Double Tears
Part XII: Pressurization
Chapter 137
“We are the music makers, and we are the dreamers of dreams.”
—Arthur William Edgar O’Shaughnessy, Poems of Arthur O’Shaughnessy
NEEDLESS TO SAY, Cindy and I did not get to watch Livy lead her team to a 63-40 victory over Northridge in the semi-state. We stayed home with Joan, Beca, and Donna to strategize how to best capitalize on our new fame. I think Billy Joel summed it up back in ’74.
Today I am your champion
I may have won your hearts
But I know the game, you’ll forget my name
And I won’t be here in another year
If I don’t stay on the charts.
Back in the seventies it was just a great tune to keep me awake at work. Now it seemed like a prophecy.
Cindy and I called our moms and they came out to help us. We were all in over our heads. In all my business planning and working with Livy on enhancing it, the one question none of us asked was, ‘What do we do if we succeed?’
“I know you wouldn’t normally release another video for a month, but is there any way you might get something out sooner? At least to your patrons? You have five hundred new patrons who have paid for February and won’t see any benefit until March,” Mom said.
“We were going to record Monday night at Mr. LeBlanc’s house,” I said. “He has a small audience invited and it is just going to be an intimate gathering for music. We’re doing the Schubert.”
“Why don’t we stream it?” Donna asked. “I know the release schedule says we’d release that recording in three weeks. Stick to that as the YouTube date but invite patrons to see it live.”
“Do you think we could even get an audience in that short a time?” Cindy asked. I was glad it was her expressing my own disbelief.
“I’ll bet we could get another hundred patrons before it goes live,” Joan said. “I can do a public post on Patreon and get it out to Twitter and Facebook and Instagram. Too bad we can’t just put an ad up on YouTube, but that little pointer to the Patreon site at the end of your video is what’s driving new members just now. We haven’t put out any notices. I wasn’t even paying attention to what was happening until I did my weekly status check this morning.”
“We’d need to talk to Mr. LeBlanc. And John. He was going to have the students run the taping this month and not even be there for the show,” I said. It seemed like I was getting a lot more experience in front of the cameras than behind. Maybe I’d arrange to tape a duet between Cindy and Desi for my project. We were making ourselves available for any of the students who wanted to use us for their music videos.
“Let’s call Leonard,” Betty said. We nodded.
The result of that call was Leonard LeBlanc arriving at Donna’s house half an hour later. An hour after that, John showed up with three students. Everyone was surprised at the reception of our latest video.
“This time it will be a paid gig,” I said. “I know it doesn’t sound like much, but we’ll pay each of you $100 for streaming the video and then editing the upload. Is that agreeable?” The three students looked at each other and nodded.
“Hell, we were willing to do it for the screen credit,” Matt said. “A hundred bucks is sweet.”
“We worked on the holiday video,” Jasmine said. “I’d do it just because it was so much fun. Thank you for thinking of paying us.” Dan, the other student, just nodded his thanks.
“Monday is a holiday,” LeBlanc said. “That gives us two days to rehearse in the space and practice the camera moves. The cleaners came today, so everything is ready. The caterers won’t arrive until four Monday afternoon.”
“You’re having it catered?” I said. “Really.”
“Well, I’m using it as an opportunity to create goodwill in the music community,” LeBlanc said. “We’ll have dinner first with the recital at eight o’clock.”
“I guess that gives us the streaming time,” Joan said. “What else do we need?”
We worked on various permutations of how the session Monday night would go. John suggested his camera people should capture some footage of the dinner party and people moving into the recital room for use in the recorded product they would release on YouTube in three weeks. LeBlanc said he needed to call his guests to clarify what would be happening. They had all agreed to being in the background of the video but he wanted to make sure they were aware it would be streamed live.
I don’t know why it took me so long to realize the other subtle change in the room. It all seemed so natural. We were always like this. When LeBlanc, John and our camera people left, Donna made tea and served it to the rest of us.
“So, how long has this been going on?” Betty asked. It took me a moment to figure out she was referring to Cindy sitting on my knee at the table. Almost an exact reflection of Beca sitting on Joan’s lap. It was the first time we had so casually seated ourselves like this in front of our parents.
