Double Team
Chapter 225
“I’ll follow you, even to death—but I won’t live with you any more.”
—Prosper Mérimée, Carmen
PEACEFUL. QUIET. PASTORAL. Unfortunately, we weren’t expected at Tanglewood until Monday and all those thoughts of simple bliss were put on hold as we waited on the bus or wandered around the grounds of the music camp. There were few people in residence in January and a wing of practice rooms was opened to us as well as the dining hall. When the other two groups arrived on Monday, they’d reside at the dormitory, but Emily had gone to work and found a three-bedroom bed and breakfast just off the Tanglewood campus. By noon on Saturday, we were sitting in the cheerful family room of the little lodge and considering what trouble we could possibly get into on a snowy afternoon.
It’s a picture postcard location in the Berkshires. Of course, I wondered if anyone today knew what picture postcards were. Or how to mail one.
This month was supposed to be downtime for us. Cindy and I were supposed to be able to study and practice without the pressures of touring or performing. As a part of our work for the service, we were to mentor the two new deputation teams that were in basic and would join us here at Tanglewood on Monday. Of course, Beca, Joan, Em, and Rachel had their regular jobs to work on, though they could do them remotely with the computers and cellphones provided by the service. Brittany and Desi were supposed to be working on their own classes. Desi was scheduled to start rehearsals for a musical at the school in two weeks. I hoped everything was calmed down by then. Brittany was the first member of Sophie’s new dance team and they were expected to start rehearsals for performances this spring about the same time Desi did.
Donna was taking some well-earned time off. I still worried that she had given up teaching to become our producer. One look at her backstage when we were on tour, though, and we could all see she was in her element. She worked with the house crew in the locations where we toured, made sure lighting and sound were coordinated, communicated between the house and stage for curtain cues and intermissions, and generally made sure Cindy, Desi, Remas, and I were in place when the curtain rose.
Nanette had been doing volunteer work at a local clinic but really took on the role of managing our household. Without her scheduling who was cooking and cleaning, coordinating meals and menus, managing the massive family calendar, and even coordinating the two people we had come into the house each week to clean and do laundry, our pod would have descended into chaos. Like Donna on stage, Nanette in our home was in her element.
That left Remas. Officially, she was on loan to our tour during the fall and had returned to the Young America Orchestra after election day. Dr. D had arranged for her to be with us at Tanglewood, but she was due back in Washington for the weekend performances. I found our gypsy sitting in a window seat looking out at the late afternoon snowfall that was lightly dusting the campus.
“Hey, sweetheart,” I said as I nudged my way to a space behind her so I could wrap my arms around her. “What are you looking at so intently?”
“The future,” she said as she leaned back against me.
“Mmm. Can you see it clearly in the snowfall?”
“Can we ever see the future clearly? I performed last night and came home expecting to make love to one of my girls or maybe my guy. Instead, I was loaded onto a bus and shipped off to Massachusetts. I still haven’t gotten laid.”
“Is that what you are looking for out there?” I asked. She unwrapped the hijab from her head, shook out her light brown curls, and leaned back against me, offering her neck to my kisses.
“Maybe. I think I’m going to quit wearing the hijab altogether. It served its purpose. Kind of took on a life of its own and became something I was trapped in. Do you think my hair is pretty enough to be shown in public?”
I ran my fingers through the hair in question, lifting the weight of its curls. Free from the headscarf, Remas’s hair hung down to her shoulder blades. I lifted it back so I could nibble on her left ear and she hummed happily. I worked my hands around to the buttons on the front of her blouse and began releasing them one at a time.
“Your hair is beautiful. You are beautiful, dear heart.”
“Sometimes your little endearments sound so old fashioned, dude.”
“I’m certainly not going to call my lover dude,” I laughed.
