Double Twist
Chapter 152
“My life has been one big audition.”
—Elizabeth Eulberg, Take a Bow
IT USED TO BE that you couldn’t rent a car until you were twenty-five. Em was twenty. But she had a National Service CDL and the agency had to recognize her as qualified and responsible. Which was good because she was the only qualified driver for our Starcraft. It felt like we were all getting on the short bus to go to school. But it was a surprisingly comfortable ride once we were all settled. Getting settled included being filmed while we got our bags aboard and finding our seats while discussing what we were going to prepare for a performance and if we could record while on the bus.
I was thankful for Laura and Leon because at least the teens weren’t completely outnumbered. Of course, Donna and Sophie tried to make sure we knew which side of the aisle they were sitting on and that they weren’t the chaperones; the moms were. Emily walked down the aisle and made sure everyone was buckled in then started the bus and pulled out of Donna’s yard.
Em was used to driving for hours on her over the road job and we had to remind her that the rest of us needed rest area stops. And legally, Em had to keep a log book regarding how many hours she drove. We took our overnight in Morgantown, West Virginia after nearly eight driving hours. It was still pretty early for most of us. We just hung out at the pool at the Quality Inn and relaxed. Of course, Leon thought it would be great to have video of us by the pool and I had to tell him to cool it. He was mostly interested in taking pictures of Cindy, Emily, Donna, and Sophie. Not that I could blame him. All four girls looked spectacular in their bathing suits. Even Cindy had a two-piece. Personally, I thought Leon should focus on improving his relationship with Laura since she looked just as good in her bikini as my girls did.
There was a minor dispute over rooms. Laura and Leon each had their own. The Moms started to object when the rest of us said we’d be good with just one room with two queen beds. Betty tried to insist that Cindy room with her and got a flat ‘no’ from her daughter.
“Mom, just because we’re on the road and you’re with us, doesn’t mean that we’re going to change our usual behavior. You know I sleep in the same room as my mates at the farm. I don’t plan to change that now.”
Betty sighed and Mom suggest the two of them room together to keep the costs down. After dinner, we retired and it didn’t take long for everyone in my pod to get naked. Including Cindy.
“Can I sleep with you and be safe from that thing poking me inappropriately?” she asked, pointing at my half-hard cock. I admit it was getting harder just from my looking at her blossoming femininity. I’d agree to just about anything if it meant she’d be pressing those lush little ‘tiddies’ into my chest. Or my hands. Or my mouth. Geez! I’m far gone.
“If that’s what you want. We can slip our underwear back on to be safe.”
“I don’t mind it touching me, I guess,” she said. “I just don’t want to hump it. But I want to be close to you. Jacob, I wouldn’t be here without you. I don’t want to be here without you.” She hugged me and that pressed my stiff cock between us. She giggled a little but didn’t back away. Frankly, I was amazed at how far she’d progressed sexually since I’d known her.
“Don’t worry, baby,” Em said. “If that thing gets in the way of a good night’s sleep, one of us will beat it into submission. Or maybe all three of us. You might have to wait a while before you have him to yourself.”
“Emily, I love all three of you and I would never stand in the way of you beating Jacob into submission. I learn something every time I see that. Eventually, I’ll be ready to try beating him myself.” I groaned. I knew my cock was leaking precome on Cindy’s belly.
I didn’t get beaten by all three of our girlfriends, but I did get a very relaxing time with Sophie before she switched beds and joined Donna and Em. I went to the bathroom and washed myself before I went to bed. As soon as I lay down, Cindy plastered herself against me and I felt those precious little buds pressed against me.
“Um… Now that I’m sixteen and I’ve actually been kissed… by a boy… on the lips, it would probably be okay to kiss goodnight. You know?” she said, scooting up so her lips were right near my face. Well, yeah, I know. I wrapped both arms around her bare back and stroked from shoulder to waist as we kissed. I’m amazed at how sexy and sensual a kiss can be that isn’t even all tongue. Just having her lips softly pressed against mine while I held her naked body against my own was enough to take both our breath away.
Then we settled and eventually, sleep claimed us.
It was soft and silky, a hard little point in the center of my hand. I squeezed and sighed. So perfect. I was lying on my back. Emily lay on my left, curled against me. Which meant the beautifully soft breast in my right hand was… Cindy! I froze, holding my breath. She lay on her back, head pillowed on my arm, my hand draped over her shoulder cupping her innocent breast. And I couldn’t do the right thing and pull away. I just lay there, pretending to be asleep while my fingers absorbed the sensations of her breast rising and falling as she breathed.
My fingers seemed to flex on their own and she moaned in her sleep. Her hand, on top of mine, seemed to flex a little, encouraging me to squeeze again. Hmm. How many people in this bed are only pretending to sleep? I turned my head slightly toward Em and saw her eyes open, focused on my hand and Cindy’s breast. Em’s hand drifted south from my chest and found my rigid member. Her hum was reflected by Cindy’s and I moaned a little, too. My hand on that breast was no longer limited to occasional squeezes. I rubbed gently and circled the nipple with my finger. I could feel Cindy’s hips shift and lift with an occasional twitch of her other hand between her legs.
