Double Team
Chapter 215
“The artist’s job is not to succumb to despair but to find an antidote for the emptiness of existence.”
—Woody Allen, Midnight in Paris:
The Shooting Script
THE SADDEST PART of my nineteenth birthday was putting Beca on a plane to return to DC. The time together had been so short. And for the first time we had been together just as lovers. Making love once had not been enough and we’d made love yet again when we woke up in the morning. I held that girl in my arms for twenty minutes before I could stand to let her go at the airport.
Once I was back at the motorhome, though, my wives set about making the rest of my birthday a very happy one. And they weren’t content to simply lie around the motorhome naked to do it. The bus picked us up for a tour of some of the many beautiful and historic places in Des Moines, including Salisbury House with its art and collection of musical instruments, Pappajohn Sculpture Park, and the Better Homes and Gardens Test Gardens where the magazine has its shoot location with twenty-two different gardens. Of course, the women were full of ideas about how we could transform our back yard into one of the showcase gardens.
We went to an old Italian restaurant where the girls seemed intent on making sure we all ate enough to not be able to move for the rest of the night. I had a steak as big as my head with sides of pasta, salads, and tiramisu for dessert.
Attempting to cripple us with overeating didn’t stop us from spending the evening—most of the night—naked and making love. Donna, Emily, Cindy, Desi, Rachel, and Remas made sure my birthday was filled with fantasies that became reality.
Performing in arenas and outdoor amphitheaters can really distort reality. In Des Moines, we performed at the Civic Center and considered the 2500 seats with orchestra seating and three balconies to be an intimate setting. Most of our venues for the remainder of the tour would be this size or smaller and were far more suited to our style of music with just three instruments and a voice than the amplified stadiums we’d gone to in the middle stages of our tour.
Most of the cities we were going to in the last third of the tour were smaller than places like New York, Boston, Detroit, and Chicago. And those cities had congressional races and senate races that were hotly contested. We needed to sway a lot of votes and the broadcast from Detroit had shown that we weren’t messing around. The Midwest and upper tier of the south were a different matter entirely. This central tier of America was known for its conservatism, bordering on provincialism. These states were among the last to ratify the twenty-eighth amendment and had the least desire to see anything change. But there were certain triggers that would set them off. I was going to try to trip them.
The Des Moines concert was a delight. The incumbent representative of the third congressional district had been a borderline vote in the House. She asked Donna for a few minutes on stage with us and after a quick interview, it was granted. She didn’t wait till the end of the concert, but joined me during my spiel at the end of the first set.
“Jacob, Marvel and Hopkins and Company, House Octave, National Service Corps, thank you for allowing me a moment to address my constituents during this incredibly beautiful performance. First, let me say that what you have done for acoustic music, classical, semi-classical, and surprising Spanish Renaissance music, is wonderful. You’ve revitalized a part of our cultural heritage that had slid aside in this age of high amplification and digital downloads. Thank you.
“And revitalizing a part of our heritage is what I believe the reform movement is all about. I wasn’t sure about hearing the service reform bill and voted with the majority to table it in the last session of congress. In the past months, weeks, and even days, I’ve come to see that this is a problem that we all need to face, not just with the National Service, but in every aspect of our elected government. In the past two weeks, I’ve been in touch with my counterparts around the state and in neighboring states to talk about the reform movement. As a result of our conversations and deep concern about the condition of our national politics, I have joined the Reform Caucus and will state openly that I favor not only National Service reform, but sweeping reform of our legislative practices according to the platform published by the caucus. This includes campaign finance reform, legislative management reform, and congressional ethics reform.
“We have strayed. I confess, I let the business of government overshadow some of my own ethics and principles during the past six years of my tenancy. No more! Our constitution was created in order to form a more perfect union. We cannot assume the world has come to a standstill in the 235 years since the constitution was written. It was founded on a dream that we have let fade from our minds and hearts. Today, I join Jacob and the Reform Caucus in boldly stating, we will recover the dream.”
We encountered something in Kansas we hadn’t seen since Atlanta. People were parading in front of the Lied Center on the University campus in Lawrence carrying signs. It wasn’t a protest, though. These signs were in support and were carried right into the auditorium for the performance. They read ‘Vote Reform’ and ‘Support the Reform Caucus.’ It was obvious our message had grown beyond what we started out with.
In St. Louis, Senator Hornby joined us onstage at Powell Symphony Hall.
“You have undoubtedly heard about the formation of the Reform Caucus among candidates for the United States Congress,” Senator Hornby said. “That caucus has not yet infiltrated the more reserved Senate. However, the principles expressed in the platform of the caucus must catch the eye of even the most staunchly conservative of us in the Senate. These are noble principles. They harken to the fundamental notion of a government of the people, by the people, and for the people. I have encouraged colleagues in the eight legislative districts of Missouri to carefully consider aligning themselves with the reform movement. Just as I am carefully considering it. This is a delicate time for the United States and we must walk carefully and deliberately.”