“This?” I asked dumbly.
“Mom, I know it must look strange but, in our pod, we often hold each other and sit on each other. I might just as well have taken a seat on Donna’s lap. I would feel just as comfortable there. This has been a very stressful day and I just needed to be held,” Cindy said. She made no move to leave my lap and I kept my arm around her reassuringly.
Betty looked over at Beca and Joan and then at Donna. She sighed deeply.
“Has that day already come?” she asked. “The day when my little girl has become a woman?”
“If you are asking if Jacob and I are having sex, no. If you’re asking if that day is coming, I’d have to say probably, but not soon. I’m neither physically nor emotionally ready for sex. But Jacob takes care of me in ways I can’t describe to you. So do Beca and Donna. We do more than make music together. We study. We eat. We play games. We talk. We dream. Maybe that’s the most important thing. I’ve always been able to share my music with other musicians—in the orchestra, ensembles, performing. I’ve never been able to share my dreams,” Cindy said.
We were all quiet and, if anything, Cindy relaxed further, leaning back against me. Betty finished her tea and I saw Mom nod at her. The two women stood up.
“I’m sure everyone will be back from the ballgame soon,” Mom said. “It’s midnight. I’m exhausted and need to go home to bed.”
“Yes. Me, too,” Betty agreed. She stood and walked around the table to kiss Cindy on top of her head. “Call if you need anything tomorrow. Or tonight. Or Monday. I’ll probably stop by to watch some of your rehearsal at Leonard’s house when he lets me know it’s ready.” She looked at the two of us with such intense longing and sadness in her eyes it made my own eyes water. “Dream on, my dreamers. Dream wonderful dreams.”
It was still an hour before the rest of the crew arrived, celebrating Livy’s victory. In the meantime, we’d all moved to the sofa in the sunroom. I sat between Joan and Donna with Beca and Cindy sprawled on top of us as we just worked on recovering from the taxing day. A few little kisses were shared but nothing sexual or passionate.
“Donna?” Cindy said in a small voice that reminded us all that she was really still a little girl at heart. “May I sleep in your bed tonight? With you and Jacob?”
“Of course you may,” Donna said. “We’ll see how quickly we can get everyone settled tonight when they get here.”
It didn’t take long. Once everyone arrived there was a fair amount of squealing over the successes, congratulations, and kisses. Then Rachel took Livy to bed, Desi joined Sophie, and Nanette looked meaningfully at Brittany and grabbed her hand to take the third bedroom upstairs. It looked like something had been brewing there all evening.
Donna pulled on a nightshirt and I wore my boxers. Cindy had one of her cute little nightgowns on. We all brushed our teeth and went to bed, Donna sandwiched between Cindy and me.
Even though it was close to two when we went to bed, I was awake by six. I kissed the back of Donna’s neck and rubbed my morning wood up her backside. She mumbled and shot me an air kiss before dropping back to sleep. I remembered Cindy was in bed with us and raised up on my elbow to see her black hair contrasting with Donna’s golden blonde. I slipped out of bed and used the bathroom before going to the kitchen to make coffee.
I grabbed my laptop and sat at the table to scan the news. Mostly I wanted to confirm in the pre-dawn light that we’d really become an overnight phenom. It was there. I scrolled through twitter and found #GBU trending and #lowbar now a popular tag for posts of all sorts.
I sighed and put my head in my hands, not sure why I hadn’t just stayed cuddled with my lover for another couple of hours. I felt the soft hand on my shoulder before I heard her approach. Then she kissed my cheek and whispered, “What do we do now, Jacob?” I turned and pulled Cindy down on my lap to hold her.
“I guess we learn how to be famous… for at least fifteen minutes.”
“Should we be tweeting stuff to our fans?”
“Joan loaded some timed releases to Twitter and Instagram last night. She even got the announcement out on Patreon. I don’t think we have to personally do anything about that. I’m glad. I’m sure I’d just say something that offended people.”
“I’m sorry, Jacob.”