Em slowly moved over me, careful not to disturb our young lover. When she was positioned, she slowly slid my shaft into her warm core. Cindy’s hand moved with more purpose and rhythm as I teased her nipple, slipping across her chest to give equal treatment to its mate. The hand that had been guiding mine left it and rose to cover her mouth as she tried to stifle her moans. We all knew Cindy could be very vocal as we’d heard her solo performance on her birthday.
We were all fully aware of each other now, Cindy’s legs spread to give her better access and leaned against Emily as my sister rocked back and forth on my cock and I rose to meet her. I heard a low whine from the other bed and could see Sophie and Donna moving against each other out of the corner of my eye. We were all, it seemed, waking to the rhythm of our own sexual heat.
My own orgasm was speeding to completion. Emily’s motions became more erratic as she felt my semen spray into her. As Em gasped and I felt her pussy clenching around my cock, Cindy went rigid next to us and whined around her hand, still covering her mouth. I lightly pinched her nipple and the sudden “Ah!” escaped around her seal. I could feel her shuddering through the finale.
Cindy rolled toward Em and me, wrapping us in her embrace as she sought a kiss from each of us—gladly given. I stroked her back and felt each of her muscles tighten and relax beneath my fingers.
“I… um… need to go take a shower. Otherwise, all my mother’s suspicions will be confirmed when she sees me.” She pushed away from us and slipped out of bed. We watched her bare bottom as she crossed to the bathroom and closed the door behind her.
The motion in Emily’s hips picked up with the renewed hardness she found inside. I rolled with her and she spread her legs wide to give me better access as we drove toward another orgasm, each of us thinking about the teen we’d awakened with, and the squeal from the bathroom as she satisfied herself again.
After we had breakfast at a diner near the hotel, we loaded up for the last leg into Washington, DC and Emily steered us effortlessly to a hotel not far from Kennedy Center. Let me suggest that you do not want to stay in a hotel in DC unless you are very wealthy or someone else is subsidizing you. Even with the special school rate, we paid over $250 a night per room. When they discovered how expensive it was, Laura and Leon volunteered to share a double room while we were in town. The moms talked to each of them separately to be sure they were really okay with that before consenting.
Then there was parking for the bus. The hotel directed Em to a lot nearby that had bus parking for almost as much as a room cost!
I made a call when we got to the hotel and half an hour later, Remas Hayek walked into the lobby and directly to our group. Our guide was nothing at all like any of us had anticipated. What do you anticipate when you are meeting a student from a music and art school? A kind of nerdy musician with a little voice who’s extremely shy. Not Remas.
This was a bright, bubbly, tan-skinned, brown-eyed girl, dressed in an oxford shirt, slacks, and a sweater. And a colorful scarf that wrapped around her head and hid her hair and neck.
“Marvel and Hopkins!” Remas said, coming right up to Cindy and me. “I’m Remas Hayek and the school asked me to guide you around today and make sure you are fed and get to the concert tonight. I hope you don’t mind me suggesting things and walking. Are you really shooting for your next video while you’re in town? It’s so exciting to have you visit. I hope you’ll come to school here.”
“Nice to meet you, Remas,” I said. “I’m Jacob and this is Cindy. These are our moms, Mrs. Hopkins and Mrs. Marvel.” I continued around our group introducing everyone. Remas had something to say to each person, often having to do with looks, clothes, or video equipment.
“You might have noticed I talk a lot,” Remas said after she’d checked to see that we all had comfortable walking shoes on. “That’s why I got this job. That and I asked for it. I’m a big fan of yours. You should see the poster I have on my dorm wall. It’s the western one. I just loved that video.”
“We’re flattered to have a fan way out here,” I said. I positioned Cindy between Remas and me, just for safety’s sake. She was a little overwhelming. Donna walked on my other side and held my hand.
“Lots of them,” Remas said. “So, I’m sure you’ll want to see the campus right away. You can have the whole day free tomorrow to sightsee if you want. I’m happy to join you if it’s okay. I know where most of the monuments and buildings are. We’ll customize things for your interests, so sing out if there’s something specific you want to see.”
“I didn’t even know there was a National School of the Arts until they sent me a letter,” I said. “We want to know everything.”
“Well, the campus has some venerable old buildings we share with the University. The school of the arts, though, was only founded eight years ago as part of a movement to provide critical education for musicians, actors, and dancers. The performing arts center was designed and built to provide that education from high school through young adulthood, acknowledging that each student would need to complete their National Service during the course of their education. It’s a unique program.”
“Remas, how many students are enrolled in the school?” Donna asked.
“There are currently 482 students enrolled in our various programs at all stages of their careers. With nearly 150 faculty, we have an extremely high teacher/student ratio. And I’m talking teachers and instructors, not administrative staff.”
“What year are you?” Em asked.
