THE INTRODUCTION.
Everything about the girl showed her inner state. Her blond hair was messy, wild, and the hand movements chaotic. Rapidly like a typist across a keyboard her lips moved into the receiver.
Her face flashed all the emotions she was experiencing, nothing was hidden she was open for all to view. To most people they would have felt like they were invading, either they would not have looked, or felt embarrassed seeing inside her temple but not the Doctor he loved it, craved it.
This invasion of her Holy Of Holies the part of a person that is unseen but is as real as a tree one can see in the daylight, the part that is beyond intellect, emotions, a mystical piece of a person called Essence, Spirit sacred holy ground. The girl engrossed in her own pain was oblivious to everything other than the phone call,
She walked round as far as the cord allowed, an animal trapped in a cage. He aimed the Binoculars for a closer view, tears raced down her cheeks. He could sense her desperation from afar, her fear he smelt in his nostrils it pleased him immensely.
Lowering the Binoculars deliberately down her body pausing over the full breasts his hands twitched as the picture of them soft as silk took hold.
Onwards down to her belly, gazing lovingly at the swollen round mold protruding forth, lust grabbed a vice desire, rippling inside, he run his pink tongue across his lips she was ripening nicely, soon to be plucked.
A good looking boy as a child, now as an adult handsome, tall six feet in height with a physique that other men would covet, broad shouldered, olive skinned, a flawless complexion, lean waisted, long muscled legs, not an ounce of fat on his body.
His eyes shocked as people found themselves expecting dark brown eyes to match the olive skin; the eyes were however pastel blue likens to the blue on a hot summer’s day. The summer days that you hoped would go on and on, a person could get lost in them, those eyes deceived people giving the persona of a romantic, harmless individual. A manicured mustache crisp lay across the top of the mouth an image of a sophisticated, educated man.
His appearance particular even as a child, hair coal black shone, hair groomed not a hair was out of line, teeth white as snow, tie straight, shoes gleamed like the suns rays, in his jacket pocket a white starched linen hanker chief sat, he looked thirty yrs old but was in his forties in the prime of life.
Traffic today normally busy on the main street of the city however was bedlam it suited his purpose well.
Where he was now had taken many years of study, he had given up a social life, he had no regrets, sacrifice was required to attain his God given destiny.
Many years of training as a Doctor building a reputation as a skilled Surgeon, dedicated to his patients, painstaking in his work, had earned him the nickname of ‘Seamstress’ due to his delicate, smooth stitches the way he sewed his patients wounds together. He liked the name it was a compliment to his skill.
His upbringing he considered ideal the methods of child rearing were faultless in the Doctors eyes he would not be the kind of person without his father’s discipline. His father was the master of shame, using tactics of standing him naked in the shower under cold water as long as two hours at a time, the door locked from the outside, no towel, no clothes, no warmth until he was ready to complete what was required of him to a state of distinction. Hard task masters, in their minds failure was an impossibility, laziness sin, fun vanity.
They didn’t expect of himself and not do it themselves, absolutely rigid in the disciplines and morals.
One of their belief systems his parents lived out of was that excellence reflected a person’s inner sanctuary that the body was a temple and people’s actions showed on their temples thus if a person achieved excellence it showed that their sanctuary was in order, peaceful and holy.
Today psychologists and psychotherapists would be horrified of the treatment he received believing it would warp , however it was what made him today, a respected, wealthy, and talented member of society.
Six months, he thought not long to go now; she was everything he had been looking for. For weeks now he had been following her, every week this time, on this day Thursday the phone call would result in same old reactions, results would occur, tears, a walking away from the booth, carrying deep sadness, loneliness, these emotions displayed on her face like a mirror matching the body language. He had to be sure he couldn’t afford to make a mistake too costly, he was sure she was just right for what he wanted. His master demanded nothing less than a hundred percent from him.
It wasn’t hard to find women but he didn’t just want anyone they had to meet his criteria. He hated women who were easy, who tainted the world with their off- spring. He had no interest in the sluts and whores; they did not serve his higher purpose.
Gullible, needy, naive females looking for love as the saying goes,
“In all the wrong places.” He searched out fallen women in God’s eyes, women who could be redeemed though stained the majority of their hearts were still white, he like his God sought purity, and to save what remained in these women, those were the kind of women he wanted.
