Double Time
Chapter 73
“We are not even a speck of dust in the cells of the Cosmos.”
—H. Gibson, Taming Encha
THURSDAY MORNING, Nanette was surprised to have Em jump in the front seat of her car as I crawled into the tiny back seat. They’d met at the Labor Day run so getting to know each other wasn’t a problem. We all three set an easy pace and ran together at the golf course while we talked. Mostly, Em and Nanette talked. There was an exchange about what Em would be doing and how she felt about National Service. To say she was ambivalent would be kind.
“So how are you going to handle running when it starts getting really cold and dark out?” Em asked when we got back to the car. “It’s Halloween and we could see our breath the whole distance this morning. I’m worried about you out here running if there’s ice.”
“I think we’ll be okay until Thanksgiving, at least,” Nanette said. “We’ve got the option of running at The Plex but face it, doing five miles on a quarter mile track is nowhere near as interesting as five miles outside. I don’t want either Jacob or me to come into next season and not be fit, so somehow, we’ll move inside during the bad weather times. I’m going to make sure he gets a good workout every day if he’ll let me.”
They talked about the benefits of indoor versus outdoor running and other workouts. The least favorite for a long-distance runner was the treadmill, but we admitted it was better than nothing if push came to shove. We pulled up in front of our house and Em reached across the seat to touch Nanette’s face.
“We all respect your caution over the past six months and all you’ve given to help J fully recover. By ‘all,’ I mean the seven girls who have attached themselves to my brother, including me. We’ll continue to be cautious and keep anyone under sixteen chaperoned when you are around. But we want you to know that if you are interested… or willing… or whatever develops… It’s okay with us. Very okay.” Em leaned forward and put a kiss on Nanette’s lips. There was only a moment’s hesitancy before Nanette met the kiss with her own enthusiasm.
“We’ll see,” she said. “There’s just something. You know?”
“Yeah. Don’t I know, though.”
School rules get bent a little on Halloween. I missed it last year, but it seemed like half the students wore some kind of costume. The only thing we couldn’t do was wear a mask. Makeup, however, was taken to extremes. Desi and her mom had measured everyone in our pod and since she and I were preparing cosplay for Fort Wayne PopCon, all the other girls got custom High School DxD school uniforms. Beca made the cutest Koneko ever. My prosthetic arm for Issei was painted and looked good, but none of the special effects worked yet. Riley wanted to save those for the show.
Even Em had a costume and was beautiful as Rossweisse. She slipped in to school to have lunch with us and for the first time I realized we made a statement. I was at a table with my seven women. And we were dressed in a manner that left no doubt we were part of a single unit.
Thursday night, all eight of us accompanied Pey, Richard, Donnie, Barb, Lisa, and Joyce—the younger siblings of those of us who had them—as we walked through neighborhood after neighborhood so the kids could trick or treat. We didn’t go up to the doors to collect candy but every once in a while, a nice person would invite us up to the door and compliment us on our costumes, thanking us for escorting the younger kids and giving us a treat. The kids made an incredible haul. We didn’t do too badly, either.
I was looking forward to Friday night and kind of dreading it, too. The week with Em home had flown by. Every night she was in my bed and we made love. There was no way to slake my thirst for her. I wanted to be with her, be in her, as much as possible. When she left for San Diego, we knew it would be at least six months before she got another week off. Holidays like Christmas and Thanksgiving were time off for Service people just like everyone else. But the distance would prevent us from getting together. Mom and Dad were talking about possibly going out to San Diego during part of our holiday but we’d have to wait and see what Em’s job and free time were like.
And we’d spent quality time with each of our girlfriends. Intimate time, no matter how advanced our relationship was. We shared each at the level of love and intimacy that was appropriate for us.
Except Rachel.
Friday night was date night with Rachel and we’d go pick her up for a change instead of her coming to get me. And as we were getting into Em’s Prius, Rachel’s parents and brother were stopping at our house for game night. That meant…
“We have the house to ourselves,” Rachel said as she kissed each of us when we came to the door. “Do you really want to go out somewhere?”
“We came here for you, Rachel,” Em said. “Lead us to where you want us.”
That took only a few moments to get to Rachel’s lower level bedroom. I noted that it was a little less… cluttered than when I had visited in times past and I wondered if Rachel was trying to impress my sister.
