If you're offended, don't read it."************************************************************************Josh was a boomer. He'd been born in 1944 while his father was in the Army. That first year of his life was all fuzzy in his mind, as it is in most folk's minds. Josh remembered very little from then; his mother, his crib, stuff like that. Josh remembered a lot more, from the next few years. He remembered the kids making fun of him. He remembered crying, crying a lot."Mom, why did you name me Josh? The kids all say it rhymes with 'wash.' It's a stupid name." "Josh, your name is short for Joshua, a great Prophet from the Bible. Not only that, you were named after my mother, who died before you were born. Her name was Judith." "Mom, you named me after a girl?" Josh was humiliated. Most of his friends were Italian. They were named after their fathers, or uncles, or even grandfathers. His one Jewish friend was named Steve. That was an American name, not something. Jay took my hand and led me back into the room.Piper squated on the end of the red and gold chaise, his long legs sticking up like black wings by his ears. His dark-haired head bent over the carved wooden flute in his hands, as he blew into it and a series of breathy notes flew off into the air around us. I smiled at him, and the music paused while he returned the smile.I turned back to Jay and caressed his face, his neck, his shoulders, his back, and touched him all over for I couldn't get enough of the feel of him, the spicy scent of him, and the warmth of his body against mine. I stroked his hair, reached behind him, and gave his long, pale-blonde braid a playful tug. My hands slid into the hollow of his neck, and along his shoulders to his arms. Lifting first one of his hands, and then the other to my lips I kissed each finger, taking each one into my mouth, and savoring the sweet, spicy flavor. I rubbed his back, and he arched against my hands, moaning softly. I squeezed his.
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