Double Twist
Chapter 180
“I felt like an animal, and animals don’t know sin, do they?”
—Jess C. Scott, Wicked Lovely
I FROZE, afraid that any sudden move might frighten this little bird away or distract her from what she was doing. I wanted to thrust with my hips to meet her descent as her vagina slowly engulfed my penis. I watched her face, a smile stretched across it even as tears ran down her cheeks. As smoothly as she took me, I didn’t think pain was what was causing the tears.
“Yes,” she breathed. “It’s real. You are in me. I love you. I never want anything but this. This.” Her hips twitched and I couldn’t help but flex my butt to flare out my cockhead inside her. Her eyes sprang open and she tried the move again with the same results. Then she lowered her lips to mine and while we kissed, she began slowly shifting forward and back to feel the penetration. When she pushed back, I pushed up to meet her and her kisses intensified. We were making love.
We had been working toward this moment, I realized, for two years, since the night of the cast party when I stepped between her and Tom Clemens. Perhaps she’d been planning for it even before that night. We’d built up from simple hugs to cheek kisses to glimpses and lips to petting and oral sex. We’d gone so far as anal sex. Often. But there is something unique… something special about entering a woman’s pussy for the first time. Especially if she is a woman you love.
Yes, it was more than caring for her and being her friend, protecting her and supporting her career. Cindy and I had fallen in love, as deeply as Beca and me or Donna and me. As completely as Em and me or Rachel and me. As much as with any member of my pod—our pod, shared together.
I continued to hold and stroke her breasts as we kissed and moved together. Cindy pushed away to give herself room to breathe and I saw her begin the random head tosses that indicated her climax was approaching. Then I felt the tongue trace my balls and continue up into Cindy’s crack. She gasped and worked herself on me more fully. Beca’s tongue repeated its trip through our connection and to Cindy’s asshole again and again. I could see her gathering herself for the scream that would issue when she came. And I didn’t care. I was close and might scream myself when I filled her pussy with my come. A siren wail, pulsing up and down in rhythm with the pulse of her vagina, hailed the start of Cindy’s orgasm. I think if she could have spun her head all the way around, she would have. She was a woman possessed by her pleasure and letting the household know it.
When come rocketed out of my cock, my voice joined hers.
8 December 2021
What a relief to have that over. The orchestra concert was good and I survived my solo on the mandolin. Cindy did a beautiful job with her flute solo but I got so wrapped up watching her that I missed my entrance and LeBlanc scowled at me.
Watching Cindy Marvel. My pod mate and my lover. I never thought it would come to this when she asked me to accompany her on guitar for her recital. I think Betty knows. After the concert last night, she looked me up and down before giving me a hug that lasted a little longer than expected. There was moisture in her eyes and I don’t think it was because my playing moved her. She’s the last holdout when it comes to letting Cindy volunteer early but I think she’s tending in favor now.
Now, we are in serious rehearsals for our California concert tour. It starts in nineteen days and we still need to get through finals and Christmas. Remas will be here this weekend for the duration. Doing a holiday concert really messes up the holiday. As soon as our last final is over, Desi, Sophie, Brittany, Cindy, and I will join Remas back in DC to do dress rehearsals with Andy and David. And the tech crew. We’ll be home with our families for Christmas Day and fly out the next morning for California. Remas says we might have 5,000 people in the live audience for our patron stream. Joan says we’ll have that many online. Wow!
I’m going to go pick Cindy up for school this morning. We have our first period coaching with Ms. Devine on arranging music. Not sure I’ll be able to keep my hands off Cindy long enough to get to class on time.
We made it to school on time and managed to pay attention to Ms. Devine as she went over the Rachmaninoff piano prelude Cindy and I were arranging for flute and guitar. We were nearly finished with it and thought it might be the centerpiece for our ‘intimate’ spring concert. It would be a relief to focus on that after the first of the year.
After school, LeBlanc joined Cindy, Desi, and me as we worked on a tricky piece of our Morricone concert. He followed our score closely and made several corrections and suggestions. He still amazes me sometimes. It’s like he could read the music as we played three parts and could hear the other three parts that weren’t there.
We’d recorded the cello, percussion, and male voice parts so we could practice with them, but LeBlanc told us not to use them.
“If you play to this recording, you will practice the same mistakes over and over. In your individual and partial group practice, it is your responsibility to learn the music perfectly, not to learn it with early practice mistakes in it,” he said.
“Do you think Remas and Divine Love are practicing with our tape?” I asked Cindy. “The same thing would apply to them.”
“We should call Remas to make sure,” she said.
“If their directors at the school are as good as their reputations, they won’t be practicing with a tape,” LeBlanc asserted. “Oh, they will listen to the tape so they have a feel for your instruments, but they won’t play it while they rehearse. What keeps musicians together is the score. Every musician in a group plays the same score. If they play it accurately alone, they will play it well together.”
“I’ll check with Andy, too,” Desi said. “This all makes incredible sense after the hour of coaching I got during my audition.”
“I’m sorry to hear you will be leaving Mad Anthony for your last semester,” LeBlanc said. “I had hoped to recruit you for a vocal part in our spring concert.”
