Double Time
Chapter 50
“I assert nothing, I content myself with believing that more is possible than people think.”
—Voltaire, Micromegas
“ARE YOU HOME? Can you talk?”
“Yes! How are you? Where are you? I’ve been thinking about you non-stop.”
“Really? You don’t have enough girlfriends to keep you occupied?”
“Em, no matter how many girlfriends I have, I will always have you on my mind.”
“I so wanted to hear that, J. They gave us our phones back this afternoon and I was afraid I’d miss you.”
“Is it hard?”
“I was going to ask that,” she giggled. “Yes, training is hard, but not that bad. I guess it’s pretty rough on the ones who aren’t in shape. We aren’t required to reach the same level that military basic does. Those who choose military after our basic training still have to go through basic for their branch of service. It’s pretty clear who is going that route and who is trying for a desk job.”
“So, where are you?”
“Oh. They sent me to Camp Mosquito in Minnesota near Duluth. I’m glad I’m here in the summer instead of winter. Keep that in mind when you pick your start date. The biggest hardship is mosquitoes. The real name is Camp Mesabi. There was a lot of crying when we got here and people realized that the six buses we boarded at the intake center each headed to a different training camp. No matter how many times we were told, people just didn’t get the fact that they wouldn’t be going to the same place as their friends. We were just given a boarding card with our bus number when we signed in and went straight to the bus.”
“Geez. They really do their best to make it bad for you, don’t they?”
“It seems that way at first, but I’ve adjusted. I only saw a couple of people I knew at the intake center, so I just figured I’d be alone. Not being able to talk to anyone back home and not being able to use social media has been the hardest. But they buddied people who were having a really hard time with people who were adjusting okay. Sometimes, I’d like to strangle the brat I’m stuck with, but she’s improving. I miss you, J.”
“I miss you, Em. It seems like we have so much to talk about I don’t know where to start.”
“Summer school? Did you succeed?”
“Yes. Rachel and I both passed our session with good grades and will be able to register for AMA/Trig this week. It was exhausting. And I passed drivers’ ed.”
“Well, if you go into my room—er, Pey’s room, with her permission—you’ll find the key to the Prius in my bedside drawer. Have Mom take you for some drives in it. If I don’t need it when I get my NSO assignment, you can use it while I’m gone.”
“That’s sweet, Em. I’ll take good care of it.”
“You better.”
“What are you going to be doing when basic is over?”
“Good question. It looks like I’ll land someplace in logistics, but after they determine my aptitude and approve the area, I could be assigned to any aspect of the supply chain.”
“Supply chain?”
“Could be buying, scheduling, shipping, supply, or anything that has to do with project management and coordination. I’d have to start at the bottom like everyone else, but they have tracks for lower and middle management that I think would be right up my alley. We’ll see.”
“I guess all you can do is whatever they say,” I said.
“Exactly. I may not be in the military, but an order is an order and you go where you’re told. If they wanted to, they could send me to Alaska to buy fish from Eskimos and that’s what I’d do for two years. While structure and discipline are good, the whole process is really demotivating.”
“Geez. Sounds like the government just took all eighteen-year-olds and turned them into slave labor.”
“Pretty accurate description,” she laughed. “Um… J? How are you? I mean… you know, dreaming.”
“I won’t say the nightmares are gone but it’s different now. Now that I know what causes them, I deal with it better. I pull myself out before I sink too deep. I’ve only had a couple. Both times, I’ve stopped them by thinking of making love with you. I love you, Em.”
“Oh, I love you, too. I miss you so much. It’s like I just realized what I really want in life and then I had to leave. Will you still love me when I get back? Like that?”
“I will love you forever.”
“Um… maybe we could get together with your girlfriends when I get a week off after specialty training. You know… sort of get to know each other better.”
“Em, Rachel has already said it clearly: You are one of us.”
Joan and I made love. Sunday afternoon, we no longer felt like we’d been parted for two months and desperate to get back together. We’d taken it easy enough for the two hours we were together on Saturday that we could just relax and joke with Rachel at lunch. It still seemed strange to my eighty-year-old to have two girlfriends who got along with each other and even made plans to ‘get together’ soon while they were both touching and cuddling with me. After lunch, Rachel begged off Joan’s invitation to join us at her house for the afternoon and encouraged us to have fun.
“I want to join in,” Rachel said. “But first, you two should have a nice time to get reacquainted. You shouldn’t need to feel like your pussy is competing with mine, Joan. Go and get all the cock you can take. Believe me, it’s hard to get too much.”
That being said, Rachel gave us each a deep kiss that left us in no doubt that she’d join us sometime soon.
Once we got back to Joan’s house, we just relaxed into enjoying each other. We didn’t rush, but we were a little single-minded about what we were in her room for. We made love starting from the moment we walked through her house and found her mother was out for the afternoon. Just undressing that girl was enough to get me inspired to great things. I loved every minute of it and, based on the number of orgasms Joan screamed through, she loved it, too. God! She was so different from Rachel! And then she started whispering in my ear what she’d like to do when we were together with Rachel. Joan had me hard as a rock again in seconds. If Rachel had the same ideas, this was going to be a stellar year.
