but it's not like you're leaving chemistry altogether. You're just bringing your talents to a sunnier climate." he teased lightly.

"Oh yes I know," she sighed, giving a sad smile.

"Besides, hon, I'm sure there are plenty of great people out there who you'll love just as much."

"I only hope I can make friends like here..." she muttered, turning away from him for a moment. "I love these people and I feel like I'm abandoning them."

"Sure, you will. You'll make lots of friends," Paul said, rising from the bed and standing right before her.

"Well I won't have the excuse of getting stuck in snow again."

Paul looked at her for a bit, taking both her hands in his, "This IS what you want to do, love? We're still on the same page, right?"

"Yes we are..." she said. "I just got nostalgic, that's all."

Leaning over, Paul pressed a kiss to her forehead, "Good."

"I WANT to be with you."

"Tryn, just don't get down on yourself about this," Paul urged, slowly unbuttoning his shirt. He strode over to the mirror that hung on the wall, floor length to reveal all his frame in the dim gold light of the single lamp. "You're leaving behind a great group of friends, but there's nothing that says they can't come out and see you in LA"

"Oh... you mean that?" Trynia asked anxiously. Paul stood with his back to her, continuing to unbutton his shirt. He tugged the tail out and slipped the thin material down his muscular arms. She drew in her breath at the sight of his strong biceps now revealed from behind, his back still sheathed in a white sleeveless undershirt.

"They're always welcome at our house," he added. "Absolutely! Any time."

"They might need a little... leverage getting here..." she winked at him, knowing he could glimpse her reflection over his shoulder in the mirror. "They are poor grad students... Contrary to what you've seen tonight we can't eat out every night. Sometimes we order Chinese takeout and a few videos."

He smiled back, "I'm one step ahead of you. It's been years since I've been in that position, but I still remember it like it was yesterday."

"Well, just for that you and I get the luxury suite at Chez Sharmane..." she laughed, patting the bed. Crossing his arms above his head he tugged his undershirt up and off in one fluid motion.

"And speaking of your friend. Tell him not to look too hard for that restaurant bill to hit his credit card."

"Wait a minute... you didn't..."

"Sweetie, I just couldn't walk away and let some poor grad students put down their money for a meal, when I'm sitting there with a wallet stuffed with bills," Paul admitted, tossing his undershirt to the side. He turned around to face her again, striding over toward the bed.

"Aww you are too sweet," she sighs, leaning over to kiss him.

"I didn't want to embarrass you in front of your friends. I just wanted to.... I guess...treat everyone," Paul muttered, leaning over to untie his shoes. He kicked them off and pushed them to the side.

"Well, I am glad that you did it the way you did..." Trynia said. "And didn't embarrass poor Dwight S. Lionel III..."

He laughed and grinned, "I'm glad to do it. I didn't want to come off like some kind of rich ass boyfriend of yours who comes into town and juggles his wallet in everyone's faces. Plus, I could tell you were feeling a little down. Just call it Starchild intuition."

"You did it with perfect finesse," she laughs, turning down the comforter on the full bed. She noticed the T-shirt he had tossed down onto the bed, and seized it before he could grab it.

"Hey, that's my high class sleepwear sweets..." he joked.

"Now... I see you borrowed that Linkin Park T shirt from Dwight... He keeps a stash here when he plays sleepover with Shar..."

"And don't you EVEN go telling Mr. Simmons I was seen with a Linkin Park T-shirt, little missy," Paul asked.

"What is my incentive, mister?" she teased, climbing into one side of the bed.

"Well, I have to say.....I DID notice you dancing and teasing me on that stage."

"Well, I couldn't resist. It was BEGGING to be done..." she bats her eyelashes at him.

"And I was sort of wondering when you were going to bring some of that good stuff up close and personal right here," Paul chuckled, and winked sexily at her. Demurely she pulled the comforter and sheets up to her chest. He slid a hand under the comforter.

