Chapter 162

“Bring hope to a hopeless world and help young heroes arise.”
—Phillip Wayne Wright, The Breedite Invasion: Book One: Origins

THE HOT REDHEAD I was with drew stares and wolf whistles. Not at the airport, but when she walked through the door at Donna’s farmhouse. My pod mates were all over Rachel.

“You look so hot!” Desi exclaimed.

“Do they teach you to look like that in service?” Beca asked. “I think I’m ready to enlist.”

“Do you look as yummy without clothes as with?” Em asked.

“Why don’t you come and find out, lover,” Rachel laughed. “I’ve been waiting for someone to volunteer to get me out of them.” Rachel’s weren’t the only clothes that fell off. In ten minutes, everyone in the house was naked. And as soon as we were, we all took a moment to kiss the tattoo on her butt. “Ooh! I just get home and already everyone is kissing my ass,” she howled. I nipped it a little and she jumped.

“Hey! This is new,” Nanette said. She was pointing at Rachel’s neatly trimmed and partly shaved bush. “I thought we were going to stay the wild and untamed pair.”

“Oh, God! You guys! I want to sit and cuddle with everyone.” All ten of us managed to cram ourselves under, beside, and on top of Rachel. Cindy was the cherry on top, sitting on Rachel’s lap. “Honey, your virginity might not be safe sitting where you are,” Rachel sighed. “I’ll try to behave.”

“But you don’t have, like, a...”

“I have fingers and a tongue.”

“Oh!” Cindy squeaked. She didn’t move though. Rachel just held her and cuddled.

“So, when did you decide to tame the jungle?” Nanette asked. “Even Livy was trimmed in a bikini cut.”

“I joined a club a few weeks ago. One of the girls in the dorm was complaining about her pubes itching and that her boyfriend wasn’t there to shave her. I’d shaved Britt and Desi and Sophie a few times and I just spontaneously said, ‘Oh, I can do that, if you want.’ She wanted and, in a few minutes, she was spread in front of me while I applied shaving cream to her mound and lips and started shaving her. She liked it all bare and I was sort of stroking her labia to make sure there was no stubble when she said, ‘My boyfriend always tested it with his tongue.’ I think she’d set the whole thing up and I fell for it face first into her pussy. When she’d been satisfied, she stroked my cheek and said, ‘Next week, we’ll do you.’ I thought she meant she’d do me and I was okay with that.”

“What happened?” I asked.

“It turned out there were half a dozen in the shaving club and they rotated what week they got shaved and who shaved them. I wanted to keep most of my bush but I figured no one would mind if I cleaned up the tonguing area. I got trimmed, shaved, and tongued that night. The next week, I was on shaving duty. The following week I got shaved again. Every other week getting a tongue bath and every other week giving one. Basic was just long enough to have a give or receive session with each of the six of us.”

“Before we start eating each other, would you like some food?” Donna asked. “We’re all here for the weekend so we don’t need to rush things.”

We started getting up and arranging ourselves for dinner. Before Cindy let Rachel get off my lap, she leaned in close to whisper in her ear. Our heads were right together so I could hear everything Cindy said.

“Rachel, later this weekend, would you trim and shave me? I’ve never done it before.”

She left both Rachel and me wondering if she meant shaved or something else.

Rachel didn’t pull a train on all the rest of us but we settled into some nice long loving. She slept with Beca and me Friday night and when I got back from my Saturday run, she was sandwiched between Sophie and Desi.

Donna had the tractor out, having decided the driving range needed mowing one more time. Nanette headed for the house while I swung up beside Donna on the tractor to ride along. It wasn’t conducive to either making out or conversation, but I rode with her companionably for an hour and a half and shared her joy in making the field into an extended yard for the back of her house. We cleaned up the equipment and put it away before we held hands to walk up to the house and get a shower. We found Nanette, Brittany, and Rachel just getting out of the shower.

“I’d just stay in here with you, but these girls didn’t let me get breakfast before they attacked me. There was nothing I could do until I’d satisfied their lustful bodies,” Rachel giggled.

