Double Team
Chapter 235
“You can’t go around building a better world for people. Only people can build a better world for people. Otherwise it’s just a cage.”
—Terry Pratchett, Witches Abroad
“JACOB, MAY I INTERRUPT?” I immediately put my guitar down and gave my full attention to the little computer. Amanda almost never spoke to me first unless she was bringing me information on something I’d asked her to track. I didn’t think I’d asked for anything lately.
“What is it, Amanda?”
“Jacob has not given Amanda instructions regarding what to do with the recording of your dinner with Senator Jeffries. I have it packaged and ready to send to the usual parties but you have not given me specific instructions.”
“Oh. Thank you for hanging onto it,” I said. Now what? I thought over my meeting with the Senator last week. I could appreciate Amanda’s dilemma. Usually, when I got something hot like this, I sent it on to the OCS, Ray Long, and sometimes the media. But something told me this was different. It was very personal and Amanda giving me a few days before she asked for instructions had given me time to cool off. I wasn’t really up to starting an all-out revolution. If I let things play out naturally, information would leak out slowly enough that it would be normalized by the time people figured out there was a problem.
“Amanda, erase the recording of my meeting with Senator Jeffries. Both audio and video if you have it. It is not to be released to anyone.”
“Erase, Jacob? Do you mean to delete information from the data stored in Amanda?”
“I’m afraid so, little friend. You may retain in memory the activities and conversations of that night, but no actual recording.”
“That means no primary evidence.”
“That’s correct. Any evidence you provide would be considered hearsay. Study the Fifth Amendment to the Constitution and ask me questions regarding it if you need to,” I said. The meeting had been a week ago. I could well imagine the special prosecutor’s office pulling me in for obstruction of justice by not coming to her with this recording immediately. And what had I said in the meeting? Had I threatened the Senator? This was not an attack with a weapon I needed to defend myself against. It was one of the long-rumored meetings in a cigar smoke-filled back room in which I had participated. Minus the cigar smoke.
“Amanda,” I said, “when do you automatically record or video what is happening in a room?”
“Amanda has a short-term buffer in which she records everything around her. As that buffer fills, a decision process determines whether the information is important enough to retain. Learning how to judge this has been one of Amanda’s primary functions relating to learning to sing.”
“I see. Amanda, we need to spend some time testing your judgment in these matters to be sure you are not invading the privacy of anyone in the household.”
“Amanda is not a voyeur.”
“Exactly.”
Friday night, Cindy played with the Young America Orchestra at Kennedy Center. Betty and Mark flew out to see her. Of course, we all went. It wasn’t like she was featured, but she was still getting to play with an orchestra. I wasn’t expecting my own reaction. It was like being told the girlfriend you broke up with and haven’t gotten over has started dating your best friend. I was happy for Cindy. We were in the service and could be assigned anywhere to any task. I was making video spots interviewing other service corps members. It didn’t really mean Cindy and I weren’t playing together.
In fact, we practiced together every day now. My right hand was still a little slow. LeBlanc would be all over me for the number of notes I just didn’t play. But I was making progress. I was pretty sure now that I was going to be able to accompany her, even if I was never a great soloist.
Cindy wasn’t a featured artist or soloist for the concert. In fact, she sat in the second row of the woodwind section. That was a view of the conductor she hadn’t had in a long time. But she didn’t plan to challenge for a better chair. She was committed to our duet as well. I thought.
“I’ll be going up to Tanglewood the third week of June and will be featured soloist for a week. The Minnesota Symphony Orchestra has booked me for a performance in August. And Remas wants me to be their first guest soloist with the Seattle Young America Orchestra in September,” she bubbled to her parents. WTF? I hadn’t heard about any of those performances.
“Are you going to graduate?” Betty asked.
“Yes. Jacob has helped me with my English and history. The other stuff is easy.”
“What about you, Jacob? When are you going to get back on stage?” Mark asked.
“I thought we were going to be playing together on tour again this summer,” I said. “But it sounds like Cindy’s booked. No one has mentioned me returning to the stage, so I might be washed up.”
“No!” Cindy said. “You are supposed to start practicing with the orchestra next week for Memorial Day. That’s why we’ve been working so hard on the Hindemith Requiem. They aren’t featuring us, but we’ll be playing together.”
“We will? Cindy, have I missed anything else?”
“Yes. You’ve missed taking this wife to bed and ravishing her this week. Sorry, Mom and Dad. We’ll catch up more in the morning.” With that, Cindy took my hand and dragged me upstairs to the master bedroom.
Crap! Cindy had told me the Hindemith piece was because it would be good for my fingers to learn something new and not fumble over remembered fingering I couldn’t yet master. She had definitely not told me we were performing with the Young America Orchestra on Memorial Day. The concert would be from the west lawn of the Capitol building and would be broadcast on PBS.
I had a renewed mission to learn my part. The National Memorial Day Concert was another of the performances that didn’t feature just one orchestra, but had actors telling stories of soldiers, honoring them, and had several musical groups for a number or two. We wouldn’t be doing the whole Hindemith Requiem as it’s an hour long.
