Double Time
Chapter 87
“What's the difference between a classical guitar and a pizza? A pizza can feed a family of four.”
—Faye Kellerman, Hangman
“I DIDN’T GET A CHANCE to tell you Wednesday evening,” I said to Cindy as we were opening our instrument cases. “You look really… um… pretty in that dress. More… um… mature.” I wanted to say that she looked gorgeous and sexy but, in some ways, she looked like a little girl playing dress-up. Only the dress fit. Really well.
“Thank you,” she whispered. I hardly ever heard Cindy use her full voice. Or maybe that was her full voice. I couldn’t imagine what it would be like for a slight girl to grow up with two noisy athletic brothers. “I really appreciate you having gone to such an effort to match. We make a good pair. On stage.”
“You know what my videos usually look like. Do you have any suggestions for what we should do today?”
“I think it should be as much like usual as possible. We’re partners in this so I don’t want to stand in front of you like at the recital concert,” she said. “After all, it’s your YouTube channel.”
“Do you have one?” I asked. She nodded. “There’s no reason we can’t upload the video to both channels. Your fans should have access to it as well.”
“Thank you, Jacob. Tune?”
We spent the next few minutes making sure our instruments were tuned together as our friends and families filed into the music room and found seats. I tested our positions to be sure we were both in the camera frame. I wasn’t too sure how my mike would pick up her flute so we played a little warm up piece—just some exercises—so I could decide if I needed to shift the mike around. The acoustics in the music room were different than the concert hall but overall it wasn’t bad.
“After I heard these two play on Wednesday evening, I just thought that they should have a recording,” Ms. Devine said to the group. “I’m glad you all came to hear the new duo, Marvel and Hopkins.” She sat down and people settled. I turned on the video and nodded to Cindy.
I’d like to say it was as good as it had been Wednesday evening. Working in Kahn Recital Hall was pretty special and added to the performance. Nonetheless, we connected. It was different having Cindy back where we could catch each other’s eye as we played. We’d discovered how easy it was to connect when we played ‘Tango Ladeado’ and the rollicking ‘Mozart in Hell’ or ‘Libertango’. I think it took us both by surprise when we connected on the lament, ‘Llanto’. All of a sudden, she was there… I mean right with me. We were like one person playing two instruments. It was sweet and sad and wistful. When we finished it, we had to pause a minute to get ourselves centered again for the ‘Tango Ladeado’. Well, I could edit out the awkward pause.
We did it. We got right back to our more rapid-paced connection and went almost seamlessly from that to ‘Mozart in Hell’. When we finished, Cindy was inches from my face and we smiled at each other. I was thankful the people watching and listening let the last notes fade before they started applauding.
27 January 2020
I talked to Em for a long time last night. I need to find a way to get out there for a visit. This being separated sucks royally. Maybe it would be different if her job was exciting or even interesting. She’s out of her probationary period and now she has to work Saturday and Sunday since she’s the new kid. She works four tens and is off Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday. She wasn’t able to watch my concert with Cindy until she got home at eight last night and by then it was almost midnight when we finally got to talk.
She’s lonely. She even said she’s going to move back to the barracks at the end of the month so she’ll see other people at night. Once she has her truck loaded in the morning, the bulk of the day is spent alone with just brief conversations with receiving clerks for the rest of the day.
She calls the place she’s moving barracks but that isn’t really what it is. A small college near San Diego finally gave up and closed its doors. Declining enrollment has hit schools hard and it didn’t have anything ‘special’ to offer. The campus has been nationalized. The dormitories have been turned into housing for people doing Service. That’s housing for a couple of thousand. Em says one of the good things is that there’s a library and an auditorium where they hold performances of various sorts. She hasn’t been able to attend any yet because of her work schedule but I guess they aren’t all on weekends.
We compared schedules and she’s going to try to get a week off that corresponds to my spring break. We might have to share some of the time with the rest of the family but I just want to hold her and tell her how much she means to me. To all of us.
My new popularity as news of the Sunday concert spread Monday was short-lived. We had a huge amount of homework for all our classes. I wasn’t practicing for a recital any longer so I could go home right after school. Until track season started in two weeks. It was amazing how quickly people stopping to congratulate me at lunch turned into people stopping to wish Livy good luck. Our girls’ basketball team was hot and sectionals were this weekend.