“What are you sorry for, Sweetie? This is what we were working toward.”
“I’m sorry I’m not ready to have sex with you. It seems like that’s what we should have been doing to celebrate. And then I did that… um… cock-block thing by sleeping with you and Donna. I’m sorry,” she said. I laughed.
“We were way too tired for you to have blocked anything last night,” I said. “And besides… Cindy, our relationship… you and me… isn’t based on sex. Or on the lack of sex. We are partners in our music. Partners in our dream. Don’t look at anyone else in the pod and become jealous that they have something you don’t. We have something that everyone in our pod wants to participate in. We have the dream.”
“It’s funny. I’ve only recently realized that my female parts have a use other than for putting me to sleep at night. But for the past year, I fantasized that you would be my first kiss. Mom warned me that it was hero-worship and I guess it was a little. Then, all of a sudden, Beca and I were kissing. And it was so sweet and wonderful… I wanted to do it again. But I haven’t yet because I’m not sure what comes next and I’m afraid I’ll slide down one of those slides in the water park, going faster and faster, only when I hit the pool at the bottom it will be empty and I’ll just lie there crying on the cold cement. It’s too complicated for me right now,” Cindy sighed.
“Yeah, me too. We just need to remember that there isn’t a goal out there for your sex life. No endpoint. No mileposts or caches you have to collect. It’s just part of life and it comes when you’re ready for it.”
“Thank you, Jacob.” She kissed me on the cheek again and stood up. “Before everything cut loose yesterday afternoon, Beca and I sliced up a whole bunch of French bread to dry slightly so we could make French toast this morning. Want to help me get it ready?”
“I hate to put it this way,” Joan said, “but we’re losing market on promo products because I wasn’t paying attention to your popularity this week. There are already various T-shirts and coffee mugs with ‘She has a pretty low bar for success’ on them.”
“Can they do that? That’s Jacob’s line,” Livy said.
“It’s not copyrighted. As long as they don’t try to make it look like he’s endorsing something, he’s now a popular public figure. None of them have tried putting his picture with it, So, I think we could release a shirt with his photo and the phrase and make our own profit. Also, there should be a new Good, Bad, Ugly T-shirt. We can’t mimic the movie title, but we can have a Marvel and Hopkins T-shirt like the Masque T-shirt. We have plenty of stills from the taping that we could use for the graphic.”
“Is there anything else we should be planning?” I asked. “I mean when we do the live stream tomorrow night, should we be prepared with some special offer?”
“Good point,” Rachel said. “We need another clever phrase for coffee cups that could be put on the cup with a picture of a flute and a guitar. Something like ‘Wake up to Marvel and Hopkins.’ And we need to release a few more tracks, even if they haven’t been broadcast or videotaped. I wonder if you could compile a new CD that is just short pieces.”
“That kind of recording should be done in a studio and requires a hefty investment,” Donna said. “Scale back just a little. One signature track that isn’t The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly. Meet the standard broadcast requirement of three minutes to three-fifteen. Take the track and a promo cup to the best choice radio station and ask them to play the cut at six o’clock every morning for a week. They might consider it advertising and try to bill it, but there’s also a chance we could pick the right DJ and he’d do it for a lark and a copy of the CD.”
“I’m good with any of this stuff,” I said. “But Cindy and I need to get over to Mr. LeBlanc’s house to rehearse. I’m pretty sure he’s going to be hard on us this morning and slap our fingers with his baton if we screw anything up.”
“I’ve never seen him hit anyone with his baton,” Cindy laughed. “It does look threatening, though.” We grabbed our instruments and headed to the truck while the girls all worked on promotional products and getting our live stream advertised.
He didn’t actually beat us with the baton, but he beat us up verbally a lot. He wanted every note perfect and had an uncanny ability to hear any note that was out of place, even if it wasn’t a bad harmonic. I noticed something new, though. In the past, I felt I was singled out all the time for my mistakes. I understood that because I’m not a musician and played more by feel than by score. That was something LeBlanc wouldn’t tolerate. But now the corrections and criticisms seemed to be more balanced between Cindy and me. I didn’t think she was muffing up anything intentionally and I didn’t think her playing was getting worse. It seemed, though, that he was treating us as more of an ensemble than individuals.