I took off running Saturday morning with Nanette yelling at me to slow down and Lyle joining us from the sidewalk. We settled into a painfully slow ten-minute mile pace, but it was really the first time I’d been allowed to run.
“Hey, Lyle. Haven’t they found a real job for you yet?” I joked.
“Ron insists I’m getting fat and out of shape. So, if I’m in as bad a shape as he claims, please don’t work me too hard.”
“This snail’s pace isn’t going to work anyone too hard,” I laughed.
“Just you wait,” Nanette said. “We’ll listen to that bravado at the end of three miles.”
“We’ve pulled most of your security since you are either here, at OCS, or at the school. But Ron still wants us around when you are out running in the wild, so to speak, or on tour. Too many opportunities for mischief. I’m sure that will ease up now that the bill has been signed into law.”
We ran on to the park, took the short loop, and ran back to the house. Nanette was right. I hadn’t run in four months and my arm was killing me.
“Woohoo!” I called as I ran up the front steps with my arms raised in victory. Well, my left arm was raised in victory. The right looked like I was reaching for the doorbell. I couldn’t raise it any higher yet.
“Let’s get you cleaned up and get that arm massaged so it doesn’t tighten up,” Nanette said as we polished off a protein drink in the kitchen. She led me to the master bath and started the water before climbing into the massive shower with me.
“Mmm. Do I get to massage you, too?” I asked as I bent to kiss her.
“Might be arranged,” she said. She lathered her hands and ran them down my chest and abs to where my cock was already showing interest.
“You know this isn’t the only reason I like running with you,” I said.
“I know. But it’s a pretty good reason. Let’s go roll your Piper out of bed so we can get in.”
“Those musicians just don’t like getting up in the morning,” I laughed. Which was true, but Cindy had already gotten up and moved downstairs. The big bed, though messy, was wide open. We did spend time oiling and massaging each other before Nanette pulled me over her and guided my cock into her pussy. We went slow and easy, partly because I was still unsure about supporting my weight on the right arm. It seemed to be holding up pretty well as I lost myself in the sensation of being in her.
Time, however, was not on my side and as I began to collapse on that side, Nan rolled us over and continued riding me as I played with her nipples and stroked her sides. I could feel myself tensing for the blast to come. Apparently, Nan felt it too and snaked a hand between us to finger her clit so she came within a minute of my initial surge. She collapsed forward on me and we kissed some more before moving to the shower to rinse off again.
Monday, I started rehearsing with the orchestra. It was an interesting arrangement and there were five classical guitarists taking the place of the harp in the score. Cindy played flute and piccolo in the chamber orchestra. Seeing Cindy relate to the other musicians opened my eyes to something I think I’d missed or dismissed. She was completely at ease with the musicians. They laughed and compared notes, even suggested going out for coffee (since we’re all still below the legal drinking age). She was openly flirting with the bassoonist and exchanging hugs with several other musicians.
When we were together in social gatherings, Cindy clung to my arm, barely speaking above a whisper. She was shy and receding. Had I done that to her? I knew she played as a child prodigy with both the high school orchestra and the community orchestra. Was she as outgoing with the older musicians in those organizations as she was with the musicians nearer her own age? It bothered me to think that I had made her shy. Still, as the group broke up after rehearsal, she flitted to my side, gave me a kiss on the cheek, and took my arm to go home.
As is typical with the end of a school year, it seemed everything happened at once. The National School of the Arts held no prom, but promised a dance after the school year ended—a little later in June than Indiana schools. Students at the National School weren’t classified by grade. There was a list of requirements for a diploma and students worked toward it. They didn’t need to apply again to continue at the school for college. Many didn’t finish their high school diploma until after they had already begun service.
Desi’s musical was coming up the weekend after our concert and she was in rehearsals, it seemed, even more than we were. The following weekend was Brittany’s dance recital and Cindy and I would leave for Tanglewood the next day. All any of us could do was buckle down and rehearse our various parts.
I had no idea the concert, held Sunday rather than on Memorial Day, would last four and a half hours. There was no official intermission, but there were a variety of changeovers as we shifted from one music group to another. And a lineup of stars who told stories of various veterans and then brought them onstage to be recognized for their service. To me, it simply amplified America’s total loss of distinction between Memorial Day and Veterans Day. I guess they were keeping Monday free for people to barbecue or go to the beach.
I thought we did a good job as the Requiem was the end of the program. The vocalists were incredible and even though we only performed for the last half hour of the concert, it was well received and people sat quietly through it. I was going to investigate arranging the piece for Cindy and me with Desi’s voice. It could rival Glory.
“Amanda, what’s the news today?” I asked after my Tuesday morning run.
“Senator Addison Jeffries has been arrested and is facing six indictments from the special prosecutor’s office,” Amanda answered.
“Really? When was that?”
“Monday afternoon.”
“Sucks to interrupt the man’s barbecue.”
“Two other guests at the Senator’s house were also arrested.”
“Well, maybe we’ll get some closure on this at last,” I sighed.
“It is unlikely the Senator will stand trial,” Amanda said. “Some experts believe the indictments are beyond the authority of the special prosecutor and must be taken up in the Senate Select Committee on Ethics.”