"What's this? SHY, all of a sudden?" Paul teased.

"Well, two can play that game," she grinned. "And aren't you overdressed for bed, Mister?"

"Hmm I wonder what can be done about that," Paul winked again. He turned with his back to her, lifting his arms to stretch lazily, and began to slowly work at his belt. He stopped for a moment, catching a glimpse of his face in the mirror. Mumbling he rubbed his chin, "Hon, do you think I should grow a beard?"

"Uh, don't you dare!" she scolded, from the distance of the bed. "That works on Gene, but not you. I saw the pictures... and if you even HIDE that lovely chin..."

"Maybe it would make me look.....younger somehow. Or at the very least, more dangerous looking." he chuckled.

"Ohh c'mon don't start that," she groaned. "You should let your hair grow again though."

"You think so? I thought you liked it short."

"I did... but I also love it long..." she chuckled and shook her head. "I just... love immersing my hands in it... it's so sexy."

"Sooooo, my little princess loves it long. Hmm. That could be taken a NUMBER of ways."

"Hmmm, take what you can get," she winks saucily at him, patting the bed beside her.

"Hmmm. Maybe longer hair and a five o' clock shadow," he said absent-mindedly, still half looking in the mirror.

"I always fantasized making love to you in this bed," she said huskily, hoping to snap him out of a possible trip into a midlife crisis. "When I had that poster of you hanging there... across from me..."

"The only thing with Revenge is the hair was....uhhhhh, what was that about the bed?" Paul asked, jolted out of his musings by her sudden shift in conversation topic. Bless her heart, he grinned inwardly.

"I'd lay here and imagine that you were riding that trapeze toward me..." Trynia continued. He turned around, a devious smile on his face.

"Go on, baby. Which poster was it?" he asked.

"walk over to that closet and open it. Reach in, and get that poster frame. Put it up on the dresser," she ordered, voice low and sultry.

Reaching into her dark closet, he probed for the corner of a hard frame. Fingers contacted along an edge, grabbing it and extracting a 24 by 36-inch poster in an inexpensive frame. When he rested it out and placed it on the dresser he couldn't help but smile. Boot hooked through a ring, the Starchild extended his hands toward the audience, guitar balanced over his shoulder. Backlit by violet spotlight, he seemed to float in an amethyst cloud.

"I FORGOT this was here... Shar framed it for me while I was gone." She nodded.

"Ohh, a visual aid? This is getting better and better." He chuckled a bit, "God love that damn trapeze. You wouldn't BELIEVE how many times I worked with the crew to get that whole thing moving just right. It still stalled on me a time or two."

"I remember," she laughed. "Seeing some footage of you, and Gene singing your song..."

"You would THINK the man would learn at least SOME of the lyrics over the years, even if by osmosis."

"well, he isn't perfection like you..." Trynia said very matter of fact, twinkling eyes betraying her teasing. Gently, she slipped under the covers and then peeled a corner of the comforter and sheets back. Paul still stood there next to his two dimensional likeness with a gleam of his own in those deep eyes.

"Now, Ms. Merin, my rock star bat radar is telling me that I just MIGHT have a sexy lady coming on to me right now." Paul pretended to muse, deep in mock thought.

"Oh really?" she winked. "And what clued you in about that Smarty?"

"Well, you KNOW, when I was just a baby, my momma sat me on her knee..." he purred. "And well.....she told me allllll about you pretty women."

"If you talk about moving on I know a very fat couch with your name on it," Trynia scolded, wagging a warning finger at her. "And there's not much room on it if Dwight is already occupying it..."

At this he laughed deeply, "Oh, God, Stanley, you didn't think that one through, did you? Guess I'm going to have to beg my way back off the couch and into your nice warm bed."

"Hmm that could work..." she smiled, watching as he fell to his knees and prostrated himself out of sight.

"Very interesting... the God of Thunder is kneeling before the daughter of Aphrodite tonight."