“Let’s stop for lunch,” he said after we’d been working for about three hours. “Reggie would be upset if I kept you in here and his lovely meal got cold.”
Reggie? We went into the dining room and a table was set for four. We were seated and Reggie came sweeping into the room carrying plates with eggs benedict on them. Next to the perfect pair of eggs were asparagus and roasted potato spears. A small dish of fruit cocktail was already at each place. Reggie sped around the table filling our coffee cups and then slid into his own seat next to LeBlanc.
“There, lovelies. Eat up now. The eggs are at a perfect temperature. Conversation after the first bite,” Reggie said.
It had never occurred to me that LeBlanc might be gay but if Reggie was as comfortable in this house as he appeared to be, that question was no longer open. I wondered about LeBlanc living in this huge mansion alone. LeBlanc looked a little uncomfortable when Reggie started entertaining us with stories of the house but at one point, I saw him reach over and gently pat Reggie’s hand. They never defined their relationship beyond the simple introduction by first name of Reggie to Cynthia and Jacob. We just sat and enjoyed the meal. When I asked if I could help with the cleanup, Reggie laughed and said I was such a nice boy. We all cleared the dishes to the kitchen but then LeBlanc ordered us out to get ready for the first staging rehearsal with our camera people. During the afternoon, we worked on camera angles, and cuts. True to his word, John stayed out of this and sent just the three students to handle everything. Dan and Matt operated the cameras and Jasmine sat at her computer doing the mixing. About five o’clock, we did a full run-through and streamed the take to our pod back at Donna’s house. Everything worked fine. LeBlanc called an end for the day and told us to get home and get sleep and not to come back before noon on Monday.
Presidents’ Day is a federal holiday, so Joan didn’t need to be back to work until Tuesday. I spent Sunday night loving her up with Beca. I might have been too tired to do anything with Donna Saturday night, but I was glad Cindy had a room of her own on Sunday. Donna got attacked by Rachel and Livy. Brittany, Nanette, Sophie, and Desi all crowded in the other bedroom upstairs.
I didn’t get up until eight Monday morning and we had another round of lovemaking before we dragged ourselves to the kitchen for coffee. What a beautiful sight that was. Not the coffee. I mean not just the coffee. I mean, I have ten beautiful girlfriends and they were all topless as we gathered our plates and bowls for breakfast.
“Are we being a bad influence on you, girl?” Desi asked Cindy. Wow! What a contrast to see Desi’s huge breasts next to Cindy’s perfectly round ones. She was a little bigger than Beca now but she was four inches taller, too.
“Donna explained to me that nudity is not the same as sex and that no one ever makes a move on someone without an invitation,” Cindy said. “I like my tiddies. It feels good to have them out.”
Yeah. Well. I mean. Right. Everything she said. Nudity isn’t sex. We’re respectful and don’t just go around grabbing each other unless we know the other person is receptive. But damn! Cindy’s ‘tiddies,’ as she called them, were absofuckinglutely suckable. I wanted to run my hands over them and lick them up one side and down the other. And my cock responded the second I saw them.
“Others of us are available for sex,” Rachel whispered in my ear as she ran her hand up the inside of my leg and over my boner. We spent about five more minutes at the table before we ran into Donna’s bedroom and fucked our brains out.
There were fifteen people in our audience that night. A pianist played all through cocktails and dinner then closed the grand piano when the guests began filtering into the music room. Once they were all settled, our cameras started rolling and we went live. LeBlanc introduced the evening and stepped aside. Cindy and I entered and bowed to the applause that greeted us. Only fifteen people but it was a fairly small room and sounded plenty loud.
I sat and Cindy stood to my right. We were playing this concert from music on stands. When we struck the first chord, we were no longer in the room. The audience didn’t exist. The cameras didn’t exist. LeBlanc’s critical eye didn’t exist. The only thing there was the music. And even though the score was in front of us, Cindy and I frequently met each other’s eyes and saw the dream as well.
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