Double Time
Chapter 68
“Indeed. I have often thought that when a man selects one word over another, he often reveals far more of himself than he intended.”
—Mark Hodder, The Strange Affair of Spring Heeled Jack
THERE WAS NO STUDY GROUP Saturday afternoon. The girls were together getting dolled up for the Homecoming dance. I quickly realized that a guy with seven girlfriends could go broke buying flowers for these dances, so we arrived at the idea of drawing names and each of us buying a flower for one of our dates. This was different than when I took Joan to prom as my date. We were all going to the Homecoming dance together. I was going to feel like King Solomon and his harem. I just wished Em was with us, too.
Now there’s a thought. I’m no Bible scholar but certain stories just jump out and beg for examination. Or fantasy. Among them is the single verse in I Kings that says Solomon had 700 wives and 300 concubines. That’s like a different woman every night for three years. By the time wife 347 gets her next turn, they have to start by introducing themselves—and probably the two-year-old child that was the result of the last time they were together. And out of the thousand women, only one is given a name: Naamah the Ammonite, mother of Solomon’s heir, Rehoboam. Others were described as foreign princesses, including Pharaoh’s daughter.
Then there is the Queen of Sheba. Was she the Shulamite of the Song of Solomon? It says she came to visit Solomon and he gave her all she wanted. She left satisfied. Back to Ethiopia where the literature of her relationship with Solomon is far more extensive and holds that their son, Menelik I, founded the dynasty that ruled Ethiopia 2,900 years until the overthrow of Haile Selassie in 1974.
The burning question is, “How did Solomon manage to love and take care of a thousand women in his sixty-year life?” I had six girlfriends present plus my sister who I talked to at least once a week. Of the six present, I made love to only two and two others were anxiously waiting their opportunity. I wondered if Solomon’s wives and concubines had as good a relationship with each other as my girlfriends have with each other. Were they as free with their love toward the other wives as they were toward Solomon? Hmm.
My mother knocked on my door to inspect my suit and make sure my tie was straight. It’s not like I could go out and buy a new suit for every big event, so I was wearing the same one I wore for Brittany’s quinceañera. Mom had suggested the houndstooth vest and a white shirt instead of the peach-colored one I wore to match Brittany. I thought the blue and gold tie was a little overboard, but they are the school colors and it was homecoming. She shoved my trilby on my head and ordered me to the car. My responsibility was to pick up Desi. Rachel was picking up both Brittany and Livy. Joan, of course, was picking up Beca.
Nobody was going to miss Desiree Whitcomb at the dance. The bodice of her purple party dress glittered around her abundant breasts. Purple velvet tied the dress tightly around her stomach and then a patterned skirt flared out to mid-thigh, covered by purple tulle. I expected something more Victorian, but Desi was in full party mode with bare legs and three-inch heels that shaped them from her butt down.
“Want to just stay here and get a jump on your sixteenth birthday?” I whispered as I leaned in to kiss her cheek. She jerked back and stared at me.
“Don’t tempt me. Riko would be upset if I didn’t wear the dress she sewed to the party.”
“Come on, sweetheart. Let’s go to the dance.”
Mom didn’t ‘make’ me drive this time. Dad had the passenger seat and I handed Desi into the back next to Pey. All the girls had promised to meet outside the dance so we could get pictures together.
And what a picture we were! A metallic sparkling bodice of lamé or sequins or some other glittery fabric was a feature of each of the girls. Beca had a beaded top with navy blue gauzy A-line skirt. She was so cute I immediately wanted to run errands for her and make sure she had anything she wanted. Brittany’s pink skirt also had a metallic beaded top, but her cleavage wasn’t covered by the net modesty panel that Beca’s had. The V-neck of the bodice went deep enough to let me know the dress must have built-in support because there was no way she was wearing a bra.
Joan wore a pale blue skirt with a sparkly belt. Above that was skin. Just a hand’s width of bare tummy and back before the separate top made of the same sparkles wrapped her bosom and rose in a collar the same width as the belt. Yummy! I’d seldom seen Livy in a skirt. She tended toward shorts and athletic wear. Her pink skirt was made of layers of organza and the top was netting embroidered in red metallic flowers with a solid pink under bodice. I knew from weeks of careful observation that unless she was running or playing a sport, there was no bra under that bodice.