29 July 2019
I’m in love. I wonder how many times I’m going to start a journal entry with those words. I’m sure I’ve done it a dozen times already. But I can’t help it, really. I can’t make love to a woman I don’t love. And I’ve looked at this a dozen ways. Do I just fall in love with any woman I make love to? But I love Desi and Beca and Brittany. I haven’t made love to them. I know, though, that I love them enough to make love to them. Not that I will, but the love is there.
Joan is beautiful. She’s sexy and likes to show it. I love making love to her. But I fell in love with her first.
Not all at once. I thought she was a disgraceful slut when I first saw her. But she isn’t a slut, nor is she disgraceful. Her behavior… her weekly trolling was a defense mechanism. She went through so many guys precisely because she wasn’t a slut. And she showed us she was both clever and talented when we were working on our Human Geography project. She showed that she cared for us by putting forth some real effort, even when she didn’t expect any return from it. Did she have sex? Sure. Why shouldn’t she. I had sex with Francie before I fell in love with her. Why would I think a girl shouldn’t enjoy sex because it’s fun?
Rachel? Yeah. I have trouble with that. I have trouble with my eighty-year-old inside who lived in a different reality, if any at all. Can I disconnect my feelings enough to not get upset over it? While I make love with Joan and Desi and Em?
That old man might need to die.
Desi got into town late Sunday night and, of course, she wanted me to come over Monday afternoon. She had things for me to try on.
Her mom was still at the Ren Faire she was working that week in Missouri. But her dad brought her back for a few days so she could register for classes. He also came by to pick me up and had talked to Mom about me staying for dinner. Desi wrapped her entire body around me when she saw me. I nervously glanced at her father sitting in the car waiting for us but that didn’t stop her from laying a huge kiss on me.
When we got over to her house, she immediately led me to the basement workshop and started undressing me.
“Desi, I’m going over to Pacific Fabric to pick up those things your mother wants. She’s entirely out of gold braid and running low on a dozen other things,” her dad said from the stairs. I was in clear view of him and half naked as Desi worked on getting my trousers off. “Don’t get carried away. I’ll be back in an hour or an hour-and-a-half.” And then he was gone with his fifteen-year-old daughter undressing her fifteen-year-old boyfriend. I wondered if he knew about Desi’s auction and my bid.
As soon as she heard the door close, Desi stripped down to her panties. She already had most of my clothes off and finished the job by pulling down my boxers and freeing my erection. We spent a while making out and rubbing each other. She made sure I kept my hands outside her panties while we rubbed each other off.
“It’s still intact and I intend to keep it that way. But God! I wish we were sixteen tomorrow!”
After laying my cock between her generous boobs and stroking up and down until I sprayed her chest and chin, she got a washcloth and cleaned us both up.
“Now we have to try on these costumes,” she said. “Mom put them together from your measurements but if you’ve grown any—in addition to your cock—I’ll have to mark them for alterations.”
“What do I need more costumes for?” I asked.
“Indy Comic Con!” she said. “You promised.” Oh, yeah. I sort of remembered that.
“So, when is it and how is it any different than what we did in June?”
“PopCon is all genres, so you get comics, movies, TV shows, and books. You get a lot of Star Wars characters, Harry Potter, and anime. Comic Con gets all that, too, but is focused on the comic book industry, including manga. And it’s all-ages. So, we have to tone down some of our outfits. You won’t see me doing Kill la Kill at Comic Con. There are areas that are adults only but we can’t wander around the show floor with my boobs hanging out.”
“Too bad. That was the high point of PopCon,” I laughed.
“Yeah. For both of us!” She handed me a pair of bikini-sized briefs and told me to put them on.
“Is this all I can wear under the costume?” I asked.
“Just enough to keep it from getting dirty,” she said. “Wait till you see what I have to go with this. Here, start with the leggings.” She handed me a pair of tights that had implants in them. That’s what I’d call it. They weren’t overblown, like a completely fake Batman costume. These just molded to my legs and sort of enhanced where muscles would be if I had them.
“Is this right?” I asked as I pulled at the green fabric.
“Yeah. I wasn’t sure if you had added enough muscle to your legs yet to make this work without the inserts. But they look perfect. Try the shirt.”
It was a pullover made of stretchy material and had inserts that enhanced my torso. The way it looked, I should be stiff as a board but Riko had made it very flexible and while I looked like I had a plastic six-pack, it moved with me as if it was my own musculature. Next, Desi helped me into boots, gloves, and a collar. It was really pretty cool. I almost felt like a superhero. But there was still a helmet style headdress to put on and that finished the look.
“Wow!” I said, looking in a mirror. “This is awesome. Who am I supposed to be?”
“Vision,” Desi answered. “He’s an android superhero who fights with the Avengers. Now hold onto this as I get it on.” She needed the help. Her red leather bathing suit kind of thing was a little stiff, which hefted her cleavage up and together.
“This is PG?” I asked when I surveyed the leotard and acre of skin it didn’t cover.