Well, he hadn’t exactly said he was joining the movement. I was beginning to see some of the slippery sides of politics. I speculated Senator Hornby would move to whatever the winning side of the reform movement was seated after the election.
When we boarded our bus for Louisville the next day, I saw two familiar faces standing beside the door. Tom and Jenny, Abigail Johnson’s Secret Service detail. The two visually scanned each of us as we got on the bus and I could tell they were mentally comparing us to the images they had memorized from a couple of months of following us around.
Sure enough, Abby was sitting at one of the tables where we studied and worked while riding, looking at Amanda.
“Are we having a meeting before we leave or are you riding with us?” I asked.
“I’m flying out of Cincinnati late tonight,” she answered. “Thought I might catch a ride with you as far as Louisville if it isn’t too much trouble.” I decided to be evil and tease the President’s daughter.
“I’m okay with that. We’ve all gotten pretty used to being naked in front of random people. Hope you don’t mind.” I started to pull off my shirt and saw Abby go pale.
“Jacob, play nice,” Rachel said. She grabbed me around the waist and kissed me. I was ready to play, all right. We’d made love after the show last night with Cindy and I could have just stayed in the motorhome with them for the trip to Louisville.
“Okay. But we could just go to the back sofa. She wouldn’t see anything,” I whined.
“Honestly! Abby, aside from some verbal abuse, we don’t normally try to make our friends uncomfortable. We’ll try to keep our clothes on,” Rachel said. “Unless you decide to strip with us.”
“Um… No thank you.” She hunched her shoulders and became intensely interested in Amanda who had chosen that moment to move herself to the middle of the table. “I’m going to have words with mother,” she muttered. I slid into the seat opposite her and fondly reached out to pat Amanda.
“Like our little friend?” I asked. “Amanda, what are the road conditions, traffic, and estimated time to Louisville today?” I asked.
“Road conditions are smooth, Jacob. There is moderate traffic projected around Evansville and as we approach Louisville. Without unforeseen difficulties, travel time is estimated at five hours, including a rest area break. ETA at the Louisville base is two o’clock.”
“Wasn’t there a good restaurant near Evansville we liked when we were there last?”
“Accessing records of your June Grand Loop shows that you ate at the Cambridge Grill near the junction of Interstate 84 and US 41. There is no record of your opinion of the food, Jacob.”
“Thank you, Amanda. Please feed the coordinates to our driver’s GPS and schedule us to stop for lunch there.”
“Affirmative.”
“I know I brought that to you a few weeks ago, but what is that?” Abby demanded. The bus swung onto the interstate and we were on the road.
“She’s basically an advanced search engine that can get us almost any information we want. She’s what enabled us to get Al Johnson set up so fast in Detroit.”
“That was pretty impressive. Mother has been tossing around the ‘old yellow dog’ line ever since. She’s not so sure what to think about the Reform Caucus. She wanted National Service reform, not reformation of the whole government,” Abby said. “But that will play itself out however it works.”
“So, do you have an envelope for me?” I asked.
“No. If I did, I would have handed it to you and flown out of St. Louis. What I have are some observations from mother that she didn’t want to put in writing. I’ll start by saying, she doesn’t have advice for you—just information. For some reason she still considers your total independence regarding what you say in your concerts to be very important. But she also wants you to have access to the current facts.” Abby eyed Amanda cautiously. “Things that might not be available on a search.”
“Okay. I’m going to make a pot of coffee before we get started. Care for any?”
“Thanks. Working at the OCS got me addicted to coffee fast. And I’d always been so pure,” she sighed.
“We specialize in corrupting the innocent,” I said. “Just ask Cindy.”
“Oh, yes,” Cindy joined in. She reflected Abby’s posture of innocence and sigh. “I was a virgin, innocent of the ways of the world, when I met Jacob. Now look at the fallen woman I’ve become. A wanton sex slave to the base desires of my pod. Corrupted.”
“I hope I’m being played,” Abby said. “You guys are too much.” I finished making coffee and served her a cup. She looked at it and Rachel went to our mini fridge to get cream. She set a bowl of sugar packets on the table. “Thank you, Rachel. I know I turn my coffee into a candy bar, but I can’t help it.”
“To each her own.”
“So, the big move is that even though the legislature is in and out of session during October in order to accommodate campaigns and midterm elections, they do meet periodically. Mother expects a motion to take the reform bill from the table and open debate by Friday of this week.”
“That’s great. That’s what we wanted, isn’t it?” I said. Yes. We’re having a positive impact.
“You’d think so. And believe me, we all want the bill placed under consideration. But don’t you think the timing is strange? Taking the bill from the table for consideration just ten days before the election? It looks like a move to show incumbents, even those who are openly anti-reform, as careful lawmakers who consider all things in good time. An effort to defuse the pro-reform movement by saying, ‘See? We were going to consider it all along.’ And the bill only needs to be off the table for ten days before they can table it again and be clear of the elections.”