And then there was my sweet Rachel. She had a red layered skirt of organza or some such transparent fabric that gave glimpses all the way up to her dark red panties. The silver, red, and blue sparkles of her top rose to a strap over only her right shoulder. The rest was cut to follow the contour of her breasts and leave her left shoulder enticingly bare.
After Mom and Dad were satisfied they had enough pictures, we launched our parade into the dance.
“You think you’re pretty hot shit to walk in here with all those babes on your arms,” a voice growled at my shoulder as I prepared a tray of drinks to take to our table.
“Beg your pardon?” I said. “Do you have a problem with my dates?”
“Only with you having them all,” he said. I looked him up and down. I had a feeling he was a football player, though I hadn’t paid enough attention to the team to identify which one. “I’m going to see how many of them I can fuck tonight.”
“Hmm. Dude, better lay off the booze,” I said, sniffing his breath. “And you might want to grow a pussy if you want to fuck those girls. They don’t go for pricks.”
“What the fuck are you talking about? I’m going to take them away from you one at a time. No reason girls that hot should be hanging around with a loser like you.”
“You don’t get it, man. I’m like the token male—an honorary lesbian—allowed to hang out with a bunch of cute dykes. If you want to get your dick wet, stick with the cheerleaders. They’re pros.”
The shove he gave me wasn’t quite enough to spill the drinks I was carrying. He looked over toward the table and the timing was perfect. Rachel was kissing Livy, Joan was kissing Beca, and Brittany was kissing Desi. I wondered if they realized what was happening and staged it.
“Fuck,” my nemesis said. He strolled away toward a group of guys on the side of the dance area who all seemed to be unattached. I wondered if we’d heard the last of him.
“So, did our cover story work?” Livy asked as we bounced next to each other on the dancefloor.
“Yeah, I think,” I said. “Bunch of girls out with each other and a token guy for some of the dances. I haven’t seen that much animosity around before.”
“He’s Bruce Kelly. His girlfriend dumped him a week ago and he’s been hunting ever since. Problem is that Chelsey trashed his reputation on the way out the door. None of the girls he thinks he deserves will have anything to do with him.”
“You know him?”
“He’s in my class, but not a friend. He’s one of those football guys who have over built and over trained. Probably getting some help from illegal drugs. Coach has an eye on him after what he did to Chelsey,” Livy said, leading me back to the table.
“What was that?”
“He hit her. Chose the wrong target for brutality. She waited until the whole team was in the locker room and then barged in with a black eye. Nobody had a chance to react when she announced that she wasn’t dating a juiced-up thug who thought he could beat a woman. Pointed him out and told the team their reputation rode on his shoulders. Then she disappeared, only to show up in the cheerleaders’ locker room and tell them what happened. They took it upon themselves to make sure every gym class heard about the story. Right now, he can’t get a date with anyone. The thugs with him are the ones who believe a guy should have anything he wants from a girl so no one will have anything to do with any of them.”
“I’m sorry I made a disparaging remark about the cheerleaders,” I confessed. I told Livy what I’d said.
“Ooh. Harsh. Not altogether inaccurate, but still not smart. Looks like you’ll have a chance to explain yourself.” I looked up in the direction Livy was looking and saw three knock-out girls in formals headed our direction. This was definitely the top of the cheerleading squad. In a school our size, there are about fifteen or sixteen varsity cheerleaders and two-thirds are blonde and totally stacked.
“So, you’re the guy who thinks all the cheerleaders are pros,” the first one to get to the table said. My girlfriends were all on edge and ready to fight. I needed to eat humble pie and fix this.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”
“Five bucks and a hamburger will prove your point,” the second cheerleader said.
“What?”
“We might be pros but we’re not that expensive. Might even be persuaded to give out a free sample,” the third said.
“From what we’ve heard, you’re an honorary lesbian. I’d love to get licked by a guy who knows what he’s doing.”
“Have you embarrassed my boyfriend enough, Adrienne?” Livy asked.
“God, Olivia. I didn’t recognize you in a dress,” The first blonde, Adrienne, said. “I thought you were committed to the girls’ team.”
“See? Everybody gets a first impression and holds to it,” Livy laughed. “This is an intramural sport and both can play. Guys, let me introduce the top tier of our varsity cheerleading squad, Adrienne, Leslie, and Rosie. You all might as well grab seats and make it look like we’ve turned you to the dark side.”
“If you don’t mind, I’ll take this seat. It seems to be the only one available,” the third blonde, Rosie, said as she plopped her pretty ass in my lap. “If I feel you growing, I’ll know you’re a lesbian,” she said to me.