The girl would be there for awhile yet, so there was time to have a Cigarette, reaching into his pocket he bought out the tobacco pouch, rolled it slowly, it was obvious he enjoyed the ritual, lighting it , the climax being his eyes closed.
Today had been a wonderful day, four women at the clinic. A smirk crossed his face,
“Clinic’ he laughed inwardly to himself it sounded so professional, reputable, three of those women he had taken to the clinic today, he felt deep sense of satisfaction the day had been fruitful.
The first client was so easy it was unbelievable; he had told her that a wealthy benefactor for young women in her situation funded the clinic she replied,
“Really! I have never heard of it and how long had it been going?”
It all had been so simple unbeatably simple it was amazingly credulous it frightened him. The others had been similarly convinced it was stunning what logic and charm managed to accomplish.
They were all strong, healthy, no complications in their pregnancies. The first baby was due in two weeks; all the preparations were completed for the arrival of the baby.
In his imagination he could see the labour, a boy baby born with hair white and soft as cotton wool, pale blue eyes, white flesh like snow, no physical defects, and skin flawless.
Nothing was going to hurt these babies they were going to be the Saviour's of the human race they would be the ones to begin the future with a blood line pure, he would be instrumental in wiping out mongrels on the planet eventually, God would again have a people for himself.
It would take generations to get absolute purity into the blood line this made his work so vital of choosing the mothers of these children, he would rather be slow in choosing them than make a mistake, if he couldn’t find suitable mothers he would rear the babies himself. The training of these children was critical to the success of his mission he had to teach these children Gods laws to abstain from sexual fornication, to keep themselves apart they were Gods elected ones, a chosen priesthood the people of God.
He felt zeal a scorching flame in his insides God had appointed him to be the deliver to stop the decay, to be his instrument to raise up a breed of men devoted to God and family.
When the male babies grew into manhood he would have the privilege to choose their wives, virgins evenly yoked couples in spirituality, physically, socially, and emotionally. These women would be trained in the art of homemaking, love making, child rearing, obedient to their husbands working in the home would be their full time ministry. It repulsed him made him nauseous when he saw men and women committing adultery, fornicating, sex was a holy gift in marriage alone, it made them no more than animals giving into their sexual desires indiscriminately.
Stubbing the cigarette out with his foot he focused the binoculars again on the phone booth. The girl was in the final stage of the conversational drama, the crying and begging stage, it wasn’t good for the precious baby she carried, however there was nothing he could do about this at this moment.
Not long now, his breathing became heavier, stronger, the excitement and anticipation peaking, his body quivering at the girls beauty, his eyes devoured her long straight hair down to her tiny waist, the way a woman’s hair was meant to be her ‘Crowning glory ‘ like the Bible called it he repeated the words, ‘Crowning glory’ his fingers itched to stroke, feel, play with it in his mind he caressed the tresses of silken blond hair, looking at the lights the sun caught. A good figured woman, slim, full breasts a real woman not a girl, his throat had dried up he gasped for saliva to moisten it she always managed to do this to him. This one he hoped to marry, he planned to produce many sons from their union. He knew he was a handsome man this wasn’t pride, vanity, it was honesty. Many women had tried to seduce him, conversely this woman touched him with her gentleness, innocence was still present in her in spite of her pregnancy this drew him like a magnet made him tender an emotion which was rare for him to experience it gave him enjoyment.
Right she had finished with the ritual the wiping of the eyes, she had gathered her emotions, this was always a gigantic effort on her part, every time she did this he found it courageous, he admired her for this, and it was time to move.
She left the box, laden with sadness the load she bore was etched on her face, she walked he followed, next right corner she would take, then the third street on the left till finally five houses or apartments along was her place. He knew her movements, routines, friends her workplace he knew her like he had known her all his life there was no detail he didn’t know about her. For weeks he had been following and studying her.
His walking matched the adrenaline he had sped up his walking pace, now he crossed over to where she was waiting to cross the road, drawing up beside her and with a accidental bump her he said,
“Sorry, clumsy aren’t I, are you hurt?”
“HI! The clumsy idiots name is Russell.”
The introduction had begun.