We didn’t just strip and start balling. Knowing that we had the house to ourselves for at least the next four hours, we just relaxed. Rachel had added some fluffy pillows to her bed and we just cuddled up against the wall to hold each other and talk. And kiss, a lot.
“I’ve encountered a couple of people who have formed pods,” Em said. “From what I’ve been able to gather, they are still a little way from official recognition. You know, it’s one of those unintended consequences. Instead of preventing unions from occurring by moving us around and shifting groups, the domestic unions comprise more members. However, everything I’ve heard so far is that they are much easier to form before Service than during. It’s way too early to have significant data.”
“I just want us to weather the separations and reunions,” Rachel said. “I’m in the Constitutional Government class with Joan and Livy this year. There seems to be a real movement starting to Repeal 28. The honchos are going to discover that either they need to modify the regulations and procedures or they’ll lose their little brainchild completely.”
“Has there ever been an amendment repealed other than prohibition?” I asked. I’d wracked my brain to remember if this reality had prohibition and it did.
“No. For the most part a new amendment or a repeal depends on a critical event to motivate it,” Em said. “Congress proposes around 200 amendments per legislative class. Somewhere around thirty-five have gone to the states for ratification, of which twenty-eight have made it. The National Service amendment wouldn’t have passed if it weren’t for the terrorist attack on 9/11. Abolition of slavery was spurred by the Civil War. Presidential term limit was spurred by Roosevelt’s election to a fourth term. There has to be a catalyst. I’d guess there won’t be a repeal of 28 unless there is an out-and-out slave revolt.”
“What does it mean for us?” I asked. “Do we need to formalize our pod? What about adding or subtracting members? You as much as invited Nanette to join us yesterday.”
“I wouldn’t count Donna Levy out, either,” Rachel said. “Think of how she is supporting you. Jacob, teachers don’t reach out and touch their student’s cheek like she did yours on Wednesday. And don’t forget others of us have been working on her, too. Joan was one of her students sophomore year and has remained close to her. She suggested that we’d started a pod and Donna seemed interested.”
“That crosses so many lines,” I said. “She’s a teacher and any involvement with us risks both professional repercussions and criminal in some cases. Besides, she’s getting married.”
“Wrong,” Rachel said. “She was engaged but broke it off two weeks ago. I think she’s subconsciously making preparations.”
That boggled my mind. Donna Levy as part of our pod? A lover? I’d been infatuated with her since my first time through high school in the fifties. It was no less now. I felt Em’s hand on my hard-on.
“Someone likes the idea of having her in our pod,” she giggled. Rachel reached out and joined her hand. Both girls leaned in for a kiss and I filled my hands with their soft flesh.
That was the end of our discussion of constitutional government.
Joan had SATs on Saturday morning. Em was committed to doing a shopping trip with Mom and Pey. It was supposed to be to get a few special things for Pey but I knew Mom planned to get Em some new clothes and shoes to start her new job with. I was glad my parents were investing in her since the amount she earned wouldn’t cover any significant expenditure for clothing.
Nanette picked me up for our Saturday run and we drove to Matea Park north of Fort Wayne. It’s a county park and has a ton of trails. The big slowdown is a rather precarious crossing of Willow Creek, a tributary of the St. Joseph River just below Cedarville Reservoir.
“We can run the first three miles together,” Nanette said. “We’ll do it as a hard run—race pace. Then you should walk it off for a mile or so and pick up a gentler run for at least five miles. I’d like to know how far you feel comfortable running and what pace you set, so set your watch to record your route, distance, and time. Don’t feel like you need to knock yourself out. Even walk a while if you want to. You’ll have plenty of time. This is my twenty-two-mile training run. If I feel strong, I’ll tack four more miles onto it. We’re four weeks from the Bloomington Marathon. It’s the last long run I’ll do before then. I’ll be back in about three hours. Let’s go.”
She was off and I was trying to keep up. It surprised me that my race pace was now almost the same as Nanette’s in the 5k. I really wanted to train hard enough to make the varsity cross country squad next year. There was no trouble running all our team in the first few races but when it gets down to the county and sectional races, we can only field seven runners. The State Championships had been twenty-four teams and about sixty independent runners. Teams were limited to seven runners each so there were just 200 runners total. Can you imagine what it would have been if each team ran a dozen? Or more? I wanted to be in that top seven next year and I’d have to be below a six-minute mile in order to do it.