“How would you tell the difference between if I was a lesbian and if I was just a normally horny teenage boy?” I asked.
“Oh. Well, I’m not the brightest bulb on the block, you know. I’ll probably have to do further experimentation.”
“I’ll be the one experimenting on you if you molest my boyfriend,” Joan said rather fiercely.
“This is who took you off the market, Joan? That’s probably why the douchebag decided to attack your guy. Good old dependable Joan was no longer available,” Leslie said.
“Hey! That’s enough name calling,” I said heatedly. I gave Rosie a shove to get her off my lap. I started this, so I needed to put a stop to it. “I was way out of line calling you pros when I was arguing with that dude. I’m really sorry and I’m glad you came over to get me straightened out. I’d appreciate it if we all just stop calling each other names which obviously aren’t true. My girlfriends are all good people and so are the cheerleaders. Let’s call a truce.”
“Take it easy, Lancelot. You sound like an old man. We aren’t mad at you or your girlfriends. Being called pros is like a promotion. Most kids just call us sluts. We’ve always been a little jealous of Joan because she managed to be true to herself no matter what others assumed,” Adrienne said.
“May I have my seat back if I promise not to break anything?” Rosie asked, pointing at my lap. What the fuck is with these girls? They call each other sluts and hos and pros and don’t think a thing about it? Where’s their self-respect? I shut my mouth and let Rosie resume her seat in my lap. She made herself really comfortable.
“We really came over just to rub it in Bruce’s face. Even the pros prefer the new kid,” Adrienne said. “We didn’t even get your name and Rosie is practically fucking you on the table.”
“I’m Jacob Hopkins,” I said formally. “These are my girlfriends, Rebeca with one c, Desiree, Joan, Brittany, Rachel, and Livy. Emily is already in Service, so she’s not with us.”
“You’re creating a pod, aren’t you?” Leslie said, scooting over closer to Joan. “I think you’re the first one we’ve seen actually take shape. I’d like to apply. Are you planning to add any more boys?”
“You can go down on all the girls you want to,” Rachel said. “But a pussy really only has room for one cock.”
“And we haven’t invited you to join,” Beca said. “What year are you?”
“Rosie and I are seniors like Joan. Adrienne is a junior. All of us are in the same Constitutional Government class.”
“So, what’s a pod?” Beca pursued.
“Since the government has made it almost impossible to marry and have a family before a person turns twenty-one, different kinds of relationships have begun developing. The most popular is the pod which is a small group that creates a family environment with stability that extends across the Service years for the members,” Leslie said. “The acronym started off from our mentoring program, Purposeful, Ongoing, Discussions. We just kept it and extended it to mean the new family units. The top contenders for a new D-word revolve around domicile or domesticity.”
“Joan and Livy and I have talked a bit about it outside of class,” Rachel said. “We’ve been hesitant to apply a label to what we’re doing. But a lot of it applies.”
“And it’s not that I’m opposed to having another hot girl to play with,” Beca said. “You look pretty yummy. But we still don’t know what’s optimum for our group. We’re looking at one member already in Service and another going next year. We haven’t worked out how we deal with the transitions yet with one senior, two juniors and four sophomores.”
“I didn’t expect the littlest one among you to be the POD Leader. I thought Jacob would be the one gathering people around him,” Adrienne said.
“Jacob’s my boyfriend,” Beca stated flatly. “But these are my girlfriends. We’re some kind of group but we’re not going to let some government agency define us.”
“That being said,” Rachel said as she kissed Beca’s fingers, “we aren’t an exclusive group yet. We know Emily has had a lover or two in the Service. We suspect Jacob will have lovers that aren’t part of our group. A couple are very close. So, if you want to play with one of us, that’s strictly a matter of both parties consenting.”
“But nobody outside our group plays with Jacob without a condom,” Beca said firmly.
The rest of the dance was relatively uneventful. The cheerleaders drifted away to the people they’d come with, but each of the three made sure they got a dance with me and at least one of the girls during the evening. I wondered where that was going.
After the crowning of the Homecoming Queen and King and a few obligatory slow dances that followed, Brittany and Desi approached the DJ and handed him a thumb drive. He nodded and made an announcement.
“We’re going to change up the beat,” he announced. “See what you can do with a little salsa!” With that, he started the first song on Brittany’s drive. She grabbed my hand and we headed for the center of a suddenly empty dancefloor. The rest, as they say, was history. Brittany and I melted into each other and into the music. Before the song was over, our other girlfriends had hit the floor, too, and there were times I was dancing with one, another, or several at the same time. Our Sunday dance sessions were really paying off.
