Double Team
Chapter 219
“No more moves! You have run out of moves. Good game!”
—Microsoft, Klondike Solitaire
WE DIDN’T STICK AROUND in Charlottesville after the concert. We were on the bus fifteen minutes after the encore and were home in DC by two in the morning. The lights were blazing on all three floors of our house when the bus pulled up and our security guys jumped out to check the house.
“I asked Abby to turn the lights on for us,” Rachel giggled. “I didn’t expect her to turn them all on.” The guys came out of the house a few minutes later and signaled all was clear. We took our overnight bags and instruments off the bus and were home at last.
“I’m hitting the shower,” I said as I headed for the stairs. “I feel like I haven’t had a real shower in two months.”
“I’ll wash your back if you’ll wash my front,” Cindy said as she slipped up beside me. We held hands as we headed to the third floor.
If I haven’t mentioned it, the playboy congressman from Arkansas we bought this from did quite a number remodeling the third floor master suite. It has a shower even bigger than Donna’s in Indiana. In ten minutes, it was filled with me and twelve naked girls, all getting soapy and sliding around against each other. We’d gotten just enough sleep on the bus to be awake enough to play. I can’t say any of us really got clean as crowded as we were, but we all got off. And I did wash Cindy’s front, filling my hands with her tiddies while I pumped into her pussy from behind and she sang out loud enough to fill the house.
We woke up in a tangled mess on the huge bed in the master suite. All thirteen of us had managed to pile together and waking up looking at the ceiling mirror with all those pretty tits and asses on display was like waking up to the painting of a Dionysian orgy by Auguste Léveque. Not at all unpleasant.
In fact, I found my hard cock nestled between Desi’s buns and we both seemed to be having the same boat-rocking dream. She managed to get her leg out from under Sophie and lift it enough that I could find the entrance to her pussy and push into it. We both moaned together and other areas of the bed began to stir. I saw Livy’s athletic ass disappear into the bathroom. That was an inspiration. One by one, my other wives slipped out of bed and took their turns in the bathroom or went downstairs to use one of the other five bathrooms while Desi and I kept our rocking rhythm going.
I held her big boobs in my hands and caressed her nipples. She tilted her head back enough that I could capture her lips with mine and touch her tongue. She arched her back, thrusting her pussy more directly at me so I could get deeper and I lodged there while come erupted from my cock and she moaned out her pleasure.
We kissed one more time and then she, too, ran for the bathroom. I guess I was the last one to roll out of bed and go relieve myself. I turned on the shower again and stepped in to rinse the sweat and semen off me. I just wanted to stand beneath the flowing water for a few hours and let it wash the stress of the past two months—hell, six months—away. We had two more concerts—one at The Birchmere in Alexandria and the other at Kennedy Center. The first was an invitation-only affair and would have only about five hundred guests. A real intimate setting compared to the massive concerts we’d been playing. We planned an entire evening of Spanish music with tangos, flamenco, and even a few salsa numbers we’d cooked up. There was a dance floor and we hoped Sophie and Brittany would be able to entice attendees onto it.
I was just standing under the water daydreaming when I felt hands gently rubbing my shoulders.
“You’ve done good, lover,” Rachel whispered. “Let’s just spend the day relaxing in bed together. We can entertain the wives as they bring us food and drink.”
“Yes, Rache. I can’t think of anything better. Come to me, my love.” I turned in her arms and our lips met as I crushed her naked breasts to my chest. My cock rose against the nest of red curls that crowned her mound. We rubbed each other but didn’t attempt to make love in the shower. We stepped out and took a towel from the fresh stack Rachel had brought up with her. Then, as she’d requested, we headed back to bed and resumed our touching and loving. I lavished kisses down her throat and chest to capture first one and then the other nipple between my lips to suckle and lash with my tongue. I continued down her stomach, spending special attention on her abdomen over where her ovaries lay. This always made her squirm and I progressed down to her right leg and back up the inside to the shaved lips below the rat’s nest of red hair on her mound.