“I heard Emily calling her Prius ‘dude’ a couple of days ago. I could be your bae.” Having opened her shirt, I explored inside, caressing her breasts through her bra. My right hand stroked down her torso to her belt and she sucked her stomach in as if to give me room to get between it and the waist of her jeans. I tickled there slightly and then withdrew as she sighed. “Did our hosts leave?” she whispered.
“Yes. They said they’d be back to make breakfast but until then the house was ours.” I kissed down her shoulder and moved her strap away.
“No reason to have clothes on then, is there?” she asked. She reached a hand between us and popped the catch on her bra, releasing her breasts to my questing fingers. I rolled her nipples between my thumb and pointer, searching for the exact pressure she seemed to like best. “It’s so beautiful here looking at the snow in the window seat. Make love to me, Jacob. Please?”
“It might not be the most comfortable place, but I will make love to you anyplace we can,” I said. We finished undressing each other and tried several positions to hold our naked bodies against each other on the narrow window seat. Ultimately, we ended up with her straddling my lap and lowering herself onto my cock as I leaned back against the cold glass. As I penetrated the welcoming chamber, I forgot about the discomfort of the cold.
“I feel so right here. So connected to you. Not just your cock in my pussy but your soul with my soul. Love me, Jacob. I love you so much.” I saw that familiar look of bliss come across her face—a beatific smile, eyes open but unseeing as the experience of being filled physically was reflected emotionally. I leaned forward and captured a nipple between my lips and licked it, flicking the sensitive nub with the tip of my tongue. I could feel her muscles fluttering against my cock, grasping, milking me as she rose to a peak marked by the long and plaintive sigh that issued from her. She settled fully down, pulling me in as far as she could and continued milking me with her vagina as my eruption began and filled her.
She hugged me, trying to keep me inside her as long as possible before I softened, pulsing her muscles to keep me stimulated. I stroked her back and butt, holding her tightly against me.
“I’m leaving,” she whispered.
“I’ve accepted a six-year extension to my service and appointment as principal cellist and concertmaster for the new Pacific Northwest Young America Orchestra,” Remas told my stunned mates and me. “In Seattle.”
“You’re leaving us?” Cindy whined. Tears were running down her cheeks.
“I’m not like you and Jacob, Boo,” she said. “I don’t want a solo career. I want to be part of an orchestra. This is why I play the cello. This is where I belong.”
“I thought you belonged with us,” Desi sighed. “How are we supposed to take you breaking up with us?”
“I’m sorry. I knew I should have just slipped away. I didn’t want to hurt you.”
“Remas,” I said softly, “we’ve always wanted you to be happy. We’re disappointed that we can’t fulfill the part of you that is key to that. But we love you and we want you to do what is right for you.”
“Come here, lover,” Donna said, holding out her arms. Remas settled into them and buried her face in Donna’s neck. “We always knew there was a chance it would come to this. It’s why you’ve never worn the ring. It was more than just trying to fit with a crew who already had a history and common base of experience in Indiana. It’s always been about you becoming the woman you were meant to be. We love you and we will always support and miss you. Maybe one day, we will find our way back together.”
The floodgates opened and all eleven of us were soaked in tears. When we talked to Rachel and Livy, we knew it would start up again. Remas had been an anchor for Rachel in DC from the start of her service. We found that Dr. D had talked to Remas Friday afternoon and nearly didn’t make the offer because she was committed to keeping our pod together. The new conductor of the orchestra, only two years older than Remas, had insisted that she wanted Remas as her concertmaster and principal cellist. Remas was to return to DC next weekend for a last performance at Kennedy Center with the Young America Orchestra and then leave on Monday for Seattle. There, she and the new director would begin the process of building the expansion orchestra.
It was truly the opportunity of a lifetime for our lover and we would have been heartlessly selfish to try to make her turn it down.
Would there come a day when we could spring back together on the bungee cord of our relationship, like Rachel insisted was the basis for our pod? It remained to be seen. Having a mate temporarily assigned to duty elsewhere was vastly different than having one permanently assigned to a career move in a different part of the country. I think Remas knew that and had chosen not to wear the ring we offered because it seemed so impossible.
