In The Midnight Of His Heart
By AL BRUNO III
February 24, 1993
He’d gotten home at three am but there was no way he was going to get to sleep. Instead of wandering his house John sat on the back porch steps, watching the stars fade. The air was frosty and quiet. There was something magical about the tinge of purple that swept across the sky before a sunrise. His faith taught him that the moment before any transformation was divine.
Try as he might to keep his thoughts on a spiritual level he kept finding his imagination returning to Angie and the Bunkhouse. John knew that she would never work in a place like that but he couldn’t stop fantasizing about her dancing naked just for him. He knew her skin would be smooth, pink and warm to the touch. He ached to touch her, the ache left him unable to think of anything else for some time. It was like he was a teenager all over again.
Except of course that now he could control himself. Victor Kovatch, his Father and Master, had taught him how to curb his desires, taught him discipline.
What would Victor think of me now? Haven’t I suffered enough? Isn’t thirty-five years of masquerading as something I’m not punishment enough?
An alarm clock went off in the house next door. John heard his neighbor groan and hit the snooze alarm. It was time to get back inside; they’d all be waking up soon. It wouldn’t do for someone to see him sitting naked in his back yard on a cold February morning.