“And we’d all fall for it,” I sighed. “Just like I did. We’d think we’d won without actually changing the makeup of congress. We’re sunk.”
“It’s a long game, as mother likes to call it. It will depend on whether your pro-reform candidates can get a jump on the action and convince people they are the reason congress is pretending to act,” Abby said.
“When did they become ‘my’ candidates?” I asked. “With the exception of Detroit, I’ve been careful not to specifically endorse any candidate. I’ve kept everyone focused on voting against anti-reform candidates.”
“And by doing that, you started a movement. You can’t start something like this and shirk responsibility for it later.”
“Wait. I thought the President… Oh, shit.” Of course. I thought I was being used as a messenger by and for the President. But if everything went south, they’d shoot the messenger and the President wouldn’t know a thing about it. So, that’s why my independence was so valuable. It would have been easier to stay in the SSR. I’d have been appreciated there.
I stood up and left the table. Desi looked up at me and I held out my hand. She grinned and hopped up.
“I need to clear my head,” I said. She grabbed my hand and led me to the back of the bus where a sofa was sheltered from the rest of the bus.
“Are they going to…?” Abby started. I didn’t hear the rest.
When I get overwhelmed with information, life, or emotion, I need to get out and clear my head. The most effective way I’ve found is to pound out a few miles running. Just like when my characters start talking to me, everything gets flushed out of my brain and I can start assembling things slowly. The second most effective way is to play music. Music speaks to me. It soothes the soul, as LeBlanc used to say. I can get lost in my guitar for hours and the world disappears.
The third way is sex. I know that sounds like a cliché and I shouldn’t be using sex for stress relief. It goes deeper than that, though. Sex is more than a physical act to me. Sex is losing myself completely in my lover. And just like running and music bring me great pleasure, so does sex. But the pleasure is somehow a secondary response to the act itself.
Desi and I were naked before we hit the sofa. We spread towels out under us out of courtesy for our pod mates and the service, which owned the bus. But then I was lost in my lover. The world could have ended and I wouldn’t have known.
“Tomorrow’s your birthday, love,” I said. “What can I give you or do for you to make it the happiest day of your life?”
“Exactly what you are doing, Jacob. I couldn’t be happier than when I’m making love with you.”
“Is that true? We both have eleven other wives. I know you spent some very happy time with Donna last night. I heard you,” I laughed as I bent to suck one of her nipples into my mouth.
“I love sex with our wives,” she said. “But it doesn’t diminish what I feel when I’m with you. I know it was strange and maybe a little stalkerish to arrange for you to win the bid for my virginity. I told everyone it was to keep the dogs away. It served that purpose. None of them could understand that I’d sold my virginity and wasn’t free to give it to any of them. But it was a lot more than that.” She paused and moaned as my fingers found her dampness and spread the slippery fluids around her clit. “Yes. Like that. Touch me lover. And keep suckling my breasts. Oh, Jacob, I love you.”
“I love you, Desiree Whitcomb. You are beautiful, talented, smart, and all the things I desire,” I said. I worked my way down her body to get my mouth around that slippery button.
“Oh, Jacob. That’s so good. I can’t believe there’s another man in the world who has been trained so well to eat pussy. You lick like a girl.” She giggled and then caught her breath as I inserted two fingers into her hot channel to gently search for the spot I knew got her engines running like no other.
“I’ve had good teachers,” I said.
“Yeah, the best. Even with all our other lovers, though, when I’m with you I feel like I’m the only one. I decided on you to be my lover when we were in seventh grade. There was something about the quiet, haunted boy who sat in the back of the classroom with his fingers moving all the time that made me want to feel those fingers strumming chords in my pussy. When I told Mom, she said to give it time to mature and see if the feeling held. It did. You’ve always been the only boy for me. I’m getting so close, Jacob. Please come and kiss me while you put your cock in my pussy and we make love.”
I crawled up her body and she opened her legs fully to accept my cock into her inner sanctum. That first stroke brought both our eyes wide open and staring into each other. I withdrew most of the way and pushed in again, feeling the walls of her vagina pulsing and gripping at me. Again, we thrust, picking up a rhythm that brought us closer. It probably takes more time to read this than it did to perform the act. I’ve read that the average length of copulation is only four and a half minutes. With both of us so stimulated from the foreplay and our confessions of love for each other, I’m sure it was much less before she stiffened and clasped my cock tightly as she came. Another thrust into the impossibly tightened channel and I was pouring out my soul into her body.
“Desi, I love you,” I said.
It’s not the most romantic thing in the world to fall asleep on your lover, but as we kissed and petted each other, Desi held me tightly against her amazing breasts and I drifted off.
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