17 January 2023
Are we as freakin’ crazy as the other musicians we’ve met? I know starting a musical movement with just a guitar and flute is just a little strange. Even adding vocals, cello, and dance to our performances is pushing the envelope. And I suppose using the deputation team tour to launch a political party says we are definitely on the west end of tomorrow when it comes to deviant acts.
But really, these next two make us and our twelve-person plural domestic partnership look middle of the road.
And somehow, we’re supposed to mentor them. We’re supposed to help turn them into two new deputation teams who will tour the country promoting the benefits of National Service and convince the nation’s youth that service is not the end of the world.
Cindy crawled in bed with me last night, shaking after our first encounter. She didn’t even come to bed planning to have sex. Of course, we did. Whenever Cindy gets uptight or stressed, it comes out her pussy. Literally. Mentoring a jazz trio whose members are all older than she is hit all her stress buttons. Among us, we diddled or licked the release button until she’d announced her resolution to the world.
Well, today will be an interesting day as I take on the task of mentoring the rock group. The old man cringed at the thought of it and went suddenly silent. I’m going to start by just listening to Dark Smith’s program straight through to see what they’ve got. I was present for their audition just after Thanksgiving. I want to see what’s changed.
We set up a small stage in a rehearsal hall and Dark Smith set up their amplifiers and drums. Donna, Desi, and I waited for them to get started. The rest of the family, including Rachel who wheeled in this morning, were all supporting Cindy since she felt like she was in over her head. It looked like the band was all set and were waiting for some cue. I started to tell them they could start when Donna nudged me.
“Wait. I think they are preparing for something.” I glanced up at the clock and saw it was two minutes until ten. I could appreciate needing some extra time to start a rock and roll concert at ten o’clock in the morning. I wondered if they were waiting for drugs to kick in. After all… sex, drugs, and rock and roll.
“Good morning, Tanglewood!” The sound burst through the amplifiers and rocked us back. It was exactly ten o’clock. I watched the second hand on the analog clock tick off five seconds of silence. Then, “We’re Dark Smith and we’re ready to rock!” The drummer crashed in and began an easy beat. “Are you ready?” Five more seconds elapsed. “Let’s roll!” And with that the group was off with a program of really good rock. It had a bit of an edge to it but didn’t go over to the dark side as I was afraid it would be with their name. I knew from talking to them yesterday, their material was all original and I half expected every song to sound the same. That was the most common problem I heard with the newer rock and roll. Once you’d heard one song from a group, you’d heard them all. But Dark Smith had a good variety of rumble and soothe. I was definitely tapping my feet and thinking about dancing.
Then it crashed to silence. I looked up and saw all four band members filing off the little stage and out the back door of the rehearsal room.
“Um… Is that it?” I asked Donna and Desi.
“I think it’s intermission,” Donna said.
“Wow! Abrupt,” Desi said. “What are we supposed to do?”
“My interpretation so far is that we should be sitting in our seats in exactly fifteen minutes,” Donna said.
Her prediction proved true. The band had changed clothes and filed back onstage. Exactly fifteen minutes after they left the stage, the drummer took them off on another tune that sounded like it could have come right after the last one they played without having any break. As carefully timed as things seemed to be, I was surprised to hear a few ad libs shooting back and forth between the band members. Maybe they’d just needed to get loosened up with the first set.
“We’re Dark Smith and we love playing for you. Thanks for being such a great audience and drive carefully getting home tonight. We’re going to send you on your way with this little prayer.” The band launched into their final number, surprisingly an up tempo piece with the theme of ‘waiting for you at home.’ They ended the song, raised their instruments in the air, took one deep bow, and left the stage. It was just past noon.
“Nice work,” I said when we met the band in the cafeteria. “You’ve got some great music. You must have a ton of fans. I know it’s weird playing to just three people. How long do your shows go with fan interaction?”
