Double Time
Chapter 84
“—there was no possible way to deny that this girl probably felt emotions much deeper than most other people. If anyone was human, she was.”
—J. Kowallis, Afterimage
HOW CAN ONE WOMAN dancing alone look like sex is happening right behind me? Yet here was the evidence on video. There was nothing lewd about her dancing. She didn’t strip. But Sophie moved with grace and passion that matched every note I plucked from the guitar. And when Brittany rose to join her, I nearly came again. I uploaded the video to my channel and returned to Brittany’s bedroom.
My body overloaded the first time I came in Sophie and I passed out. I awoke to find Brittany between her aunt’s legs lapping up my spend and Sophie dying a little death while clutching me to her. We made love again and I slid into Sophie while her niece rode her face. Brittany faced me in all her glory and pulled my hands to her breasts as we kissed.
“She’s ours,” she whispered. “She will always be ours.”
Indeed, that seemed to be what Sophie’s voice, muffled by Brittany’s pussy, was saying over and over.
We managed to collect ourselves and have some lunch before Brittany pulled her aunt over the arm of the sofa and directed my cock into her again. So many times V1 had danced with Sophie until we were both naked and making love. And the only difference now was the addition of Brittany to our ecstasy.
Still, I didn’t have intercourse with Brittany. “We’ll save that for now,” she repeated. I had a feeling that when the time came, she would take me completely by surprise. I was content to wait.
We were dressed and selecting music by the time Brittany’s parents returned and soon thereafter our other girlfriends arrived to spend a couple of hours in the carefree entrancement of dance. I noted that Sophie spent a little special time with each of them, no doubt affirming her acceptance in our pod.
“We don’t need to hear the whole story,” Beca said at lunch on Monday. “But was it as wonderful as the video?”
“We didn’t video it. Did we?” I asked, horrified to think that I might have put a sex tape on my YouTube channel.
“That was the hottest video I’ve ever seen where everyone kept their clothes on and no one touched anyone else,” Livy said.
“And Livy would know about hot videos,” Rachel giggled. Livy blushed.
“It was wonderful,” I said. “I’m looking forward to a repeat.”
“She’s going out with us Friday night,” Rachel said.
“And coming to our gathering on Saturday,” Joan confirmed.
“And leaving for New York on Sunday,” Brittany said sadly. “I wish we’d managed this earlier but there has been so much going on. And I’ve been selfishly hogging her attention.”
“I can’t blame you for that,” Beca said. “If she’d been living in my house for six months, I’d never be able to tear myself away.”
“It makes things difficult again,” Desi said. “Or maybe it’s good training. We scarcely adopted her and now she’s leaving for New York. Why is she even bothering to go?”
“She’s a professional dancer and she has a role with the Marian Cortales Dancers. She won’t even be in New York for more than a month before they start their tour. They’ll be all over the country for the next six months,” Brittany said.
“It means we have our second pod member away from home,” I said. “We need to do some serious work on how to keep them engaged with us. Em is miserable out in San Diego and Sophie cried most of yesterday afternoon because she just found what she wanted and has to leave.”
“And my clock is ticking,” Joan sighed. “I’m already dreading it.”
“Did you make love to her?” The whisper was so soft as we were setting up our music stands that I almost missed Cindy’s question. I looked at her and saw she was flushed.
“Cindy, that’s not a question I should—”
“Please,” she begged. “Please tell me that passion goes somewhere beyond the performance. Sometimes when I’m playing, I glimpse a whole different world and I know that one day I’ll be able to step through the gap between them and the music will be so overwhelming that it floods my body and turns me into its own— I’m running off at the mouth,” she concluded quietly. “You don’t need to tell me.”
I considered just dropping it and letting Cindy imagine whatever she wanted to but her yearning was so great, I had to be honest with her.
“Yes,” I whispered. She scooted her chair closer and leaned in to listen. “And it was just like you said. We crossed a gap between two worlds. The music took over our bodies and made us its own. We came together and it was like the music we’d been playing and dancing to wrapped us in a blanket of mystery and elevated us to a supernatural level.”
“I want.”
