Double Twist
Chapter 192
“No matter how corrupt, greedy, and heartless our government, our corporations, our media, and our religious & charitable institutions may become, the music will still be wonderful.”
—Kurt Vonnegut, A Man Without a Country
OUR WEDDING NIGHT WAS SPENT naked and loving, like wedding nights should be. We ordered room service to the two-bedroom suite in the hotel and an entire staff served our dinner. As soon as we shooed them out of the suite, the robes were dropped once again and we used only half the number of chairs as there were people in our pod. Each of us held a lover on our laps. I held Rachel and nibbled on her as much as on my food. Next to me, Joan held Beca. Desi held Sophie on the other side. Across the table from us, Donna had Cindy on her lap, Nanette held Brittany, and Livy had Em perched on her.
Our parents and families had left for the airport soon after the ceremony was completed. We invited Remas to stay with us but she protested that this was a special night for our family and she’d declined to join in it at this stage. She promised to be waiting at the apartments when we got to DC, though.
So, at last, we looked around at our lovers and mates and giggled just a little. What were the odds that we’d actually pull off creating a family out of such different people and be loving and supportive to each other? I loved every one of these women—no longer my girlfriends, but my life partners. I’d call them wives.
No matter how we wanted to all be cuddled together, there just isn’t a way twelve humans can comfortably sleep in one king bed. The suite was plenty big, so we moved the furniture back as if we were camping and just tossed all the bedding we could find in the middle of the floor. We smoothed things out, but inside half an hour, the whole thing looked like a tangled nest. We weren’t trying to make the rounds and see to it that each of us made love to each other. We’d been together long enough to know we’d all get a turn and if it didn’t come quickly enough, we’d let someone know. But Saturday night, I made love to Rachel, Livy, and Donna while touching and petting all our other lovers we could reach. For the next week, we had only one other responsibility. We were going to spend a lot of our time making love.
The train ride from Boston to DC was a little longer on Sunday than the seven-hour express that ran hourly on the weekdays. The coach was only half full and we had plenty of room to spread out in pods of four, facing each other. And there was a little loving that took place on the train, too. I’ll say I’m not all that enthused about bathroom sex on public transport, but when Em bent over with her butt toward me, it was no problem for me to slip inside. We both whined as the rhythm of the train rocked us together and apart until we climaxed. After the fact, there was no place comfortable to cuddle in the bathroom, so we pulled our clothes together and she sat on my lap kissing me for another hour as we got in and out of New York.
I thought the other passengers were pretty considerate of our make-out antics. A lot of places I’d seen people get pretty snooty about young people publicly displaying their affection. When we rolled into Union Station in Washington and I stood up to collect our bags, I noticed three neatly printed signs over our seating pods. “Newlyweds.”
We collected the signs along with our luggage.
Remas was at the station to meet us with a super stretch limo that we barely all fit into with our luggage and instruments. The driver took us across the bridge to the apartments in Arlington where we’d stayed a few months earlier. We all knew we’d be floating from bedroom to bedroom among the four of them and that there might be anything from one to five in a room on any given night. This time, we made sure Remas was staying with us by the simple expedient of getting her undressed and hiding her clothes.
“Why are you treating me like one of the family when I declined to join the partnership officially,” she whimpered as she was sandwiched between Desi and me. Desi and Rachel were the most comfortable with Remas through sheer exposure as they roomed together at least part of the time.
“We’ve tried to explain to you,” Desi said. “Do you have wax in your ears? We love you and we’re going to do everything we can from our side to show you belong with us. You were right in your decision. You haven’t spent enough time with all of us to be sure. So, we’re trying to change that and give you all the opportunity possible to get to know us. Intimately.”
“You’re so sweet, Desiree. I do love you, you know?”
“Yeah. But right now, would you rather have my tongue between your legs or Jacob’s cock?”
“Yesss,” Remas whined. Desi and I helped her legs part. Desi pushed a bounteous boob into Remas’s mouth while I seated myself in her pussy. I think I have nail marks on my side where Remas was pulling me forward.
