Josh was aware of the risks associated with entering a transient place of communal bathing. Many still believed in baptism and seekers would follow him to hear the voice of the Father. He had no choice. There was nowhere to hide but in the Bethesda pools of Harlem.
A voice of not so sound judgement whispered over his shoulder seductively. The devil made him want more. His legs moved quickly and his arms swayed in unison with his stride. The voice that nobody else could hear was whispering again. What did the demons want this time? How long would the torment keep him up and about, unable to sleep? Josh accepted the fact that a chip surgically stitched inside the walls of his anus was implanted permanently. No alien probing was done. City health officials made the medical decision to brand him for the benefit of the masses. Josh was made a robot sex slave.
For centuries, major religions of the world taught that homosexuality was a sin. On its knees at the end though, mankind forgot its first love.
Josh made the best of his situation. Something was luring him to Harlem. He couldn’t remain in one place. An energy like that of a constant orgasm electrified every nerve within his body. Legs had to keep moving to keep the pressure at bay. What was calling him up here? There is no rest for a man with an electronic womb.
Running on empty and in need of an emotional recharge, Josh was out to serve again. It is better to serve than to be served, or so he mumbled in what little sleep came drifting his way on occasion. Rarely did the lids over his eyes stop fluttering. In Harlem, the element of danger lurked everywhere, yet not an trinket of fear crossed Josh’s racing mind. If only death were possible. If only he could be afraid again.
Lights twinkled on every corner, some red, a few green and short bursts of yellow sparks lit up the city as fireflies on a July evening. As kisses in the wind, the traffic lights appeared like stained glass filtering Sunday morning rays across empty church pews to Josh. The essence of the dark neighborhood with lights that winked back made his heart thump deep inside. Nobody was going to hurt him because they couldn’t. He was one of twelve, rulers of a colony, an essential element to the very survival of the human race.
Erect in a pair of tight jeans he strolled across Third Avenue, not one bit concerned because he was white. Josh hungered for seed, fresh from the offspring of Mother Africa. Only with his fill would he sleep and dream again… to be continued…