“The spring concert is going to be a problem for all of us,” I said. “We’re supposed to perform an hour-long program during spring break, the week before. Learning two programs at the same time has been a killer this fall.”
“We’ll take that into consideration,” LeBlanc said. “I’ll talk it over with your producer.”
After rehearsal, we headed to the farm for pod study night. I needed to review my physics and business math, but really needed to polish my English term paper. It would count as much toward our final grade as the final exam did. I was using Shelley’s Frankenstein as a model to explore experiments that were intended to improve humanity but turned out horribly wrong. I was comparing it to the National Service, which had become a kind of Frankenstein’s Monster, even though it was intended to improve the condition of country and citizen alike. I figured Ms. Pixler would write a diatribe about my treasonous statements and turn the paper over to the FBI. I was more worried about that than our holiday concert.
We were all pretty intense with our studies. Even Donna was going over the final exam she would give her students. Nanette had one more exam for her certification. Sophie was preparing a dance recital for her students. The rest of us were studying for finals and working on papers. Except Emily. She was happily fixing dinner, bringing us little treats while we studied, massaging tired shoulders as we worked.
I’d been worried about Emily. Her job driving a school bus wasn’t particularly challenging. My sister was smart and I was afraid she wasn’t using as much of her ability as she could be and would get bored. She insisted she was enjoying what she was doing and would consider something more challenging when we all moved to DC.
“Hey,” I said to Cindy, “I’d better get you home. It’s almost ten.” She looked at me and grinned.
“Why don’t you take me to bed instead,” she whispered.
“Um… I’d love to but I don’t want to get either of us in trouble with your mother.”
“Jacob, things have changed. I don’t have to go home on Wednesday nights anymore. After the concert last night, she said it was probably a good thing for me to spend more time with my pod. Bonding, as she said. She checked my bag before I left today to make sure I had everything I would need for school tomorrow,” Cindy giggled.
“Does she know we’re lovers now?” I asked.
“I think she made that leap, though neither of us have tried to confirm it. You know she isn’t going to chaperone us in California? She and Dad are taking the boys to a ski resort in Vermont. Completely the opposite direction.”
“I’m sorry you’ll miss the ski vacation,” I said.
“I’m not. I’ll be spending the time rehearsing, performing, and loving my pod mates. And I think she’ll sign for me in the spring.”
“To volunteer early? That’s wonderful news.”
“Not just to volunteer. You know there’s still this law that is the same in most states now that says a person can’t get married before they turn eighteen unless a parent signs a permission slip.”
“Married?” I gasped. What was Cindy up to?
“That includes plural domestic partnerships,” Cindy said. “You should talk to Rachel and Beca. But right now, you should take me to bed.”
Remas arrived early Saturday morning with Andy and David. Every single minute of the next two days was spent rehearsing. The show was pulling together. The two guys were just accepted by the rest of the pod and everyone was comfortable being naked most of the weekend. I chuckled to myself about some of those Naked in School stories I’d read on SOL. I wondered what would happen if we decided to play our concert tour nude. Not that it would happen but it was an entertaining thought. I didn’t think any of my mates had the same literary propensities I had. Well, maybe Donna did.
We put clothes on Sunday afternoon and Mr. LeBlanc came out to listen to our ensemble. He had a copy of our score and stopped us periodically to correct something that went wrong. His feedback was good and our three friends from DC expressed their appreciation for his guidance.
Monday morning Andy and David returned to DC but Remas stayed with us. She conducted another master class for LeBlanc and the orchestra. And she sat with Cindy and me in Mr. Richards’s constitutional government class to answer more questions about the National Service and the reform movement. We continued to practice after school, even though we were still missing two members of our ensemble.
The week flew by. Wednesday night, I was surprised Cindy didn’t come to my bed. Instead, she and Remas occupied it and I was sent to sleep with Donna and Beca. Not that I minded that combination a bit.
“I understand we’re considering formalizing the pod in the spring,” I said as we cuddled in the afterglow of our loving. “Anybody want to tell me about it?” I looked meaningfully at Beca. She cuddled into my arms with Donna pressing against her back.
“We talk about it all the time. All I’ve done is investigate what’s possible,” Beca said. “No one has made any decisions. I’ve just been fact-gathering. There are a couple of big obstacles to considering it right now, and I thought spring break would be the earliest we could make it work. There are still obstacles then. I talked to Dr. Donahue and she indicated it would be good if we were formalized before we were inducted.”
“You talk to Dr. Donahue?” I asked.
“I think we all talk to Dr. Donahue or to someone she recommends,” Donna said. “Most of Sophie’s contacts are with Randi White. Desi talks a lot to Ava Parrish, just as Brittany is in constant contact with Margaret Apple. We often discuss obstacles to our being assigned together.”
“And you primarily talk to Dr. Donahue?” I asked Beca.
“I did. She also got me in contact with Jerome Martin. He’s in charge of all the official federal websites for the arts. I think I finally know where I’m supposed to be in our pod. I’m practicing my testing to show strong content management aptitude. And I have experience in that area, too, since I work with Joan on what should be on our website.”
