Double Time
Chapter 71
“Is it painful?” the groundskeeper asked. “I am asking for science.”
—John Scalzi, The Human Division
THE BUS RIDE TO STATE FINALS in Terre Haute was four hours. We were loaded at six-thirty Saturday morning and asleep on each other’s shoulders by seven. We got to the Wabash Valley Family Sports Center about eleven o’clock, having taken a potty break at McDonald’s on the north side of Indianapolis where most of us also grabbed a breakfast sandwich and soft drink. A few of the runners couldn’t stand the thought of food and a couple decided they needed the all-out meal of a Big Mac and Fries. Regardless, everyone was tired and achy by the time we got off the bus.
Jock had allowed plenty of time, considering it more important that the runners get to walk around the course, loosen up, and relax before the race than that they get an extra hour of sleep in the morning. The girls’ race was slated for one o’clock and the boys’ at one-forty-five. The course was one of the most boring I’ve ever seen, but it’s considered a championship cross country course and hosts major events during the year. The high school championships were the first of the season championships held here, including the Under Armour Pre-National Invitational, the Nike Cross Regional Midwest Championships, and the NCAA National Championships. It’s not at the ISU campus, but out east of town a couple of miles.
The course is serpentine, twisting around a two hundred fifty-acre field. There are no trees, so spectators can see the whole race, though there are no bleachers, either. Cross country isn’t one of the great spectator sports but in addition to the four hundred runners and another two hundred support staff, there were probably a thousand spectators that showed up to surround the course.
I guess I should mention why there are so many runners—about two hundred each for the boys’ and the girls’ races. Cross country is actually two races in one. The top six teams out of each semi-state all run in the State Finals. Team scores are computed as the places of the top five finishers from each team. So, if the team members place 5, 20, 55, 92, and 110, the team score is the sum or 280. The team with the lowest score wins. All seven of the team members can compete in the next level, but only the top five score.
But cross country is also a very individual sport. About forty of the runners in the race had placed in the top twenty of the semi-states but weren’t members of a full team. So individual places are also awarded. That means the first place runner might not contribute to a team score at all.
The rules say you have to have six feet per lane at the starting line. This race had forty-four lanes and our girls were in lane twenty-five. Livy got a long hug and little kiss from me before the runners were called to the start. That’s a long process, too. Officially, the event begins when the runners are called to the start. Then there is the inspection. The Clerk of the Course walks the starting line and looks at every runner. The only jewelry that is allowed are watches, religious medals, and emergency medical bracelets. The medals and bracelets have to be taped down to the runner’s skin. All the members of a team have to have matching uniforms. Sounds logical, but until a few years ago, I guess cross country runners just showed up in their shorts and T-shirts. Believe it or not, there’s even a rule that says the runners have to wear shoes. And finally, the bibs and transponders have to be properly attached and displayed.
After the judges are all satisfied that those who are lined up in the race are legally ready to run, the Starter steps up and when he gives the signal two hundred girls pound down the starting chute trying to get ahead of the others and onto the track before it narrows. The LaVern Gibson course is extremely well-groomed and maintained. The day was dry and sunny, in the mid-fifties and everything was ready. I lost Livy in the start almost immediately, even though she was right on the starting line when the gun went off. I was still yelling my fool head off to cheer her on.
I didn’t pick her up again in my field glasses until about a kilometer and a half into the race where the course turned parallel to the starting chute. She wasn’t in the lead. In fact, there were a lot of girls ahead of her and she was struggling to get free of the pack fighting for position.
When the lead runner passed the 4k mark, those of us assisting beside the chute with water and aid turned to the finish line. I glanced at my new watch and couldn’t believe the runner in first place was burning up the course in less than eighteen minutes.
It wasn’t Livy’s day. When her number was called by the Caller and the Chute Umpire got her into the chute in the proper order, she was fifty-sixth. She ran in 19:27.9. To say she was disappointed was an understatement.
“I just couldn’t get free to pass. I had more to give but I couldn’t get there,” she sobbed as I collected her at the end of the chute and gave her water. That’s the character of a cross country race. It isn’t always about how fast you are but how you get positioned. The girl from Carroll Livy had chased all year placed fifth. But that school has serious runners and three were in the top ten. Carroll took home the team championship. Three of the top ten finishers weren’t on teams. And the girl who ran in second place at a great 18:18 was on the last place finishing team. Only one other person on her team finished in under twenty-one minutes. The Mad Anthony girls’ team came in fifteenth with only two girls running under twenty minutes.