I love feeling my cock in Remas. She sucks at me and bucks against me with abandon. And when Desi finally moved to keep from smothering her, we saw that look of blissful abandonment on her face that I adored so much. I have an opportunity to see different girls in orgasm on a regular basis. So shoot me. I don’t care if you’re jealous. What I know is that each one has a different look when she tightens up for the little death. I’ve been lost in Rachel’s eyes as her orgasm takes us in a spiritual transcendence. I’ve been lost in Livy’s fierceness, in Em’s surrender, in Donna’s openness, in Nanette’s quiet intensity, in Cindy’s uncontrolled tossing. You get the idea. Each one is different. Each one feels different when she comes on my cock, whether it is Joan opening and relaxing around it or Brittany seizing up and clamping down. Sophie is most likely to come completely off the bed (or any surface) as she wraps her legs and arms around me. Desi is more likely to try to wear me out before she’s exhausted herself. And Beca has—that one time—a look of utter amazement that such a thing can happen. But none are like Remas. Her look of beatification is devine. Sheer joy washes over her face when we couple. I swear I can nearly see a halo appear around her head. The smile on her face looks like it will never vanish. And, in fact, I’ve woken up in the middle of the night next to her and have seen that smile still playing on her lips.
Yes, we need to know each other better. The rest of us had twenty or more years of common experience, living in the same neighborhoods, going to or teaching in the same schools, working in the local businesses. Remas had some catching up to do. But I wanted to see that look of bliss on her face as I pumped my juices into her and she sighed out her orgasm. I wanted to see it often.
Even though we were on our honeymoon, Cindy and I had to rehearse. We had a big concert coming up on Wednesday. I still hadn’t told any of my mates the details, so only Rachel knew.
“I think you need to tell them,” Rachel said to me as we walked hand-in-hand around the campus. Cindy and I had been rehearsing in a recital room at the school and our mates brought us lunch. Rachel pulled me away before we returned to practice, asking to go for a little walk. I breathed in the scent of the blooming cherry trees. The first week of April was certainly the right time to come to the nation’s capital. What a beautiful city. “Everyone needs time to prepare.”
“What kind of preparation do we need?” I asked. “I don’t want people—especially Cindy—getting all uptight about it. It’s just another performance.”
“Shopping,” Rachel grinned at me. “We’ll make sure Cindy is relaxed. Nothing like a new dress and a spa treatment to take your mind off a silly thing like a concert at the White House.”
“That’s precious,” I laughed. “I’m always focusing on the wrong thing, aren’t I?”
“No. You are always focusing on us and that is exactly the right thing, lover. You take care of us in so many ways.” She swung my hand and turned me so I could kiss her. “Desi and Sophie are staying with you and Cindy this afternoon. The rest of us are going on a scouting expedition. Remas and Donna have been working on locating potential places for us to live. Tomorrow afternoon, we’ll go shopping and Wednesday morning we’ll go to the spa. Then you’ll have time to work on your music for a while before the limos pick us up for the dinner.”
“God! Do I need a tux? I didn’t even think about that.”
“No. Our instructions indicate this is strictly informal, meaning suit and tie but not formalwear. This dinner has not been announced on the Washington social calendar. It is not an official state dinner or official dinner. There will be about fifty guests, including the twelve of us.”
“Thirteen? Remas is invited, isn’t she?”
“Yes, but under a separate invitation. She is going as an administrator for Dr. Donahue. Having fifty guests means there will be about a hundred attending. These people don’t go anywhere without an aide.”
“We should go back and break the news. But, Rachel, there’s one other thing I need to make sure we’re clear on. I plan to dedicate the concert for our live stream.”
“My lovely wives,” I said. “Rachel and I need to come clean. We’ve known for a few weeks what the venue for Wednesday’s concert is. I made the decision to keep it to ourselves until after our wedding so we wouldn’t get distracted. We all know it’s an intimate setting with dinner and our concert.”
“We’ve all figured out that it’s going to be some special affair for the reform commission and maybe key members of the OCS,” Sophie said. “They’re being awfully close-mouthed about it, though.”
“Dinner will be at the White House,” I said. My wives all looked at me blankly. Beca’s eyes, popped open.
“Wait! You mean the president’s White House? Like dinner with the President of the United States?” she asked.