“That’s great! So, what have you found out about us becoming a plural domestic partnership?” I asked.
“First, we—all of us joining the pod—have to go to either Boston or Seattle to be licensed and affirmed. That means any parents who want to see their kids joined have to appear there as well. So, logistically, it’s complicated, especially with Joan, Rachel, and Livy already serving. They’d have to schedule vacation time to join us.”
“That’s going to be a problem no matter when we do it,” I said. “What else?”
“Well, in addition to the logistical coordination, three of us are under eighteen. I’m not as big a problem even though my mother told me flat out, she wouldn’t sign for me. I turn eighteen in January, so I won’t require her signature. On the other hand, both Brittany and Cindy will require parental consent forms,” Beca said. “Brittany doesn’t turn eighteen until August and Cindy will still be a year away. Cindy’s mother is softening, through the influence of her father.”
“I’m still concerned that she won’t consent to Cindy volunteering next summer,” I said.
“Well, if she consents to Cindy joining the pod, she won’t be needed for National Service consent.”
“Why?”
“Under the marriage equality act, any person who enters a marriage or domestic partnership with consent of parents is considered emancipated. Therefore, once she is a part of our domestic partnership, she is exempt from needing her parents’ consent to join the National Service,” Donna said. “Oddly enough, it is Brittany’s parents who are most reluctant to give their consent. Sophie says it has caused a bit of discord within the family. They said they would consider it after graduation but didn’t want to hear about it before then.”
“That’s harsh. I think I need to go over there for some Sunday afternoon dancing. I haven’t done that in a while,” I said.
“When you are there, dance with Grandma. John and Lupe are the ones who have to sign, but Grandma Grant will be the one who decides.”
“Do you really think we could get everything arranged to become a family by spring break?”
“It lacks only one thing,” Beca said. “Once we are a plural domestic partnership, we are considered a single household. So, we need a domicile. A home.”
“And we have that,” Donna said. “We’ve proven this house is big enough for all of us. We just have to realize that once Cindy and Brittany’s parents have consented, this will officially become our home. Not just on weekends and Wednesdays, but all the time. Part of being a domestic partnership is living together.”
Finals started on Thursday. The last of them would be on Tuesday and we’d be out for the break. My last final would be Tuesday morning, and of course, it would be Ms. Pixler’s English exam. Our term papers, however, were due on Friday. I handed mine in and she scowled at me. Sheesh! She hadn’t even read it yet. I thought that was a little prejudiced.
Nonetheless, we survived the weekend and end of finals. I was afraid I wasn’t going to make it to Brittany’s house for Sunday dancing until after the break and our trip to California. Tuesday afternoon, Sophie, Brittany, Cindy, Desi, Remas, and I were on a plane to DC with all our instruments.
We took them directly to the school where a full auditorium and stage had been reserved for our rehearsals for the week. Just walking around the stage and looking out at the seats gave me the shivers. And this auditorium was comparably small, seating only 475 people. It just seemed so cavernous when we set up our equipment and instruments on the stage. Sophie and Brittany kept shaking their heads as they stepped off distances.
All the curtains on the stage had been pulled up into the fly space, so the stage looked even bigger. We’d have to ask to have the legs and backdrop lowered if nothing else.
“There will be a bandshell wheeled in before we rehearse tomorrow,” Remas said. “In some of the spaces, we’ll need acoustic reinforcement. The shell is being provided for the chamber orchestra and chorale who will be on in the second act and the jazz ensemble in the first act. You’ll be surprised at how cozy the shell makes you feel in a big space.”
“I take it you’ve done these tours before,” I said.
“Yes. The orchestra does three tours a year to different venues in the US. Believe me, the people who will be doing our tech setup know what they’re doing. You’ll meet them tomorrow.”
“Anything else we need to know?” I asked.
“Yes,” another voice from the back of the auditorium said. I looked up to see Dr. Donahue approaching in the center aisle. We all moved to the front of the stage and sat on the lip to listen to her.
“It’s nice to see you, Dr. D,” I said.
“And you, Jacob. What I have to say has not really hit the newswires as yet. It doesn’t sound like a big deal or anything but business as usual in Washington. You should all be aware that the president’s National Service Reform Act went to congress under the sponsorship of five congressmen from across the country. Two senators presented the bill in the senate. The house always follows the lead of the senate in urgency of bills to be brought up for hearing. Senator Jeffries, the senate leader, has been opposed to the whole reform movement and declared that no National Service reform bill would ever come before the senate. The house immediately tabled the bill for later action and that’s the status as of the congressional recess beginning last week.”
“All that work,” I sighed. “And no one will even give it a hearing? That just sucks. Excuse me Dr. D.”
“I agree entirely. I just thought you should know where things stood before you step on stage for the tour. We are hoping you will… Jacob, I don’t know what you’ll do and I’ve stayed out of the content for your concert. I just hope you’ll continue to be a good influence for the reform movement,” she said.
“I don’t know what we can do, but we’ll do our best,” I said.
Comments
Please feel free to send comments to the author at devon@devonlayne.com.