“Don’t rush, my friend. It took us months to reach that point where everything could come together. The right moment will come for you as well. Right now, we’d better practice so you can stand before your fans and draw them with you into the music.”
“Thank you, Jacob. I appreciate you coming to rehearse with the orchestra even though you don’t work directly with them. It means a lot.”
We were one week away from our recital and it was my first time inside the Civic Arts Center downtown. Rehearsal time in the Center was limited because so many groups performed there. But the chamber orchestra had tonight’s rehearsal and a rehearsal Tuesday next week, the night before the performance. Musicians, I was told, were all responsible for learning their parts independently and being proficient and well-practiced. Rehearsals of the ensemble were for adjusting blend and following the conductor.
Since the Wednesday night rehearsal didn’t start until seven, I drove myself and found parking in the chaos of Fort Wayne’s downtown. It was harder to find the rehearsal entrance to the auditorium, carrying my guitar case and my stool. I was greeted and introduced to Maestro Sokolov, the conductor. He thanked me for attending the rehearsal but didn’t have time for anything else as he had forty-odd musicians to organize. I found a seat in the audience to listen and watch. The Kahn Recital Hall is one of six performance venues in the Arts Center, including the massive Auer Theater where touring companies perform. The Kahn seats 350 and is a comfortably intimate setting.
Cindy’s flute instructor, Jannie, sat next to me.
“It’s a little different than your intimate Sunday morning performances,” she whispered as the musicians settled.
“You know about those?” I asked.
“Oh, yes. This week was stellar.”
“Will we be miked in this space?” I asked, changing the subject away from Sunday’s performance. “It’s so big. I don’t know if the guitar will be heard at all.”
“It has amazing acoustics. Listen.”
The orchestra had come to order. It was almost comical to see all these people dressed in street clothes with instruments in hand. They didn’t look any different than the high school orchestra rehearsing. The way they snapped to attention when the conductor raised his baton, though, was more precise than any military company. I could feel the focus sharpen in the entire room.
There was a burst of music as the baton came down and the orchestra came to life. It proceeded for about two minutes when the conductor dropped the baton and they all fell silent.
“Very good. I wanted to make sure we were together,” Sokolov said. “We will need a little more from second violins at measure 35. Watch for the cue. We will follow the soloist’s timing in the adagio section. She will lead. And now, let us bring her to the stage. Miss Cynthia Marvel.”
Cindy entered from stage right as the orchestra politely applauded her. She bowed to Sokolov and then turned to offer her hand to the first violin. “Concert master,” Jannie whispered to me.
There was little other communication. Cindy stepped forward so she stood parallel to the conductor and nodded to him. He raised his baton and the orchestra came to life. In a measure, Cindy’s flute came to life as well. I sat back and let the sounds wash over me. Perhaps she had been affected by my Sunday concert but I was no less affected by her performance of Cécile Chaminade’s ‘Concertino for flute and orchestra’. I believe I held my breath for ten minutes. When the last notes faded. Cindy bowed and left the stage as the orchestra applauded.
The conductor took the musicians back over a couple of passages of the music, asking for different tones or reminding a section of their cue. They repeated an entire section.
“Now, please give attention to our soloist,” Sokolov said. “Miss Marvel, if you will grace us with ‘Syrinx’.”
Cindy returned to the stage and once again bowed to the conductor and the concert master. Then she stepped forward and raised her flute. The first haunting note of Debussy’s masterpiece choked me up. It was amazing. Less than four minutes and the orchestra never moved. I was amazed at their discipline. I guess they practiced that as well.
Next up was Martin Blessinger’s ‘Rhapsody for Flute and Orchestra.’ Cindy stood half a step downstage from Sokolov with her flute perfectly vertical. She took a deep breath and her head nodded forward slightly. Sokolov’s baton cued the orchestra and a measure later Cindy’s flute was at her lips. This was the longest continuous piece of the program, about fifteen minutes and I couldn’t imagine how she could play for so long and so intensely. There were a few portions where the orchestration took over and the flute was silent, but there were also moments where the entire orchestra was silent as she carried the music forward.