"Yes," he nodded, head popping into view. He began to crawl toward the bed, crossing the space between the dresser and its foot, not loosing eye contact.

"And this bed is hotter then hell, people," she said, imitating his accent. "Hmmm, I think you're overdressed for the occasion..."

"Au contraire, my dear. Tis you who are wayyy over dressed. You forget how quickly I can loose these pants in an emergency," he laughed, and climbed up onto the foot of the bed, swinging his legs up and keeping his body pressed toward the comforter. Rising up he knelt at the foot, hands reaching for the belt teasingly slowly.

"And if you lose your pants, will you lose your mind?" she asked, raising an eyebrow in interest. "Or make me lose mine?"

Still on his knees, Paul slipped his finger into his mouth, gently licking it. Trynia licked her lips and straghtened up on the bed in anticipation. Slowly she panted, "Yikes I do believe you are serious Mr. Stanley."

"Consider any remnants of that pretty little mind now officially gone," he whispered, scooting slowly toward her at the head of the bed.

"I'm doomed," she mock groaned, hand over her chest. Behind him, the Starchild reached out toward her with his hand extended, in direct contrast to the reality that stalked her now.

He reached into the pocket of his jeans and slipped something into his hand. A dark eyed stare pinned her in her spot, heart pounding despite herself. Clutching it between thumb and forefinger he rested it on his palm and held it up for her to see, "Soooo, my gorgeous dark eyed groupie, this pick here? Just exactly how did you obtain it, if I may ask?"

She shivers, goose bumps on her skin, as she choked, "Uh... well... if you must know..."

He moved it between his fingers and thumb, then lightly tossed it up in the air to catch it seconds later. Not breaking that stare he whispered, "I must..."

"I... was in the fifth row... slightly on Gene's side... and you were throwing them out... and my brother fought some other guy off and gave it to me..."

"Uh-huh...." he answered, still fingering the pick thoughtfully with his long guitarist fingers. "Fiifth row. Not quite close enough to get it from me in my VERY special way. Do you know what that VERY SPECIAL way is?"

"What would that be?" she asked, breathless, her mouth dry. Dark eyes still stared right at her. Goosebumps erupted over her skin, a wave of thrill shivering her spine. He broke eye contact to examine the pick in his palm, then placed it delicately on his tongue.

Closer and closer he inched toward her, on hands and knees. Reflexively she covered her breast and hugs herself, shivering with sexual desire for him. He wiggled his finger at her to urge her closer. Trynia pulled aside the blankets and moves slightly forward. A waft of pungent spice assaulted her nostrils, wisps of Old Spice or strong musk. That smell always evoked a fresh clean image of shower stalls and steam condensing on glass doors that echoed with passion.

Again he beckoned her closer, pointing to his lips. Closing her eyes she inhaled his musk, moving to meet him midway on the bed's center. Fingertips brushed her lips first, shivering jolts of electricity that popped her eyes open. He touched his lips next, mahogany gaze drawing all her attention to the vision just before her.

Trynia shivered violently, moaning softly. Those dark eyes still captured her, making it so hard to move. His pants seemed to noticeably tighten at hearing her moan. Gently he touched her chin to open her mouth slightly. Trynia parted her lips, leaning back as her will deserted her. Lips touched as Paul placed his mouth over hers. In one fluid motion he flicked the pick lightly from his tongue to her own

Blood rushed and hammered through her ears. Her hands brushed over his bare shoulders, tracing down the soft fur on his hard muscled chest. Parting from the motion, she fell backward onto the bed, groaning.

Paul crawled overtop her, softly plucking the pick from her tongue and slipping it to the bedside table. Plunging his tongue into her mouth he rubbed his desire against her. Up and down his back she rubbed her hands, vigorously massaging the powerful muscles there.