“Let’s just do study time at my house in the afternoons,” Joan said. “We can divide up into whatever groups we need to study. Livy, you can come over right after practice and we’ll still have a chance to go over the Constitutional Government notes. And I need help on my AP Human Geography retake. I seem to recall some people owing me assistance from last year.”
“I think that’s a great idea,” I said. “And I’ll help on your project any way you’d like.”
“The only problem with that is our study sessions… Well, it’s the only time of the week that Jacob and I get to… you know…” Desi was blushing.
“No one’s going to notice if once or twice a week you disappear into my room for a little while,” Joan giggled. “Just don’t leave a wet spot in my bed unless you plan to stay the night and sleep on it.”
“That opens all kinds of possibilities,” Beca said, kissing our lover on the cheek.
“Hey, this might be too embarrassing for a lunchroom conversation,” Rachel said, leaning in and dropping her voice. “But we need to be able to talk about these things with each other if we’re really all a pod. How are we all doing… you know, sexually? I mean is anyone feeling like they aren’t getting the attention they need from any of our partners?”
“Wow, Rachel. You put it right out there in the middle of the table,” Beca said.
“Yeah, but she’s right,” Joan said. “We do need to be able to talk about these things. If we were just a couple, we’d talk about our needs, wouldn’t we?” she asked Beca.
“We do,” Beca affirmed. “And you’re right, we talk as couples within our group but we need to talk all together as well. I feel pretty good about the level of attention I’m getting from all of you. I think I’d like to spend a little more time cuddled between Desi’s breasts. They’re so cushiony.”
“I only ever get time with Jacob and with Rachel,” Livy said. “It’s my own fault for the kind of schedule I have. Jacob and I sometimes go to his house after a morning run and hop in the shower together. Rachel sometimes comes over and wakes me up on Sunday morning so we can watch his concert together and then make love. But I don’t feel like I’ve made enough of a connection with the rest of you. And I want to.”
We didn’t have time to continue our discussion because the bell rang for class and we all had to hurry. It was clear, though, that part of our study time each evening was going to be spent talking about our relationships. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.
“We need to talk.” V1 had some pretty horrendous memories that started with those words. It seemed like they were always associated with some complaint or another. Probably legitimate complaints but humiliating and guilt-inducing all the same. “You aren’t pulling your weight around the house. It’s like you expect me to do everything, including raising your children for you.” I sighed. I went to work every day and came home tired at night and she wanted me to run the vacuum?
I had to struggle into enlightenment. That’s one of the things that was missed in the #metoo movement. Yes, the things we did were offensive and demeaning to women. They were wrong. But they were accepted. We didn’t stop to consider how our actions made others ‘feel’ because it had just always been this way. A whistle at a woman in the office was a compliment. She went to all that work to get her makeup right and wear those high heels and tight skirt. She deserved to be appreciated.
We learned. Probably one of the greatest contributions of the hippie generation and women’s liberation. We found out what pigs we were. Some ignored the revelation and continued right into the highest levels of corporate and government offices still being pigs. Others of us made an effort to reform. Did I regret having overridden the protests of a girlfriend I was trying to feel up? Philosophically, yes. Practically, I could still remember the charge I got when she came on my finger and I spurted between hers. She had to have wanted it, right?
“We need to talk.” I learned playing with the kids when I got home from work was not ‘babysitting,’ it was being a father. My wife’s vagina was not an open tunnel constantly awaiting my cock to fill it. My job didn’t actually require ten hours a day instead of eight—two of which were unpaid since I was salaried. My secretary’s ass was hers to do with as she pleased, not mine to pat as she walked by. And I didn’t have to have two martinis and a cigar every evening to unwind.
By the time V1 met Renie, I’d lived alone for nearly five years after Rebecca’s death. I was fully domesticated. I did my own laundry. I cooked my own meals. I cleaned my own house. Renie made it clear she would help with those chores and share the workload of maintaining our home, but she had a career as well. She went to work each day just like I did. She needed a martini in the evening to wind down, too.
I noticed, though, that when I hit retirement, I started to slide back into that mold of the pig my contemporaries had all been before we were enlightened. I could be deeply offended by the accusations of sexual assault, the language our politicians used, the subtle and not so subtle discrimination against women in the workplace. And then, inside, V1 would shrug and say, “That’s just the way the world is.”
“We need to talk,” I said to my girlfriends Wednesday evening. “I’m feeling really guilty.”
“What did you do?” Brittany asked. Leave it to our youngest girlfriend to get straight to the point.