I wanted to spend time opening her folds with my tongue and tracing the shape of her clitoris as I probed inside her channel for the hot spot I knew was there. I knew she wouldn’t let me bring her off this way—not the first time. I waited for the signal and was ready when it came. I kissed my way up her body and by the time our lips met, my cock had slipped into that open passage. Somewhere in that process, all thought of her as my manager had disappeared. She was my true love and I shared my entire being with her.
This was my favorite time with Rachel. We were connected, rocking in a smooth even rhythm that would bring us both to ultimate fulfillment with our eyes locked together. I fell into those green depths and lost myself there, silently communicating the love our bodies were expressing. I could feel the pressure building as her hot wet tunnel accepted my invading cock. This was both the most difficult time and the most satisfying. As I started ejaculating, I kept the same even rhythm going, resisting the urge to simply plant myself deep in her and come. I had my reward as the combined motion and spraying of my seed brought Rachel over the top in just a few strokes.
And even then, we didn’t change our rhythm. I’d managed to get past the ultra-sensitive period and now her pulsing and movement was keeping me hard so we could continue to rut.
“Now, my love,” she said, pulling her legs back and catching them behind the knees with her hands. “Now fuck me to oblivion!” I rose on my hands and my hips began churning forward and back as Rachel’s eyes lost focus on all but our image in the mirror overhead. Soft, gentle, consistent love was only one part of our sex life. Rachel wanted another dose of my come and I would pound this one into her as our hearts raced and our voices raised. This time, I felt Rachel’s muscles tighten and release as she reached her peak and I thrust deeply into her and held still as my cock spit out the remains of all the semen I could produce in any given twenty-four hour period.
It was an hour later that Livy and Nanette woke us with breakfast.
The idea of daylong sex in bed, of course, was a pipe dream. We needed to go to the bus yard and clean our two vehicles. We’d use the bus to get to the venue in Alexandria and again for Kennedy Center, but we were done with the motorhome. We needed to clean it, launder the bedding and remake the beds, empty the refrigerator and cupboards, and scour it for any remnants of our living there that might have been left from our habitation. And we had to restrain each other from enjoying ‘one last time’ in this bed or that.
We had all our personal vehicles in the lot and filled them with the detritus of our two-month residency, as well as our clothes, electronics, toiletries, and various magazines and books. We finished about mid-afternoon when Emily drove each of the big vehicles out to the truck wash garage and we soaked each other as we soaped and sprayed the exterior. I wondered how many rock musicians went on tour and then had to clean up their own mess. Scrubbing the floors certainly changed my attitude about how we treated the vehicles.
When we got home, Abby was sitting with Nanette in the kitchen and I could smell dinner.
“We’re just keeping things hot until everyone has cleaned up and come to the table,” Nanette said. “No fooling around this time. We’re hungry.”
We hurried around and got our showers before rushing downstairs to the table with our towels. I’d held Rachel’s chair and seated myself before I realized we were all naked and Abby was sitting at the table with her eyes closed.
“Uh-oh. Sorry, Abigail. We’ll go get clothes on,” Rachel said.
“Oh, fuck!” Abby yelled. She stood at the table and began furiously removing her clothes and scattering them on the floor behind her. “Nobody’s even going to know I’m here. Don’t lose your appetites.”
Abby had once described herself as pear-shaped with a wide mouth, small tits, and a big butt. I guess it was a pretty accurate description. But hell! Small or not, Abigail Johnson’s tits were out at our dinner table. I tried not to notice, but when Rachel’s hand found my chub, it was obvious I had.
“This looks great,” Donna said, serving herself from the platter of breaded and stuffed porkchops. “Did you guys work all afternoon fixing this meal?”
“Um… no.” Abby said. “Nanette and I sat here gossiping all afternoon while Alfredo’s Catering did the cooking.”
“Good choice. This spinach and cannellini beans is amazing,” Beca said.
“Everything! Did you try the mushrooms?” Sophie asked. “Amazing.”
“We might have to keep Alfredo’s on speed dial,” Nanette said. “Can’t afford this kind of food every day, but it’s a welcome home meal. No one wants to cook and clean tonight.”
By the time we’d finished eating and got the dishes in the dishwasher, Abby seemed to have forgotten she was naked. We all went downstairs, ran through the shower and got in the hot tub.