"Now, you see, only my most special of fans get that kind of treatment," he whispered to her, arms pressed to either side of her arms to lift himself off her body lightly

"Ooh yes..." she whispered, rubbing his chest and breathing into his ear. She drew her tongue over his earlobe and sucked on it, nibbling on his earrings. Reaching between them she rubbed her hand over the tightening bulge in his pants. He yelped a bit, because he loved having his ears kissed and caressed. Trynia chuckled and continued to nibble on his ears softly, rubbing harder.

"Hmmm, now this is the kind of fan adulation I could get used to." He moaned. "Just don't want to disappoint my little Kiss Army recruit."

"You could Never disappoint me Mr. Stanley," she whispered. "You aren't packing a mere pistol mister..."

"Ahhhh, you are a sweetheart," he cooed, slowly rubbing up and down her legs. "I don't nearly come close to deserving you."

Putting her hands on his belt, she very slowly unfastened it. He hesitated for just a bit, and sighed, "Condoms....I don't know if I have....."

"I have some..." she whispered. "On the nightstand. Shar left 'em there last time Dwight was over."

Grinning, he nodded toward the table, "After you, ma'am."

"Hope the drug store Trojans are ok," she jokes, reaching for one. "We're on a budget here... with the fast Mac... and ramen noodles."

She handed him the wrapped condom. He hands it back to her, weaving seductively over her, "I'm feeling VERY vulnerable right now. I think I just might need some help".

"Hmmm let me see..." she whispered and gently unzipped his pants. In amusement and arousal, he watched. For a few minutes she gently caresses him through the fabric of his underwear, and then pushed his pants down his hips.

"Don't mind me, " he teased, "I'll just sit here and admire your technique."

"Hmm," she chuckled, wrestling his pants off the rest of the way.

"And well, I'd admire these two while I'm at it," he said. Leaning over he began to rub her breasts through the soft cotton of her shirt. Taking notice of the shirt for the first time he chuckled, "Merino's Pizzeria. I wonder what dad would......uhhhhh.....OOPS. Damn, Paul!"

"That's all right lover. Not even thinking of DAD will spoil the mood."

"What I meant to say was, 'nice shirt'. And 'my compliments on the goodies contained therein'"

"Mmm," she laughed, and tugged at his underwear playfully. "Speaking of.."

"Baby, are you getting ready to tell little old me how much you really and truly want me?" Paul chuckled. He snaked back and forth, kissing her neck, her forehead, her chest. Trailing his tongue lightly over her neck, he pulled up her shirt. She raised her arms over her head when he tickled her sides, and stripped the garment and tossed it down next to his discarded pants.

"Hmm could be. And there is nothing 'little or old' about you love."

"College hangout waitresses notwithstanding," he teased back, lying on top of her. As so many times before the feel of his chest hair against her sensitive skin sent shivers all over her body. Trynia gently rolled him over onto his back, feeling the urgency of his hard passion.

He watched breathlessly, as she ripped open the package, and slipped the contents into her mouth. Leaning down, she trailed her hair over his thighs. He did not stifle his groan, hand enclosing on the back of her neck to push her downwards. Overtop of him she enclosed her lips, working gradually down over firmness that intensified at her moist mouth's embrace.

"Now that's talented sweets," he gritted through his teeth, fingers entwining in her hair. For a few minutes, she pleasured him, before lifting her head and sitting up once more. Paul reached under him and peeled the covers back, grasping her hips and guiding her to lie alongside him. Enveloping both of them in the white comforter, he rolled over with her into the yielding mattress. As he entered her, she gasped out in passion. If she stared past his shoulder, she could glimpse the starchild again reaching out to her. Safe in the comforts of her old familiar bed, she let her passionate cry ring out as Paul made passionate love to her. All that she had desired was now within her grasp, lovemaking in the confines of her old life a reference point to what she had now gained. There was no going home again, and she knew that this was no longer her home now more then ever before. Home had become alongside of this wonderful man she loved, whose excitement exploded inside her now, their merged kiss sealing their renewed pledge.