The boys’ race made me pretty discouraged. There was a reason I wasn’t on the competing team of our top seven runners. All 205 runners in the boy’s race ran the course in less than nineteen minutes. The top runners turned a five-minute mile pace. My 10k pace was a solid nine-minute mile and was probably good to place in most races. But I didn’t think I’d ever be running at the kind of 5k pace these guys struck.
Our top runner came in fourteenth and the team placed tenth. A little after two o’clock, we piled back into the bus and headed home.
After another hamburger stop north of Indy, we finally got back to school at seven. Even those of us who didn’t run were feeling sweaty and smelly. I’d spent most of the ride back rubbing Livy’s legs. When the sun set at six-thirty, I spent some time stroking a little farther up her legs than the coaches would have approved.
We filed off the bus and into the arms of my sister.
“Em! You’re here! I love you!” I said. Rachel stepped up from a hug with Livy to give me a kiss as Em hugged our tall girlfriend.
“I’m here to get you to the party,” Em said. “Rachel came along to guide me.”
“I can’t go to a party smelling like this,” Livy moaned.
“Don’t worry, honey. There’s a hot shower and a shower maiden in your near future. Quick kiss for the birthday girl and then I’m going to carefully wash every inch of your tired body,” Rachel said. She and Livy folded into the back seat of Em’s Prius and I slid in front with my sister.
“Happy birthday to you!” we all sang to Desi. She blew out her sixteen candles. No one had particularly dressed up for the party. Livy and I only had the clothes we took along to Terre Haute though Rachel had brought a few things for her. But Desi, as the birthday girl, dressed up like a ballerina in a very bust-revealing leotard and a pink tutu. She wore a ‘Birthday’ tiara and carried a little wand to completely confuse the imagery. Ballerina? Princess? Fairy?
“As birthday princess, I hereby declare that Jacob’s lap is my throne and you may serve me there,” she giggled. She pushed me back in a chair and sat on me. Em brought her a piece of birthday cake and sat on the arm of the chair to feed her.
“I’m so sorry I messed up your plans,” Em said. “If you want Jacob tonight, I can wait. But I only have this week.”
“Oh, Emily, you’re so sweet,” Desi said. She put a hand on Em’s cheek and pulled her in for a kiss. “There’s no reason for us to rush. When I have Jacob for my deflowering, I don’t want him thinking he’s missing something important elsewhere. And this week is going to be chaos with play rehearsals. I wouldn’t have time to use my sex slave anyway.”
“Hey, that reminds me,” I said. “I haven’t had a chance to tell anyone yet. It looks like even if there isn’t a great opportunity for Desi and me to do the deed, I will be spending a little more time near her in the coming month.”
“How? What are you doing?” Desi asked.
“I was selected to be part of the trio providing music for your play. I guess you’ll all get to hear me play in public.”
“Oh, Jacob! That’s wonderful,” Desi said, planting a huge kiss on me. I couldn’t remember if V2 had his tonsils out but Desi was searching for them. Everyone else was clapping and cheering.
“That means Jacob might have to practice during our study sessions on Saturdays,” Joan remarked. “We’ll just have to suffer through his guitar serenades while we study.”
“In return for my subject’s service to my upcoming performance,” Desi said in a haughty English accent that she usually reserved for Ren Fairs, “I have decided to grant this boon. I am collecting one week of Jacob’s sex slavery in advance of my deflowering and gifting it to Miss Emily. It must be used this week.”
“Can she give something away that she hasn’t earned the right to yet?” Brittany asked. “I thought she had to prove her virginity and stuff before she could have him as a sex slave and give him away.” Desi scowled at Brittany.
“I think we can all approve this slight deviation,” Rachel said. “I think it is very generous.”
“And I’m still sixteen and a virgin, a state maintained until Jacob collects,” Desi said adamantly. “Beca, as our beloved girlfriend, will you come here and confirm my status?”
“What? Me? Do what?”
Desi pulled up her tutu and unfastened two snaps at her crotch, opening the bottom of her leotard.
“Just come and look up my cooter and confirm that my hymen is intact.”
“Really? I mean, sure. I’d love to look up your cooter. Or whatever.”
Desi leaned back in my arms and spread her legs. I thought I’d help relax her and took her big breasts in my hands to knead them. Beca knelt between her spread legs. Em took the opportunity to kiss Desi while I mauled her breasts.