“Yeah. There wasn’t anything we could do about it so Jacob and I just kept with the official line that it’s an intimate dinner and concert,” Rachel said.
“Why bother to tell us now?” Desi said, sinking into her chair. “Couldn’t you have waited until we were on our way?”
“I didn’t want to die this week,” I laughed. “Rachel has a shopping trip planned for you all tomorrow afternoon. I know you’ll all want pretty new dresses. Then a spa Wednesday morning so we’re all relaxed and ready for the evening.”
Cindy jumped up and ran out of the room.
“I’ll go,” Donna said, running after her. If the news was hitting Cindy like it had hit me when I heard it, I was sure she was in the bathroom throwing up.
After the initial shock, all of us settled down. Cindy collected herself and even though she was a little pale, I thought she’d be ready for the concert. I even went out shopping with my wives Tuesday afternoon—not an activity that I’m overwhelmingly fond of, but having the girls try on dresses and parade around in front of me had its own rewards. I got a lot of little kisses and was even called back to the dressing rooms on a few occasions to help zip a dress. Or in Desi’s case, to hold her boobs while she shook them into a dress. Yeah. Not all bad at all.
“Octave Partnership?” the security guard asked. “We’ll need identification for each of you and you’ll need to pass through the metal detector. We’ll need to inspect your instrument cases, if you don’t mind.” As if it would make a difference if I did mind. I stood to the side where I could see them handle my babies. Cindy stood beside me as they opened each of her flute cases and examined every part. These guys were professionals, used to processing guests of the president. They were polite and efficient. We all passed inspection and were met on the other side by Pamela Smart, introduced to us as our handler for the evening. Neat! We had a handler. I noted that Remas, Livy, Rachel, and Joan had official National Service medallions pinned to their dresses.
Pamela led us to the dining room where the event would be held. Of course, we were there a few hours in advance so Cindy and I could set up and rehearse in the space. A two-person camera crew was setting up and Joan and Beca were conducted to the control booth where the video would be mixed and streamed to our patrons. Pamela pointed us to the little stage and Donna and Sophie immediately went to coordinate where my stool was to be set and what the best camera angles would be. Rachel, Livy, Desi, and Remas tagged along with Pamela as she pointed out the seating arrangement in the hall. I lost track of Nanette and Brittany.
Cindy and I tuned up and tested the acoustics. People were rushing around all over the room and several paused to look up when we started to play. We stopped and started several times to get better angles and to adjust sound pickups.
“We sent out the notice when security said we were clear to do so,” Beca said when she returned to the room. “Joan is still in the control booth making sure there are no hang-ups when people start checking in for the event.”
“How much time do we have?” I asked.
“The live stream is slated to start at seven-thirty,” Donna said. “You are supposed to be playing by eight. Don’t go over time. Only salad and soup will be served before you start to play. Everyone will be waiting for you to finish before the main course is served.”
“You will be seated at the President’s table,” Pamela said. “I’m sorry, your partners will be split among several tables so others have an opportunity to talk to you. The president will introduce you herself and ask you to join her at the podium. She’ll thank you for your hard work and then return to her seat as you prepare to play.”
“Can I say something before we start?” I asked.
“Do you need to?”
“It’s our stream and I need to greet our patrons,” I said.
“Oh, yes. I see. Please don’t make a speech or try to create any new memes, okay?”
“You have my word,” I said.
We were led out of the dining room and into a kind of sitting room where we just sat. We didn’t do any making out because the ladies didn’t want to mess up their makeup. As it was, Nanette and Brittany had to start over and had only the few essential bits of makeup they could take through security.
“Miss Marvel and Mr. Hopkins, we are seating the guests now. Will you lead your partners into the dining room? A host will lead each of you to your tables. We will stay standing until the president and the first gentleman have arrived and taken their seats,” Pamela said. I could hear the noise of people arriving through the door. We needed to go find our places.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, the President of the United States, Evelyn di Marco and First Gentleman Ronald Johnson.” There was polite applause as the president and her husband entered the room and made their way to our table. They stopped at several tables and greeted others then finally got to our table.
“Will, it is wonderful that you could join us. I know we didn’t give anyone much notice in order to keep this quiet. Aaron, what a relief it must be to you to hand things over to Will,” the President said, addressing the acting director of the Office of Civilian Service and the former chairperson of the reform commission.