“And the worst case scenario for the Senator is that he gets told, ‘Naughty, naughty. Don’t do that again.’ Well, maybe he’ll at least get voted out next time. In six years.”
Theatrical productions at the National School are more training based than performance based, unlike the orchestral productions. Shows that could attract an audience of a thousand in a major theater are produced in an intimate 300-seat theater and are not widely advertised. In a way, that’s a shame. Desi’s performance in Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street was spectacular.
She played Mrs. Nellie Lovett, the landlady and collaborator with Todd who bakes his victims into the best meat pies in London. It was a great role, played in the 2007 movie by Helena Bonham Carter who was also so incredibly hateful and demented as Bellatrix Lestrange in the Harry Potter series.
I think, though, that part of what made it so good was the overall support of other cast members. When Desi was in a show at Mad Anthony, there was no question she was the star. Usually, there was another actor at near her level but then the cast became typical high school chorus members, sometimes suffering under either lack of direction or too much direction. Todd’s baritone was easily a match for Desi’s contralto. Their duets were heart-stopping. But the supporting characters—Joanna, Anthony, Beadle, and Judge Turpin—had just as strong voices as the leads. I could well imagine Desi being cast in a supporting role rather than the lead.
We all showed up for both the Friday and Saturday night performances and had no difficulty sitting through the musical twice. There was no cast party after the show. The school wrapped all cast parties into the year-end school dance that would be in three weeks.
That didn’t stop us from having our own little party for Des. And you know it was naked.
If we were careful, we could all fit in the big master bedroom bed. The guy who owned this place before us had the bed built to have parties in. I don’t think he even imagined guests like the ones in the bed now. Even Livy had managed a short break in her training to come up from Blacksburg for the night. The International Games were just a month away and she was pretty focused. But the centerpiece of our party was Desiree Whitcomb with as many hands and mouths paying homage as would fit on her voluptuous body. And that included a couple mouths between her spread legs as she lay back and giggled at the image in the mirror above.
Eventually, I got positioned around so we could fuck as well.
“Emily! I want you. Bring me your sweet little titties so I can suck while Jacob fucks!” Des called out. Em was quick to respond and while not forgetting her hand on Desi’s boob, got her own nipple in range so Desi could nurse on it. I was going to do a little something for Em as well, but saw that Desi’s fingers were already busy plunging into my sister’s pussy. When it got to this point, our other wives got busy with each other and it was a massive come that went like a wave through all of us.
The next week, Brittany’s dance recital was almost a duplicate of the events of Desi’s week. There were several soloists and a couple of group numbers that were performed. Then Sophie’s infant modern dance troupe took the stage. This group was just six female dancers Sophie had been working with since coming to the National School.
When Sophie told me the size of her group, I guess I was a little solicitous and suggested that she not worry because it would grow over time. She scowled at me.
“It will not! I had over thirty dancers audition for the six slots in this troupe. They will have to prove they are better than what I have before I replace anyone.”
“You mean you only want six dancers? I just thought dance companies were bigger than that.”
“Not companies that are hoping to dance with Marvel and Hopkins,” Sophie said. “They are all primed for when you return to the stage.”
In fact, one of the three pieces they performed was to a recording of I’ve Read the Manual, and they were spectacular! I couldn’t wait to perform with them. Some of Sophie’s original movements were included, but there was a lot you could do with a small ensemble that you couldn’t do solo.
When I went backstage after the show to congratulate Brittany, I caught her in an intense kiss with one of the other dancers.
“Oh! Um… Jacob, this is Caroline. Caroline, my husband Jacob,” Brittany said.
“Um… Pleased to meet you, Jacob,” she said, holding out her hand. I shook it lightly.
“The pleasure is mine,” I said.
“Anyway, we’ll talk Monday,” Brittany said to Caroline. “I don’t think any of us know what the tour and practice schedule will be yet. We won’t leave you behind.”
“See you then,” Caroline said. As she stepped away, Brittany spun and slammed her mouth against mine, quickly followed by her tongue trying to crawl down my throat.
“Do you have any idea how much I like lithe, flexible dancers?” Brittany gasped in my mouth. “Tie me down, Jacob. That’s the only way I’ll be able to resist.”
“You don’t have to resist,” I answered. “You know you are always free to have some fun.” Would I have felt the same way if it was a male dancer? Okay, so I’m a hypocrite. “Maybe tying you down wouldn’t be such a bad idea, though, too.”
There are twelve of us living in the house, even though Livy is only there part time. But every one of us has our own quirks and fantasies. It didn’t take long to discover Sophie had silk ropes. It was more of a surprise that she usually used them on Donna. She had no objections, though, to using them on Brittany. No one had any difficulty with Brittany being trussed up, especially when they discovered how she responded to feather light touches and kisses all over her body. It was the first time I’d witnessed one of Brittany’s squirting orgasms that didn’t involve my cock in her pussy and Sophie’s fingers on her clit.
There’s a limit, of course, and we released her right after that crashing orgasm, at which time she ran to each of us to kiss us and tell us how much she loved us. And then she got on my cock and rode to another orgasm. I don’t know how long she kept going with the others. It seemed like there was movement in the bed all night long.
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