“Um… yes. Uh… I’m not like an expert, but even I can see there isn’t room to insert much of anything down here unless this little membrane is removed. I… um…”
Desi gasped and stiffened. Beca fell back on her butt. The rest of us tried to figure out what was going on.
“I’m sorry,” Beca sputtered. “It was just… right there in front of my nose… and you smelled so good… I just had to… taste.”
“Come here,” Desi commanded. Beca scrambled up to Desi and Desi kissed her thoroughly. “We’re going to do a lot of that in the future,” Desi husked.
The party proceeded, mostly just sitting around talking and laughing. Desi never got off my lap, but slid my hand up under her tutu and onto her pussy. I’d never been allowed to touch her inside her panties. I thought the amount of moisture and slickness of what I felt was a lot more than what Beca could have left with her tongue.
I guess I had a new level of access.
When we got home, Em didn’t even pretend to sleep in her room. We got ready for bed and once my door was shut, stripped and crawled into bed. At last, I was holding my naked Em in my arms.
“I’ve missed you so much,” I whispered.
“Oh, yeah. Oh, ye-ess,” she hissed in my ear as I petted her lean body. I noticed changes. Her arm muscles were definitely more defined. Her stomach even flatter and firmer. And her pussy was even wetter than I remembered it having been any time before.
“What would you like?” I whispered. “I’m your slave for the week, after all. How can I best serve you, milady?”
“I want to take a long time slowly making love after you’ve worshipped every inch of my body with your tongue. Later. Right now, I want to feel the love of my life entering me and filling me. Make love to me, J.”
I was happy with that assignment.
“So, you usually have time with Livy to run on Sunday morning, right?” Em whispered as we lay cuddled in the afterglow of lovemaking.
“Usually. I told her I’d text her in the morning if we’re going to run.”
“We are.”
“We?”
“Yes. What I want from my sex slave this week is time with him and each of his other girlfriends. I want to go running with you and Livy and then come back here and make love. I want to dance with you and Brittany and feel the rhythm in her body as we make out. I want to cuddle with Beca and touch those beautiful little titties. I want to play dress up and dress off with Desi. I want to make love with Rachel and with Joan. Do you understand what I’m saying? I have been too far away from our girlfriends. I want you to give me a guided tour of them this week. We’ll make love with those you make love with and we’ll kiss and dance and play with those who aren’t yet to the sex part. I want to be with them all and I want you to lead us.”
“I think that sounds like fun. But, Em… just for now… Can we make love again right now? I’ve missed you so much.”
We hadn’t really had that much sleep when Livy pulled up outside Sunday morning.
“I’m still recovering from that long haul yesterday,” she said. “I hope you aren’t expecting more than 5k this morning.”
“I think that’s all any of us want to try,” I said. “Why don’t we do Kekionga Shores? That’s a 5k.” We piled in the Wrangler and made the short trip in about ten minutes. I let Em have the front seat and lay across the narrow back seat.
“Slow and gentle this morning,” Em said. “We’re not racing.”
It was a nice run and I when we got back to the Jeep and I checked my watch, I wondered when a 30-minute 5k had become slow and easy. It seems I had to work to get down to that just a couple of months ago.
Livy and Em got into the house before I did and I picked up the trail of clothes from the front door to the bathroom as I followed. The shower was already running by the time I had my own clothes off. When I walked into the bathroom, I found my petite sister in the naked embrace of a tall lean Livy. They gave me a quick kiss and got in the shower. I followed happily.
“Be sure to get all the bits good and clean,” Em said as she soaped Livy’s sparse blonde pubic hair. “There will be a lot of oral this morning.”
There was. In about every combination we could manage on my narrow bed. Em finally guided me into Livy’s well-lubricated center as she settled on our girlfriend’s mouth. Em and I kissed as we both fucked Livy and got her off once for each of us. After another quick shower, we were all dressed neatly and sitting in the living room when Mom, Dad, and Pey got home from church. Then we all went to The Pagoda for lunch.
“You probably eat here all the time,” Em sighed. “But I haven’t had decent Chinese food in four months. God knows when I’ll get another opportunity.”
“Where are they sending you?” Livy asked.
“I’ll be based out of San Diego,” Em said. “There isn’t much information given on specific responsibilities before we show up. They said I’d either be making long-haul vegetable runs from the fields to the markets or I’d be supplying bases in the Southwest. I’m not all that enthused about being down there, what with the tensions. It’s like sitting on a powder keg with the troop buildups.”