“Madame President, I am at your command,” Governor Adamson said. “May I present the musical wonders, Marvel and Hopkins. Miss Cynthia Marvel and Mr. Jacob Hopkins.” We were actually between the governor and the president so it was natural to turn and greet her.
“Madame President,” I said. “It is a pleasure to meet you.” Cindy bowed her head slightly and accepted the President’s handshake. Then we were all seated. The salads were placed in front of us almost as quickly as our butts hit the chairs and the President wasted no time lifting her fork so everyone in the room could begin eating.
“I’m sure you have a million questions about why you are here,” she said. “Let me give you the skinny. I want you to keep doing exactly what you’ve been doing. I understand you’ve already contracted for performances over the next three months, even before you begin service. Before, during, and after your service, I hope you will continue. I’m using this evening as an opportunity to simply make a statement that I have not asked you to play any given music nor to say any words on my behalf. And that’s it. I am aware that you feel you’ve been blindsided by my comments in the past and we want to try to restore some of your independence. Fair enough?”
Wow! She really got right down to business. The soup was served and we just kept quiet while the others at the table kept the conversation going. Cindy was on my right and her left hand never left my thigh where she periodically gripped so hard, I was sure the fabric would be torn. The President got a signal just as we finished the soup. She stood and went directly to the podium at the edge of the stage.
“Good evening, friends. Please excuse my informality. This is not an ‘official’ dinner. It’s just me throwing a little dinner for friends who have been helpful. There are no medals to be given. No certificates signed. No presidential proclamations. Just my thanks for all your help in getting the National Service Reform Bill sent to congress and in stepping up to do the hard work of putting reform into action.
“I’m told we’ve been joined in this room by some two thousand fans and patrons of a very special duo of musicians, Marvel and Hopkins. Welcome to my home. As things have shaped up over the past year, it might surprise you all to find that until this evening, I’d never met Jacob Hopkins or Cynthia Marvel. I had never communicated with them, made a suggestion to them, or asked them for anything. This evening is our first encounter and I worked through several channels to ask them to play here.
“Sometimes it works out that two powerful freight trains run on parallel tracks, speeding to the same location. So far, we’ve managed to do that without getting switches thrown at the wrong time or trying to reach the same tunnel at the same time or getting derailed. One of my aides came to me last February and suggested I watch a music video and then pointed out a meme developed based on the discussion. It said, ‘She has a pretty low bar for success.’ That meant something to me. What kind of country have we become that it can be said about the President of the United States, in all seriousness, that she has a pretty low bar for success? I set about determining how I could raise that bar so that it would never again be said about a President of the United States.
“It seemed that wherever I turned over the next several months, I encountered this duo online or even in the gossip of my staff. And I borrowed shamelessly from their popular memes and even used imagery from their videos to promote my message. When I prepared my New Year’s Day message, it did not include what has become its most famous line and rallying cry: ‘We will recover the dream.’ I heard it in the live broadcast of their concert the night before and could think of no better theme for what we are trying to do with the National Service.
“We have now officially asked Marvel and Hopkins to undertake a series of concerts to spread that message and they have consented to start that tour here tonight. Here is to the dreamers and recovering the dream. I give you Marvel and Hopkins.”
The President returned to her seat while we picked up our instruments and the audience gave a very polite round of applause. I stepped up to the microphone.
“Thank you, Madam President. Those of you here or among our patrons who have followed us for a long time might recall the days when I sat in my bedroom playing my guitar on Sunday mornings. Often, my little sister, Peyton, would come into my bedroom and settle next to me to listen to me play. Usually, she fell asleep and I ended up carrying her to bed. A year ago today, my little sister died in the collapse of our home due to a tornado. Since that day, I have never picked up my guitar without thinking of her. Tonight, we’d like to dedicate our performance to the memory of Peyton Hopkins.”
I made it through the introduction without blubbering. As soon as I finished, I faced Cindy and at her nod we launched into our new rendition of Chick Corea’s Spain. It’s lively and sets the tone for a concert that has a jazzy note as well as classical guitar and flute techniques.
I knew Peyton would want to dance to it.
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