“So, any news we should be aware of from your mother?” I asked Abby.
“I was present at the White House last night while the President watched the stream of your concert,” she sighed. “I don’t believe I have ever seen my mother laugh so hard. You had the President of the United States laughing so hard tears were running down her cheeks. It is a damn good thing we were in the family lounge and no one else could hear us.”
“Well, I’m glad she thought it was entertaining.” Not exactly the response I expected.
“Oh, she did. You know Addison Jeffries chose not to run against the former president and now he’s insanely jealous of Mother.”
“He couldn’t have won the office,” Donna said. “He’s too similar to the man he’d have been running against.”
“That might be. But he still believes he is the one who should be sitting in the Oval Office. And you very cleverly didn’t accuse him of any wrong-doing. I’ll tell you, Mother is simply glad you aren’t thirty-five years old because she knows she’d lose to you, Jacob.”
“I’m never going to run for office. What a horrid job. No public office for me.”
“Mother has a quote from Douglas Adams’ The Restaurant at the End of the Universe hanging in her private study at home. I don’t mean in the White House. I mean back in Nevada where we’re from. It says, ‘To summarize the summary: anyone who is capable of getting themselves made President should on no account be allowed to do the job.’ She at least has a sense of humor.”
“It’s almost over,” Cindy sighed. “I just want to finish high school and learn some new music.”
“You’re so cute,” Abby said. “Yes, you’ll finish high school and get to learn new music. But it’s never over. Don’t forget that before you finish your service, we’ll be in the middle of a new presidential election campaign. If I were you, I’d start preparing for that. People will be announcing their candidacy as soon as your Reformist Party takes power in January, as you so boldly predicted.”
“You can’t sell something if you can’t close the sale,” I muttered. “I’m going to bed. I’m still not caught up on my sleep.”
I never fancied Marvel and Hopkins as a dance band. It was just Cindy and me on the little stage, but all my wives interacted with the people who had gathered for dinner and entertainment. Cindy and I pulled out our entire repertoire of Spanish music and Spanish dances. Brittany and Sophie taught the tango and other salsa dances on the dance floor.
I recognized a lot of the people in the room. It was mostly employees and influencers of the OCS. The only spiel I did was to announce near the middle of the second set, “Vote Reformist.” That got a lot of applause and we went into Libertango from there.
Dr. D, Will, Jo, Simon, Ron, and several others stopped to chat with us after the show and all seemed to be in a good mood. No one commented on my political message or creation of a new party. It was like they all were going to wait and see what the election brought before they made any declarations that it was a good thing or a bad thing.
Well, fuck ’em. I was the one who went out on a limb and if the election failed, they’d be quick to saw it off. Cindy and I had one more concert to perform before the election and that was Monday at Kennedy Center. I planned to say no more than I had at this performance and we’d be concentrating entirely on our classical repertoire.
With the election so close and our tour all but finished, Ron was letting up on security. Lyle was back to run with me early in the morning, but whoever was watching the house was invisible. We didn’t go out anyplace on Sunday, so I couldn’t tell if any of our security followed us.
I grabbed Rebeca and Rachel by the hand and pulled them into the back yard to our picnic table. We were pretty much sheltered from all directions and I needed to talk to them about something that was bothering me and I didn’t feel I could ask Amanda. That was strange. I needed information but didn’t feel comfortable asking a computer for it. But I’d discovered that not only did Amanda search for information, she collected it. I didn’t want her collecting this info.
“What’s on your mind?” Beca asked as she cuddled up on one side of me. It was getting pretty chilly in DC and we’d all put jackets on.
“The old man,” I said softly.
“You haven’t had an incident where he took over in a long time,” Rachel said. “Are you having troubles with all the stress?”
“It’s not that so much,” I said. “But sometimes he pops up with an observation that takes me completely by surprise. Since this could be a difference between his world and this one, I only felt comfortable talking to the two of you.”
“Well, go ahead,” Beca said. “I’m always interested in learning about your V1 world.”
“Here’s the thing. A campus cop tried to evict us in Champaign. There was a massive demonstration in Atlanta. I was kidnapped in DC and trained for four weeks in the mountains. The general tried to use SSR to arrest me in Ohio. There was another kidnapping attempt in Kentucky. We’ve had varying degrees of security surrounding us for two months on the road. No one had a gun. Why not?”