Nanette made the milepost a bit before me and jogged in place a minute while I caught up.
“Walk it off, rehydrate, and keep running,” she said. “I’m headed to the creek crossing and will be back at the car in about two-and-a-half hours. You set?”
“I’m set. Run well. I’ll give you a rubdown when you get back.” She cocked an eyebrow at me and smiled, then took off up the north trail. I walked about five minutes and then settled back into a gentle pace. This part of the run wasn’t about speed for me. It was all about distance. I wondered if I could run for two-and-a-half more hours.
The answer was ‘not quite.’ I was out for an hour and forty-five minutes when my pace finally slowed to the point where I was walking. Then I had to stop and check the GPS on my phone to figure out where the hell I was and how to get back to the car. It was another two miles, so I hadn’t been there all that long when Nanette ran up. She was about to collapse, so I looped her arm over my shoulder to hold her up and we started walking.
“I was so involved listening to the voices in my head that I got lost,” I chuckled. “Had to use the GPS to get back. But, including the walking, I covered fifteen miles.”
“Yeah. Good,” she panted. “You can run a half-marathon. I did twenty-three miles and will have to go three more in Bloomington.”
“You’ll make it. You were running all out for the first three miles today. You won’t do that in a race,” I said.
“I wanted to make sure you got a good workout,” she said. “You’re good for me, Jacob. You keep me working hard. Thank you.”
I pulled her around to face me and before she could protest, closed to a kiss. It only took a moment before she relaxed into it and joined in a brief tongue battle. She pulled away, still panting—both of us a little dry in the mouth for kissing seriously. We took drinks from our camelbacks and continued to walk.
“I’m not as sure that is good for me,” she sighed. “But I liked it. Didn’t you promise me a rubdown now?”
We grabbed the blanket from the back of her car and spread it out in the softest place we could find. She lay on her stomach and I started working on her—legs first but I did a thorough job on her back muscles before setting in to squeeze and mold her butt. Occasionally, she’d squirm a little or shift her weight beneath my hands.
“Front,” she said as she rolled over. I learned the names of the anterior tibialis and the rectus femoris as the major muscles in the front of the leg. The tibialis is the muscle that is most often attributed to shin splints. The rectus femoris is the large front thigh muscle that runs all the way from the hipbone to the knee. It connects to some interesting places in between. I really tried not to get aroused while massaging Nanette’s legs but I was rubbing right up into her crotch by the time we were finished and my running shorts were tented.
We stood up and each had another long drink of water. Then Nanette turned me toward her and put her hands behind my neck to bring our lips together. We’d both recovered our wind this time and had rehydrated our mouths, so we kept this kiss a good bit longer as we ground against each other.
“We’ll see how we both—all—feel after Bloomington,” she whispered. Then we headed back home.
There wasn’t any studying at Joan’s house Saturday afternoon. Joan was exhausted after spending the morning on the SATs. It was cute to see her in a role reversal curled up in Beca’s lap in the big chair. Beca cooed over her and petted her. Desi immediately claimed Em. The two girls sat on the floor on some big cushions and just talked quietly and petted. Brittany curled up on my lap at one end of the sofa with Rachel and Livy stretched out beside us with their heads propped against us.
A lot of hands were being held, a few little kisses were being exchanged. In a way, it felt like we’d all been through a hell of a week. Really, we’d all been trying to get as much of Emily as we could before she left for her permanent assignment. She’d become more than our girlfriend or my sister. She was the symbol of what it would mean to leave our group and go into Service with every intent of returning to the group. In the spring, it would be Joan’s turn. We were all going to do two years of service. There wasn’t a choice.
Joan got up from Beca’s lap after giving her a long sensuous kiss. Rachel took Brittany’s hand and led her to the big chair, which Beca yielded. Desi unceremoniously laid down on top of Livy, pinning her to the sofa while Beca straddled my lap and gave me a kiss. I glanced over to find Joan being rocked in Em’s arms. No one coordinated these shifts. We just moved according to our own whims. After she’d kissed me thoroughly, Beca lay her head against my shoulder and we just held each other.
“Has Jacob been a good sex slave this week, Em?” Desi asked. “I need to know whether I have to follow through on the agreement.”