“Whoo! Boys and girls, the temperature in this room went up ten degrees. That was hot!” The DJ said. “Let’s do it again and the rest of you get out there and do what those kids are doing. Make a little love in this dance!” He hit Brittany’s next song and we just kept dancing. A couple of guys and about twenty girls came out to join us and I think each of the girls found her way into my arms for a while, including our new cheerleader friends.
The DJ played four of Brittany’s good salsa tunes and then slowed things down so couples could just collapse into each other’s arms and get their belt buckles polished. I found my girlfriends shifting positions and I danced a while with each of them, sharing deep kisses right in the middle of the dancefloor.
We’d decided that we could get home without my parents coming to pick me up. Rachel could take four passengers in her Yaris. It surprised me, though, when Joan snagged Desi to take her home instead of Beca. And surprised me again when Beca called shotgun in Rachel’s car and left me snuggled between Livy and Brittany in the back. Livy was pretty exhausted from having run a school-record race in the morning, gotten her period, and danced for three hours. Rachel went to her house first and walked her to the door. She motioned the rest of us to stay in the car.
“Are you sure you’re okay with it, Brit?” Beca asked.
“Yeah. I think it will be fun.”
“What’s up?” I asked.
“Brittany is staying at my house tonight,” Beca explained. “But we thought we’d like to go park with our older wiser boyfriend and girlfriend before we get there. Do you have any objections to making out with Brittany for a while? It seems like I haven’t had any time with Rachel in ages.”
“That’s okay with you?” I asked Brittany. We’d shared a few kisses and I liked her a lot, but nothing we’d done could remotely be considered making out.
“I danced with you tonight. I got hot and horny. I know my body isn’t ready for sex but I’d like to kiss for a while. Okay?” she said. I relaxed.
“Yeah. That’s okay. I’d love to kiss you.” I proved it by lowering my lips to hers.
“Hey. No getting the party started early,” Rachel said. “By the way, Jacob, if you had any doubts, Livy won’t be running in the morning.”
“I kind of figured that. I don’t think I’ll be running in the morning either.”
Rachel drove us out in the country to the cemetery Livy and I went to. It was sheltered from the road and we’d have privacy. Apparently, Livy had told her all about it. As soon as we were parked, we did some shifting around. I scooted over behind the driver’s seat and Brittany followed, right into my lap. Beca slid the passenger seat back as far as it would go and Rachel climbed over the console to join her. Once Beca was on Rachel’s lap, Rachel leaned the seat back.
We did a lot of laughing and squirming around. Brittany and I could even lean over and kiss Rachel and Beca briefly. Then somehow, her lips touched mine and I was a goner. One thought of Sophie and I forgot all about Brittany being only fifteen and two months. She lost her jacket and tilted her head up in an open invitation for me to kiss the acres of skin exposed between her chin and the edge of her top. Those kisses covered the top and inside slopes of her breasts. Not knowing what else to do with it, my right hand rested on her bare skin just above her knee. And seemed to slide upward of its own accord.
Beca’s dress didn’t allow Rachel easy access to her breasts. Rachel’s, on the other hand, seemed designed to make sure Beca could get a hand inside. Beca was definitely in the dominant position crawling all over Rachel and even folding back the left side of her bodice so she could tongue Rachel’s nipple.
The whine Rachel made caught our attention and Brittany pulled my hand out from under her skirt and placed it on the slope of her left breast. She pulled the strap down her shoulder before attacking my mouth with passion. I moved my hand down and the dress fell away from her breast to give it fully to me. I was about to lower my lips to the little brown nub in my hand when the front seat shifted again.
“We need to get home before Mom sends out a search party,” Beca said as she straightened her clothes and Rachel climbed back into the driver’s seat. She straightened the seat and gave us room to move. Brittany looked up into my eyes, panting for breath. Before she moved, she cupped her exposed breast and lifted it toward me. I obediently kissed her nipple and gave it a little lick and suck. She sighed and pulled her dress back into place.
“Wow,” she breathed. “I like making out.”
We got Beca and Brittany to Beca’s house, kissed them both soundly and then Rachel and I headed for Eagle Marsh. We jumped in the back seat together and didn’t bother undressing. She just pulled her panties off and my slacks down and mounted me.
I was half an hour late past curfew getting home.
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