“Oh. Well. Things don’t quite work the same here as they do other places. We don’t really have freshmen, sophomores, and all that. We measure things as pre-service, in-service, and post-service. I’m first year in-service. But this is my third year at the school.”
“And you can continue at the school during your service?” I asked, astounded.
“Continuing here is my service,” Remas said. “Don’t think it’s just education, though. I play cello in the National Youth Orchestra and we have weekly performances. I’ll get you to Kennedy Center tonight and then leave you to go take my place onstage. There’s also a touring orchestra, two dance troupes, and a theater troupe who travel and perform as an outreach to the nation and the world. The program is really just getting stabilized in what we are asked to do. If you accept a position here at the National School of the Arts, you’ll be expected to serve your country with your art during National Service.”
That gave us a lot to think about. Through the recruiting letters I’d received and Ray’s research, we had an inkling that the invitation involved a deputation of sorts to promote the service. They were a little late getting to the public relations table. But I didn’t think we’d make the cut anyway. Based on what Remas said, there was a total of 482 students in pre, post, and in-service programs. There were four million new students eligible for National Service every year. The competition for a spot here must be fierce. Which means Remas must be wicked talented to have a spot in the orchestra.
We toured all afternoon, and finally ended up at the Jefferson Memorial. Donna and Sophie had been busy the past few weeks and we had a permit to tape at the memorial on Monday evening. We toured around, tested acoustics, and decided where we wanted to do our little performance.
“What are you playing?” Remas asked. “Do you need help? I can get half a dozen kids here to help with lighting or set up or just keeping people out of the line of sight.”
“That would be great, Remas,” Donna said. “There are instruments to schlep and a perimeter to be established. Leon and Laura are getting establishing shots now.”
“We decided on a duet variation of Mozart’s Symphony No. 40,” I said. “Just the ‘Molto Allegro’.”
“On guitar and flute? Radical!”
“No,” I said. “This is going to be our first recording of flute and viola da gamba. The melody really calls for a sustained bowing instead of my usual chicken picking guitar work.”
“I’ve played it on the cello. I know exactly what you mean. This is so exciting! I’ll have a crew ready for you.”
“Are you sure you have time?” Cindy asked quietly. She’d hardly said anything all day. “Don’t you have service duties?”
“You are my service duty this week,” Remas laughed. “I won’t have any difficulty getting a crew together.”
After a light dinner, we went to the Kennedy Center and Remas introduced us to our faculty host, Dr. Donahue. Remas left to take her place with the orchestra as Dr. Donahue led us to our seats. She reminded Laura and Leon that they could not record during the concert. There were rules.
It was a relaxing concert. I had Sophie on my left and Cindy, as had been the case all day, gripping my right hand. Beyond her was Dr. Donahue and then our mothers. Remas had spent all afternoon with us, focusing on Cindy and me. Dr. Donahue definitely focused on our mothers. I discovered the orchestra had a repertoire of concert programs. Most of the audience at the Kennedy Center are transient, so the same concert can be performed multiple times. The orchestra rotates through half a dozen programs, replacing one about every three months.
I let the music wash over me as I held Cindy’s and Sophie’s hands. I spotted Remas in the first cello chair. She’d changed from her colorful head covering to a plain black one that blended with the rest of the orchestra’s outfits. I wondered how diverse the orchestra really was.
“I’ve arranged a small reception,” Dr. Donahue said, finally paying attention to Cindy and me. “A few other instrumental soloists and the auditioning faculty will join us. How has your day been so far?”
“It’s been lovely,” I said. “Remas was delightful company and the concert this evening was really great. It was hard to believe this was the youth orchestra and not the National Symphony Orchestra.” We poured punch and met another faculty member as we paused in our conversation. But Donahue was determined to answer questions and returned to the subject as soon as we could.
“This week, the symphony played Friday night. Next week, the youth orchestra will be Friday and the symphony on Saturday. One of the major missions of our school is to make our nation’s capital a place of pride for the people. The orchestral performances, for example, are free to the public on a first come, first served basis. The same is true of theater and dance programs. The center here belongs to the people and the acts here are always free.”
“I like that policy,” I said.
“We give away our performances as well,” Cindy said. “Though donors subscribe to support us.”
“Yes. Not everything is publicly funded. You have expenses.”
“You are very kind to let us record the audition and our time in DC for our patrons,” Donna said. “And Remas has volunteered a group to assist with our taping at the Jefferson Memorial Monday night.”
“A very talented young woman and one we will welcome into longer term service if she chooses that path,” Dr. Donahue said.
“May I ask what the venue will be for our audition Monday?” I asked.
“The formal part of your audition will be in a student recital hall in the performing arts center on campus. Remas will take you there tomorrow afternoon so you can practice and get your cameras set. Don’t be surprised if other people show up during the afternoon to watch and listen,” Dr. Donahue said. She paused and beckoned me closer, dropping her voice. “You may think of the audition as being an hour on Monday afternoon during which you play for a select jury. You should start thinking of everything as an audition. Even your tour today.”
Comments
Please feel free to send comments to the author at devon@devonlayne.com.