“Um… I don’t know if it’s something specific or if I’m just generally an ass,” I said. “I feel guilty about having seven girlfriends. And then I mention Sophie or Nanette or Donna Levy and you all say, ‘Yeah, go for it.’ I feel like I’m cheating on you. Not just with them but cheating on Rachel when I’m with Desi or on Livy when I’m with Joan. Doesn’t it strike any of you as weird that I’m sleeping with four of you in this room, fooling around lusting after one, trying to figure out how to make trips to San Diego or New York to be with two others, and having a tongue battle almost every morning with another? I feel like it’s not fair to any of you.”
There. I said it. I’d probably never get laid again. V1 had taken over and ruined my chances at all this teen pussy. And all these beautiful relationships that I had with these wonderful women who I loved.
And all six of them were sitting around nodding their heads.
“I understand,” Beca said. “Sometimes I get a knot in my stomach when I think of you making love to Joan without me. And there are times I feel guilty when I’m between Rachel’s soft, smooth, round, beautiful thighs…” she paused to sigh and everyone looked at Rachel, who gradually opened her legs. Even though she was wearing jeans, we all could see what Beca was describing. Beca shook her head and picked up her train of thought. “There are times I feel like I’m cheating on Joan and on Jacob and making Rachel cheat on her lover. And then it kind of washes over me that I’m her lover. Not that Jacob isn’t. Not that Joan isn’t my lover. But that Rachel and I are lovers. And that doesn’t stop me from loving Joan or Rachel from loving Jacob.”
“Relationships can be a burden,” Rachel said. “Especially in high school. You get guilty because you aren’t spending all your time with one person. I think of it and say, ‘Thank God I don’t have to be on tonight.’ We have ‘couple’ things we do. We have ‘girl’ things we do. We have ‘group’ things we do. But what we really do is share the burden.”
“Wow! That puts it in perspective,” I sighed. I was a burden.
“Jacob, you’re letting past life memories control you. Just look at me and tell me. Do you love me?” Brittany asked as she came to stand in front of me.
“God, yes, I love you, Britt.”
“But you haven’t even had sex with me. Still, you love me. And I know you do. As long as each of us knows we are loved by each of the others, that’s what’s important. Not which of us you are screwing,” she said. She reached for the hem of her T-shirt and pulled it over her head, then unfastened her bra. Two beautiful firm breasts with their brown nipples pointed toward me. “Cuddle me and caress me and suck on my breasts,” she whispered. “I’m not ready to have your penis in my vagina yet, but if you get me really turned on, I’m going to ask Livy to get her fingers in it. And her tongue. Won’t you do that for your lovers?”
Yeah. I guess that was the end of our talk for a while. It was hard to talk with my mouth full of Britt’s tits.
Girls’ Basketball Sectionals were at our school. The preliminaries were Friday afternoon and the finals were on Saturday. Of course, we were all there after school ready for the first game. Wow! Poor St. Joseph’s! We played all second string in the second half and still blasted them 76-13. It seemed like anything the girls threw at our hoop sank and St. Joseph’s couldn’t even get a shot off. We didn’t stay for the second game. After Livy was showered and dressed, we all headed for Joan’s house. It had become our default meeting space and since Joan turned eighteen, Sharon just left us alone.
“I felt so bad for them,” Livy said. “We were all excited when we got on the floor and were ready to do our best but by the time the score reached 30-2 we were all feeling guilty about scoring. But what could we do? You have to shoot within twenty-four seconds. Everything we shot went in.”
“Poor baby,” Rachel said. “Maybe you can lose tomorrow.” We all laughed and gorged ourselves on pizza. Then we decided Livy needed to be massaged and there were twelve hands that could work on her at the same time. I don’t think she got an orgasm from every one of them, but she seemed pretty relaxed by the time we were done.
Saturday it was threatening snow all day but never broke. Livy’s team went up against South, who had mastered Central the night before, 91-43. Mad Anthony took the court ready for a tough battle that night. And the first half looked like it was all defense. We led 28-22 at the end of the half. In the second half, though, Livy and the girls broke loose and started showing what makes a sectional champion. They cut the nets off the baskets after a 63-36 win. We’d be going to Kokomo for regionals next weekend.
After the game Saturday night, Rachel came home with me. Or vice versa. She was driving but to my house. Mom, Dad, and Pey were at her house for game night. Of course, Livy’s family had been at the game and were joining the team celebration.