“Seriously, Jacob?” Rachel asked.
“In the V1 world, everyone was armed. You wouldn’t have seen an attempt like any of those without a gun. And certainly, the kind of security we have would be armed. Are there stronger gun laws here? I know you liked going to the shooting range. You and Livy both excelled in riflery in basic. Which, by the way, is a component I never had in my training. Why no guns?”
“It’s not really a gun law,” Rachel said. “I can’t believe you lived in a world where people just waved guns at each other. Committing a crime of any sort while armed is a felony with mandatory life sentence.”
“What? You mean if a guy carries a gun into a convenience store to rob the cash register, it’s a life sentence. Automatic? No appeal?”
“That’s right,” Beca said. “Threatening or intimidating a person with a firearm during the commission of a crime is assumed to be attempted murder. The implication is that you intend to use the weapon to enforce your will.”
“That doesn’t mean we don’t have any gun crime,” Rachel added. “And some things, like drugging your victim, are almost as bad. But overall, even criminals realize the money in a cash box isn’t worth life in prison.”
“Amazing. In V1’s world, they’re still arguing about gun ownership and licensing and regulations. Basically, trying to make gun owners pay the penalty for gun crimes. They’ve never gotten around to punishing the crime itself.”
“Amanda, are there projections or polls regarding the outcome of the election tomorrow?” I asked my little friend.
“Such polls may be taken by candidates to find out how they are doing in their campaign, but federal election law prohibits public disclosure of pre-voting polls. It was determined some thirty years ago that early polling adversely influences the outcome of the election. Without disclosing poll numbers, though, the bookies in Las Vegas set odds on each individual race.”
“What are the odds they are giving for Senator Jeffries?” I asked.
“Casinos are accepting bets with 3:2 odds that he will win reelection.”
“What about Al Johnson in Michigan?”
“Current odds are 7:3 that he will prevail.”
“It seems so strange to me that the odds are left to the casinos to set and aren’t set by news polls. Well, that’s probably as good as we’ll get until tomorrow.”
“Jacob, the Design Intelligence mainframe has issued an alert. It monitors the National Service AI. An attempt to alter your service assignment was made earlier this morning. Email from Ron Starling has just arrived asking you not to leave the house for Kennedy Center until he gets here. Three more security people have been dispatched to watch the house and Miss Johnson’s secret service agents have been notified there is a credible threat.”
“Oh, shit! Is everyone in the house and accounted for?”
“Olivia Dayton left the house an hour ago to drive back to her base in Blacksburg. Nanette Schwartz and Brittany Adams are grocery shopping. Everyone else is present in the house.”
“What is this, Ron?”
“It’s very James Bond, Jacob. We actually do have the technology to insert a tracking device beneath your skin. If you should be kidnapped and your ID and phone taken away like the last time, we’ll still be able to find you based on this. Unless they put you in a Faraday cage. That’s not likely, considering their stated intents from the man in the blue suit.”
“Any results on finding out who that is?”
“He’s an officer of RSI Conglomerate and slipped out of the country to go to China. This latest incursion indicates the National Service AI may have been compromised directly by the Chinese.”
We were scared half to death and I think our performance suffered from it. I stuck with the plan to simply encourage people to vote reformist and then we went home and huddled in our beds. Our ballots had long since been mailed in as absentee ballots so we spent all of Tuesday evening quietly watching election returns as they began to filter in at seven.
It was a victory for the Reformist Party. Not every candidate won, but we gained enough seats in both the House and Senate to control the election of the next speaker and senate leader. Jeffries had won reelection but not enough support to be reelected as Senate Leader. He was, of course, touting his great victory in his victory speech.
I wondered if it was over now. As far as I was concerned, my campaigning days were ended. I wasn’t going to keep stumping. It was in the hands of the 119th congress. Cindy and I would be doing feel-good tours and concerts to keep people’s spirits up about entering service. No one should be opposed to that, right?
I think we all breathed a sigh of relief as we turned out the lights and went to bed.
End Part XVII
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