“I think he’s been stellar,” Em said, smiling over Joan’s head. “He will take care of your little problem with gentleness and love. And yes, everyone, we investigated thoroughly and found Desiree Whitcomb to be a bona fide hymen-intact virgin.”
“Hey,” Livy said as she squeezed Desi’s boobs, “how come that was important? I came late to the party so maybe everybody else knows. Why did you think it was so important to stay an intact virgin until you sold yourself to Jacob?”
“We’ve never really gotten that part of the story,” Beca said. “Tell us, Desi.”
“Bette Davis,” Desi sighed.
“Isn’t she some old-fashioned actress?”
Are you kidding? Bette Davis was a staple of my teens in the ’50s. She was already nearing fifty when she played Margot Channing in Something About Eve and was brilliant. ‘Fasten your seatbelts, it’s going to be a bumpy night,’ became a standard line for pulling an all-nighter in college. Bette Davis. That sure brought back some memories.
“You know my parents are theater people and theater people have a tendency to like the dramatic. Nothing captures the dramatic like a 1940s or 50s vision of Hollywood. We watched old movies every night. We mostly watch online now, but back then—haha, seven or eight years ago—we watched cable classic movie channels. One of the movies we watched was The Virgin Queen with Bette Davis, Richard Todd, and Joan Collins. Being the smart little shit that I was, I wanted to know what it meant to be a virgin queen. I don’t think Riko and Riley were prepared to answer my questions at that age and the more they talked the deeper they got into details. When I asked, ‘How would anyone ever know?’ they told me about the hymen. Of course, I had to investigate. I determined right then and there that I’d be a virgin queen, assuming I could become queen if I was a virgin, even if I wasn’t royal.”
“That’s too funny!” Brittany laughed. “What is Jacob? Your Sir Walter Raleigh?”
“Oh, things kind of got messed up in my brain as I got older and hit puberty. Like ‘Would I still be a virgin if I used a tampon?’ I think that’s when I made the decision to stay an intact virgin until I chose who I wanted to claim me. I hate to say it, but I chose Jacob months before the auction and he was the only one I announced it to.”
“And to think I lost my virginity on a pile of dirty laundry,” Rachel laughed.
“If a hymen is required for virginity, I lost mine riding a bicycle when I was seven,” Livy responded. “I don’t think you’d find a female athlete much older than that with a cherry.”
“Uncle Bryce made sure I didn’t have to worry about it back when I was twelve,” Joan murmured. A shift in people started again and Joan was held between Rachel and Livy. Brittany and Em were in the big chair and Desi nudged Beca far enough that she could get on my lap, too.
“What happened?” Rachel urged Joan.
“Oh, he didn’t fuck me. He just stuck a finger in me. I screamed and he pulled out a bloody digit. He was trying to be all subtle about feeling me up with other people around and when I screamed, everyone turned and saw his bloody finger.”
“Did he go to prison?”
“Six months, when everyone in the family except his father turned on him. Now he lives on a ranch in Wyoming as a registered sex offender.” Poor Joan.
“I don’t remember losing my cherry,” Em confessed. “I’d been playing around with a hairbrush for quite a while. I remember the first time I had sex clearly enough but there was no bloody evidence so I must have lost it sometime before that. How about you, sweetie pie? Is it a big deal in your family?”
“To my grandmother,” Brittany said. “She drilled it into me from when I was little that I couldn’t wear white on my quinceañera unless I was a virgin. She made Aunt Sophie check. That ended up being a nice experience of its own.”
“But you wore peach to your quinceañera,” I blurted out.
“Grandma was appalled. But I didn’t want you to think we were getting married. I just wanted to have a fun party.”
“And that leaves us with you, Beca. Do you still have your cherry?” Desi asked.
“Um…” Beca buried her face in my shoulder. “I don’t remember ever having one. It must be like an athlete. I just don’t remember one at all.”
Well, that could be because she had a cock and balls at that age, but I was never going to say anything about that.
That was when I realized I had a strange sort of power. I could hurt someone so badly with my knowledge, she would never recover. Even a careless word could put Beca so far beyond help that I would never reach her.
Please, God be my helper. Never let me step over that line.
END PART VI
Comments
Please feel free to send comments to the author at devon@devonlayne.com.