She left the stage after thanking Sokolov and the concert master. The orchestra applauded, most holding an instrument in one hand and slapping their thighs with the other. Cindy bowed to them and left the stage. Sokolov was right back into working on the piece with the orchestra and cuing them at specific points where he’d been dissatisfied with their performance.
Jannie stood and motioned for me to follow.
Backstage, Cindy was panting and being comforted by her mother.
“I’m sorry, Jannie. I’m sorry,” she moaned. “It was awful. I completely missed the cue for the andante. They’ll never want me back.”
“You did fine, Cindy. That is what rehearsal is for. Listen to him out there berating the orchestra for letting you down. You will be fine.” Cindy finally calmed down and went to the restroom, handing her flute to her mother. Wow! I’d never seen the emotional side of Cindy when she was stressed. I could sympathize. There were forty or fifty people out there rehearsing just to accompany her. The pressure must have been incredible.
The orchestra broke up and began packing their instruments. There was quite a shuffle as a stage manager directed the folding of chairs and music stands. Jannie led me to the stage and showed me where to position my stool as they rolled the conductor’s podium out of the way. The stage manager looked at the position of my stool, made sure I was satisfied and marked it with tape on the floor. I saw several orchestra members take a seat in the auditorium and prayed that I wouldn’t make a fool of myself. Or of Cindy.
Maestro Sokolov joined us backstage and Cindy soon returned. He gave us instructions regarding how we should enter. Apparently, all entrances are made from stage right. Something about performance etiquette. I was to enter behind and slightly upstage of Cindy, stop at my stool and hold out my hand to her. I had no idea there was so much staging involved in a music recital. Cindy would turn and we would bow slightly to each other. I would take my position on the stool and Cindy would be slightly ahead of me and to my left.
Then it was show on and we entered as if we were performing. There was even some light applause from the musicians who had stayed to see our rehearsal.
It was Cindy’s show and I cued off her for the beginning of ‘Francesco en Paraiso.’ We were off and running. It was difficult to judge how well the sound was carrying. I knew from listening to the orchestra, there was no difficulty in Cindy’s flute being heard. I wasn’t sure about the guitar. After the first piece, Jannie came up on the stage and was joined by Sokolov. They spoke quietly for a minute and then turned to us.
“Cindy, that was excellent. Your tone is pure. Relax. You aren’t usually this tense. Can you hear Jacob okay?”
“Yes. Not always. I just have to hope he’s there with me,” Cindy said.
“Have faith. He is,” Sokolov said. “Mr. Hopkins, may we adjust your stool and position slightly?” I nodded and stood up. He changed the position and the stage manager rushed on to move the tape. “I believe this will help your sound carry.”
“Do I need to play louder?” I asked.
“No, no. Just let your strings speak. You have a lovely tone. If you push it, you risk losing that softness that supports the flute so well. Miss Marvel, this will help you feel the support he is giving you. I believe you have simply tuned down your ears because of the amount of sound you had with you from the orchestra. Think intimately. You do not need to worry about filling the auditorium with sound, either. You are not competing with the orchestra in this act. Yes?”
“Yes, Maestro. Thank you,” Cindy said.
We didn’t repeat the first piece but moved on to ‘Canción Desierto’ and I felt the blend better just from our repositioning. We paused for only a moment or two and Cindy turned to nod and begin ‘Quijote.’ When she turned back to me at the end of that piece, she was smiling. I nodded to her and we began the mournful lament, ‘Llanto.’ I couldn’t take my eyes off her as we played through the piece and she turned to me once again. I bowed my head to her and she faced forward again. The final piece is ‘Tango Ladeado’ or ‘Tango Off-Center.’ I was still a little high from my Sunday performance of tangoes with Brittany and Sophie. I might have attacked it a little more vigorously than we had rehearsed. Nonetheless, we got a nice round of applause from the musicians who stayed through it and we both stood to bow. I knew enough to simply stand after my simple bow and hold my hand out toward Cindy as she bowed again. I wasn’t expecting her to turn and take my hand to walk off stage.