I’d forgotten all about the tensions at the Mexican border and was hoping it was one of the things that wasn’t the same in this timeline. Some things suck no matter where or when you are.
I’m not sure exactly what went down during the dancing at Brittany’s house. I had a feeling Em did. Or maybe Aunt Sophie. Or both. I hadn’t been invited along when they disappeared after a very hot bit of salsa instruction. Brittany stopped me from looking for them. She simply plastered herself against me and pulled at me until I started moving to the music with her. Brittany’s dancing was always hot but she turned it up during our dance. If we danced like that without all our girlfriends on the dance floor with us, there was no question where we’d end up. Brittany was glued to my leg and rubbing up against my erection. There was a wet spot on my leg when we finished dancing and I had to hold her up at one point when I’m pretty sure she was having a climax.
“I’ll stay a virgin a while longer,” Brittany said. “But I wouldn’t mind doing that again. Any time.” She kissed me then and made sure I understood what she meant.
Monday, I handed another story to Ms. Levy. This one was in a green folder and she opened it immediately. She smiled when she looked up at me.
“Let’s meet Wednesday?” she said.
“Thank you, yes.”
After school, I had my first rehearsal with the trio for the play. It was sort of a get-to-know-you session among the three of us. Of course, I knew my two classmates. Tom was a drummer who played a snare in the marching band, a full kit in the swing band, and the timpani and other percussion instruments in the school orchestra. He was a junior and music wasn’t really his number one passion. From what I’d heard, girls were. He just wanted to be good enough on drums that he could land a spot in a rock band and have a lot of groupies.
Cindy was a waif, not much bigger than Beca. She was a freshman music prodigy who saw music as her life. She was already playing her flute with both the school orchestra and the South Community Center Chamber Orchestra. But flute wasn’t the only thing she played. She was a beautiful pianist and played clarinet as a ‘pastime’. She was very quiet and shy unless she had an instrument in her hands. Then she just blossomed.
“Jacob, play the intro to the piece you played Wednesday,” Ms. Devine said. I thought a moment and began picking the notes. “Stop there, please,” she said when I got about a minute into the piece. “Tom, you had the right idea about using anything nearby as an instrument. What do you hear when Jacob reaches the ‘da-da-da-da la-la-lo’?” she sang. She had a great voice. Tom thought for a second and placed his hands on one of the kettle drums. In a minute he had started using his fingers to tap out a very mellow and rhythmic addition that I could feel as he moved to different areas of the skin and over to the higher pitched drum and back.
Ms. Devine nodded. “Let’s put them together,” she said. She nodded to me to launch into the piece again. I was surprised at how much depth and texture his quiet finger drumming added to the piece. She called a stop again. “I can see you thinking, Cindy. I hear an intermittent descant in about the sixth measure.”
“Yes. Yes, I can hear it.”
“Bring it,” Ms. Devine said. She gave me the signal again and this time, Cindy came in with Tom and me and sent chills down my spine. Ms. Devine called a halt and smiled at us. “Beautiful. Now, where was your sheet music?” she asked.
“Jacob’s got it memorized and we just improvised to the mood he set,” Tom said.
“Exactly. When I heard the three of you audition, I heard the guitar carrying most, but not all, of the main line. I hear the percussion and flute providing accents, overrides, and descants. And periodically, the guitar will be completely silent while one of you becomes the soloist. A combination of sheet music and improvisation. Of course, once you’ve improvised something for the show, you’ll rehearse it together frequently so it is the same every time. I believe the three of you will blend together extremely well,” she said. “I’m not going to belabor the subject today. You are all three excellent instrumentalists. We’ll need to hear the read-through and watch a few of the rehearsals before we know what we are actually accompanying. It will be a mixture of established music and improvisation that will bring this show to life. We’ll stop here for today. Any questions?”
“Yes,” Cindy said, barely above a whisper. She looked at me. “How did you learn to play that beautiful guitar? My fingers itched just watching you move.”
“Oh. Um…” I was on the spot. “I… uh… guess I had a lot of lessons when I was younger but last fall, I was in an accident and didn’t even remember how to read music. When I got my casts off, I needed to exercise my arms and hands. Guitar seemed to come naturally to me, but most of the time I was playing from memory and letting my fingers do what they’d been trained to. I started lessons again after Christmas to get back my ability to read music, which is still not great. My parents bought me this guitar for my sixteenth birthday just two weeks ago. I love it.”
“So do I,” she sighed.
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