“Why are we so special?” I whispered to my lover as we lay in bed. We hadn’t wasted time in getting undressed and in bed, but once there we just lay skin-to-skin and held each other.
“You sure are introspective this week, Jacob.”
“Yeah. I guess so. It’s just that the recital and concert with Cindy last week got me thinking. People started suggesting that she’d be part of our pod and I kept thinking, ‘Stop! She’s just a little girl!’ I know we connected during our duo but it wasn’t sexual. We didn’t fall in love with each other. We shared an intensely intimate experience of music. That’s all. And we shared it with the world.”
“No one is going to push you to make love to her or to make her part of our pod,” Rachel said softly. “It was just so easy to see the connection while you were playing. It transcended age. It transcended the music and the room. I could easily see her becoming closer to you over the next few years. Maybe not as close as we are right now, but closer than you think.”
“I suppose. I just know that when I’m lying here in your arms, I feel so whole and complete. I can’t imagine anyone else intruding on that,” I said. I petted her breasts and down her stomach as she squirmed closer to me.
“Unless I whisper in your ear, ‘Emily.’ Then you rise even harder than you normally are with me,” she said, demonstrating.
“No fair. You know how I feel about Em. How we’re woven together.”
“Then perhaps I should whisper, ‘Olivia.’ Would that put a damper on our love?” She stroked my cock and I started to pant. It was getting intense and mentioning Livy didn’t slow that down at all. She did the same thing to Rachel and I could feel her moistening on my fingers. “What if I dialed it back and just thought about Brittany for a bit. That black hair and those round plump breasts. She wanted Livy between her legs, but when you were finished, I got to suck on her nipples.”
“Rachel, you’re making this hard.”
“I sure am. Just thinking about the day to come when you’ll slide between her pussy lips and feel your cock up inside her probably makes you think about Sophie, doesn’t it?”
“You’re going to make me come if you keep this up,” I said. She spread her legs wider to give me better access and I found a lot more juice there than I had a moment ago.
“When we talk about nipples, Desi and Joan have the best, don’t they?” Rachel continued. I found the nub of her clit and began to press on it. “Yesss. I understand why Desiree wants to show off her breasts. Did you fuck between them? Of course, you did. And if my nipples were as sensitive as Joan’s, you’d never see me in a shirt or bra. I’d be coming all the time.” I gave a jerk between her fingers as she collected my precome and smeared it down my shaft.
“Rachel, do you want to make love now?” I asked. She seldom wanted us to come in any way but connected. Still she wasn’t slowing the pace of her hand job and neither was I. She kissed me and I tried to hold her there so she couldn’t continue. I knew what came next and didn’t want her to say it.
“Rebeca,” she whispered as she twisted her hand around my cock and pressed downward. I fired. There was no stopping it. I could tell myself all I wanted that it was because of the expertise of Rachel’s hand but I could never deny that the trigger had been her whispering Beca’s name. My fingers twitched and Rachel joined in my orgasm.
We didn’t stop there. We continued making love long after Mom and Dad had returned home and put Pey to bed. And while the mess of my first come was still warm, I slid into my lover and lost my soul in her depths.
When I woke up in the morning with Rachel’s head on my shoulder, I decided I wasn’t going to move the bed for my guitar concert this morning. I tried not to disturb her as I got my camera and mike set up but she opened her eyes and ran to the bathroom. When she returned, I noticed she hadn’t bothered to brush her hair but had stopped to brush her teeth. She kissed me and slid back under the covers.
I didn’t bother with clothes either. We were covered but it would be obvious to anyone who watched this video that we’d been making love and would continue to do so as soon as I finished playing. I started the video and kissed her, then began playing. I started with ‘Besame Mucho’ and proceeded to ‘Solamente una Vez’. Rachel looked up at me and occasionally reached to touch my shoulder or my chest. I could hear in my mind the various calypso beats that a drum or castanets would add as I played ‘Begin the Beguine’. I added them with a tap on the guitar body with my little finger and went into ‘Girl from Ipanema’. By the time I’d finished ‘Aquellos Ojos Verdes’ Rachel had wrapped an arm around me and was kissing her way up my side. I was afraid she’d come uncovered, so I wrapped up the concert with ‘Angelitos Negros’. I set my guitar aside and slid down under the covers with her. Then I clicked off the camera.
Rachel and I made love again.
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