“Nothing’s exposed. Or even really hinted at. And with the boots, it will be a knockout.” I helped her get the thigh-high matching red leather boots on and then red, over-the-elbow gloves and a red partial helmet.
“God! You look great!”
“I’m the Red Witch, who is very fond of the android, Vision. They work with the Avengers to get rid of Ultron. We will knock ’em out with these costumes.” I looked at the two of us in the big mirror and turned Desi in my arms to kiss her again.
“This is fun,” I said.
“Right. We’ll give this costume a go. Help me strip. We’ll try our day two costumes.” Getting Desi out of her costume was more fun than getting her into it. We took plenty of time to play. I was getting to enjoy the whole cosplay thing. Desi got us straight into the next costume.
The next day, Rachel, Joan, Desi, Brittany, and I all went together to register for classes. Most of our schedule was set before we got out for the summer, but we’d had some changes. I didn’t get out of cross-country practice until ten, so that was when we all got together.
“So, you get up to run with your hot physical therapist running partner at five and then you come to practice running at eight-thirty?” Desi asked. “What happens when school starts?”
“Um… I’ll run in the morning and have cross country after school,” I said. Rachel frowned at me.
“Every day after school? When we could be doing other things?” she said.
“Together,” Joan added.
“Just for a couple of months. The season is over in October.” None of my girlfriends were enthusiastic about my athletic ambition. “Look at it this way,” I tried again. “I’m getting stronger. Stronger legs mean that I can dance longer with each of you.”
“Like today?” Brittany asked. “Your legs are still shaking. Are you going to be okay to dance at my party? You aren’t going to be too tired, are you?”
“No! No. I mean… There’s a meet that morning but no guarantee that I’ll even compete. I’m still the slowest runner on the team, you know?”
“If you don’t get to compete, why run?” Joan asked. I groaned.
“Do you have your PE credits in, Joan? You’re a senior and you have to take a gym class this year.” She nodded at my assessment. She wasn’t happy about getting sweaty at school, though she didn’t mind it when we were naked together. “I took a semester of PE last year as part of my physical therapy. This semester I get a full semester PE Waiver for running cross country. Unless they put the new four-year PE requirement in effect, I’ll be done with PE. And if they do put it in effect, I can continue to get credit for cross country in the fall and track in the spring. If I want to, I mean.”
“Joan? Maybe we could study together after school sometimes,” Rachel said. “In my room.” I’m not sure Joan had fully accepted the idea that she was bi-sexual. But she didn’t object when Rachel reached for her hand.
“Um… That would be… I guess I could ask Beca if it’s okay.”
“Yeah. She might want to study with us, too,” Rachel laughed.
I got my class schedule set, including registering for my PE credit. Rachel and I switched our registration for the fall from Algebra II to Pre-calc/Trig with no problems since we aced the summer school course. Beca and I had been invited to AP US History after our Human Geography course last spring and signed up for that right away. I also managed to get Honors English with Ms. Levy. She was the only teacher from last year that I would have again this year. In a school our size, most lower level teachers only taught one subject, six times a day. Since Ms. Levy had the Honors section, she had three sections of freshmen and three of sophomores. Brittany would be in that class with me. My other teachers would be new to me. At least Desi would be in my Intro to Entrepreneurship and I thought with her family’s support we should have a lock on that class. I was still making up credits from the partial work first semester freshman year, so I had seven periods of classes with no study hall. I was beginning to feel the pressure.
Oddly, the two classes I looked forward to the most were probably the least popular classes in the entire school. I had no foreign language my freshman year. V1 remembered a little German and a little Spanish but not enough to count. Our school required three years of a foreign language or two years each of two different languages. I only had three years left. The surprise was that I took Latin. One of the things I’d noticed in my reading career was that classical authors all knew Latin and it seemed to affect the way they wrote. It certainly makes a guy sound smart when he tosses off a phrase in Latin. So, I’d be taking three years of the language.
I had to have two fine arts credits and was enrolled in Music Theory and Composition. Vinnie had been working with me on reading music and I found myself often sitting alone in my room late at night, just picking at my guitar and experimenting with what I’d learned. V2’s muscle memory was beginning to meld with V3’s new head knowledge and I loved playing the guitar. I had a thought that I might want to compose some of my own music.
We all went out together that evening, including Brittany. Her father had agreed that she could join the group of friends since her quinceañera boyfriend would be there and under the condition that Aunt Sophie drive her. It was just dinner at Red Robin, but it was interesting having Sophie join right in. I was sure she was in her thirties, but she talked and acted much younger. I caught Rachel’s eye and she winked at me.
“Sophie, what do you do in the real world that has you free to join a bunch of teens for the afternoon and evening?” Rachel asked.
“I’m a dancer. And I’m recovering from an injury for a few months before I return to New York,” she said. “It’s just lucky that I could be here for Brittany’s quince. And to meet you.” I think Rachel felt the smoky intensity of Sophie’s gaze as they talked—a conversation soon reduced to whispers with several glances over at me while I tried to keep my focus on Joan, Desi, and Brittany.
I sure miss Beca.
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