Saturday afternoon, our group, including Sophie, went to Livy’s basketball game. I think she wanted a little payback against Carroll, the team that had so many great cross country runners. She was high scorer in the thirty point rout of our rivals. We waited long enough for her to shower and then headed to Joan’s.
Our Saturday afternoon session turned into the closest thing to an orgy we’d ever had. Sophie was leaving in the morning and everyone wanted to show her how glad we were to have her with us. Joan’s mother was out for the day and with no one to interrupt us, everyone ended up naked.
We didn’t exactly all just start fucking but we all wanted that extra skin-to-skin contact. It was the first time we’d all been together (less Emily) naked. I’d made love—as in had intercourse—with five of the seven girls present. Beca and Brittany had both been intimate with me and even though I didn’t go down on Brittany, I’d tasted her juices from my fingers Sunday.
Joan had downloaded Brittany’s entire playlist of salsa music and we all danced with each other completely naked. I couldn’t help myself. Even if I was dancing with Beca, my hard cock was slapping against her. She giggled.
“It’s a good thing I like you,” she said. “I could consider this a dangerous weapon otherwise.” She emphasized her words by reaching down and stroking my length a few times.
“God! Beca, you’re going to make me come and then we’ll have to clean the stains out of Joan’s carpet,” I moaned.
“We should put this someplace where it won’t escape then,” she said, tugging me with her. What? She pushed me down on the sofa and grinned at me.
“Sophie, your ride’s here,” Rachel called. The next thing I knew, Sophie was in my lap, leaning back against me. She lifted herself slightly and I slid into her hot depths. I moaned as my other girlfriends gathered around us, kissing and sucking on whatever they could reach. I felt pressure to part my legs and then someone was between them, licking up my balls and shaft to capture Sophie’s nub. I looked down over Sophie’s shoulder and there was enough break in the action when she moaned that I could see Beca’s light brown hair bobbing between our legs. Behind her, Brittany was leaning in to play with Beca’s little tits.
The other four girls quickly returned to kissing us, sucking on Sophie’s nipples, and pushing our fingers into their sopping pussies.
Sophie squealed first but I wasn’t far behind. I started pumping jet after jet of semen into her pussy until it ran out around my cock and down my balls. And then I felt Beca licking my balls and cleaning around my cock. I shot again.
“I can’t have it tattooed,” Sophie said. “I’d lose my job and any chance of performing with other companies. Tattoos are absolutely forbidden in our business.”
“Most of us can’t get it tattooed either,” I said. “We have an alternative.”
“We do?” Beca said. We’d finally managed to get dressed, but were still all cuddled together in Joan’s family room. We’d just presented Sophie with the design for our group symbol that Joan intended to have tattooed on her butt soon.
“Yeah. These arrived last night,” I said. “Mom ordered them for us. I think they turned out pretty good.” I went to my pack and produced a bag that I emptied out in the middle of the room. “She suggested that we keep a few in reserve for when we add new members but also said she could order more pretty cheaply now that the company has the design.” In front of us was a pile of embroidered patches with our pod design. It was slightly different than the original design. Joan had intended it to be black figures with red hearts. What we end up with was a black patch with gold figures and red hearts. I looked at her to see if she approved.
“Parents,” she huffed. “Always have to improve on things.”
“Is it okay?” I asked.
“It’s beautiful. But I’m still going to get the tattoo.”
“I can put this on my dance bag. And my jacket,” Sophie said as she grabbed two patches.
“Take a couple more to add places you think of. I think Mom ordered a gross of them,” I laughed.
“She must think we’re going to build a whole town,” Rachel said. “But I’m pretty sure I’ve got a place for six or seven of them.”
“They have an adhesive back,” I said, “but the company recommends stitching them on if possible. I think gluing it to the cover of our laptops is a perfect place to start.”
“Car,” Livy said.
“Purse,” Desi added.
“We’ll be identified,” Beca said. “You guys realize this means the whole school will know we are a pod.”
“I bet we won’t be the only ones,” Brittany said. “We’re just starting a trend.”
Comments
Please feel free to send comments to the author at devon@devonlayne.com.