The three guys in the group were intent on their soup and didn’t look up at me. Lead guitar, bass guitar, and drums. The female lead singer and rhythm guitarist was deferred to in everything. She was Dark Smith. Literally. It wasn’t the group’s name; it was her name. She looked puzzled.
“An hour and forty-eight minutes. Plus a fifteen-minute intermission. We walk onstage at eight o’clock and walk off at ten-o-three.”
“The audience always plays a part. If they’re really into one of your numbers do you extend it? What about encores?”
“We don’t do that,” Dark said. I was puzzled. I’d never even heard of a popular band that didn’t feed off the energy of the crowd. Even Cindy and I changed things up based on audience response.
“You play exactly the same program with exactly the same timing every time? No variance?”
“Exactly. We rehearse it just like we did today and we nail it perfectly every time. If you buy a CD, you don’t expect it to change every time you play it.”
“Wow. Um… What about your messaging? You are supposed to say something about the service during your program,” I said.
“Miss Evans said you’d write a five-minute speech for me. I’ll memorize it and insert it after the first piece of the second act. It will change our total time to 2:08. Don’t worry. I’m really good at memorizing. It will be exactly what you write every time.”
“Rachel said I’d write your speech?” I glanced at Donna. Dark was nodding. One of the guys looked up for the first time and cast a sidelong glance at Dark.
“She said you’d work with us on creating our message,” he said softly.
“Yeah,” Dark agreed as if that was what she’d said.
“How often do you introduce new material into your sets?” Desi asked. “Nothing you played had the feeling of being old. You wrote all that music?”
“Drake writes the music,” Dark said, pointing at the drummer. “We change the program every six months. This is our third program since we started touring a year ago. It’s all brand new but we nailed it.”
“How long have you been together as a group?” Donna asked.
“Ten years.”
These four had been playing together for ten years? Since they were eight? I knew Cindy started playing when she was about that age. But to hold together a group like that? Pretty amazing.
“We did covers until Drake had a full program written. Then we switched to all original,” Drew said. He was the lead guitarist and was the only one of the males who ever spoke. Dave, the bass guitarist, looked like he was in his own world and not interacting with the others at all. What a strange dynamic.
“What great guys,” Cindy giggled. “We jammed all day. They are so laid back. I could tour with them.” She giggled again. I looked over at Nanette and my eldest wife rolled her eyes. Cindy was in charge of mentoring the jazz trio. Apparently, they were nowhere near as rigid as the rock band. Bass, keyboard, and drums, they mostly did jazz improv and vocalese. I remembered their audition and they were exactly the kind of group V1 would have expected in a jazz club in Kansas City in the seventies. Cindy giggled again and attempted to put her tongue down Donna’s throat.
“How’s their messaging?” I asked. “Someone told Dark Smith I’d write their speech for them.”
“That’s not what I said!” Rachel said.
“No. That’s what they heard,” I laughed. “We’ll work it out. But how much work do we need to do on Tips Are Welcome? Are they really going out with that name?”
“I think it’s cute,” Cindy said, switching her focus to Remas. Another kiss-fest. “Oh. They’ll just toss in bits as they play. Sometimes it will break out of a scat tune and suddenly you hear words that make sense and tell you National Service is coolio.” She giggled again.
“Cindy? Are you high?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never been high before,” she laughed. “Am I high, Emily?”
“Yeah, you’ve been high since that first cupcake this morning.”
“Is that why my pussy wants someone to lick it?”
“I don’t know if being high affects that,” Em laughed. “Doesn’t your pussy always want someone to lick it?”
“Oh, yeah. It does. Want to?”
“I think the meeting’s over,” Rachel said. Emily took Cindy’s hand and led her to the stairs. Remas was right behind them. Nanette bit her lip and watched them go. Then she jumped up and followed.
That quartet could be up all night.
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