“I’ve never been so satisfied,” Nanette said. “I think she set out to fuck us into oblivion. What do you think, Britt?”

“Huh?” Brittany was still not coherent.

Donna put down her phone and walked into the sun room where Desi, Cindy, and I were practicing. The rest of the pod had books spread out or were at the table with open laptops. “We have a venue,” she announced. “That was Remas on the phone. Dr. Donahue has confirmed that we can record on Thursday with rehearsals Tuesday and Wednesday. She has a crew for us and we can live stream Thursday evening. That will mean two performances as it will be a pretty big live audience.”

“How big?” Cindy asked. I caught a hint of nervousness in her voice. Our entire first year working together I’d never detected that. She was used to performing for audiences.

“Three hundred fifty seats,” Donna said. “Maybe less, depending on the configuration we select.”

“Different configurations?”

“It’s an experimental theatre at a college in Arlington,” Donna said.

“That’s convenient,” Rachel smirked.

“Why?” I asked.

“Oh, because I’ve been assigned to the Arlington NSO Training Center for instruction in political procedure and management,” she said. “We can travel together.”

12 September 2021

We haven’t made a commitment to either the National School of the Arts or to the National Service, but it has become apparent that we are being manipulated as though we were already there. The first sign is that Rachel is being sent to DC for training and likely assignment. Instruction in political procedure and management could mean her service position will be a general go-fer or page or she could be assigned to manage an office. Either way, she’s just become an enticement for us to move to DC next summer.

We have two two-bedroom apartments reserved at a third what it cost us to stay in a hotel across the river when we were there in July. We won’t be renting a bus this time either as the school is providing transportation when needed. Joan says we’re set with the announcement that we’ll live stream on Thursday and people are already signing up. Questions have already started coming in regarding whether Washington, DC has become our permanent home and whether we will ever be performing in other parts of the country.

We were still discussing the comments when we heard the unmistakable sound of Cindy’s orgasm coming from the bathroom upstairs. Rachel wasn’t in the room with us. I had a feeling Cindy had been shaved, trimmed, and tongued. That was probably her first orgasm at the hands, or mouth, of another person.

So, tomorrow morning, we’ll all head to the airport for a flight to DC. Our moms have elected not to join us on this trip. They don’t want us making commitments yet and if they aren’t there to agree, we can’t sign anything. Tricky.

Flying with large musical instruments is a difficult process. Cindy packed all her flutes in a carry-on bag and stowed them overhead. I had to buy a seat for my viol and guitar. Fortunately, they could both sit in one seat. The airline tried to insist they needed two seats. Unfortunately, they had to have an aisle seat because the neck of the viol stuck up too far to fit under the luggage bins. That gave Rachel and me the window and center seat. And a little barrier between us and the rest of the passengers.

Parents really came in handy for the trip, though. Rachel’s mom, my mom, Cindy’s mom, and Desi’s mom managed to drive all ten of us and my instruments to Indianapolis in time to catch the 11:15 flight Monday morning. Mom, bless her heart, drove my truck with all our luggage packed in the back. And everyone packed light. Honest. But there were still bags that would be checked.

We arrived at Ronald Reagan Washington National Airport at one and collected our bags. That’s where the sadness started. Rachel shouldered her duffle, still all she was allowed to carry, though she’d picked up her laptop when she visited her parents, and met a shuttle that departed every hour for Arlington NSO Training Center. We’d see if there was a chance we’d meet again before we left. There were a lot of hugs and kisses and tears before she boarded the bus. Even at that, I think there were a lot of people catching the shuttle who looked at her with envy because they’d already left their loved ones behind.

Her shuttle scarcely left the curb when a bus marked National School of the Arts pulled up in front of us. Remas jumped off the bus to greet us. She got a warm hug and the driver directed us in stowing our luggage for what turned out to be a fairly short trip to our apartments. I noticed there was already a suitcase in the compartment and when I boarded the bus, I spotted Remas’s cello strapped in a seat.

“Staying with us the week?” I asked when she boarded.

“I can go back to my place if you don’t want me around,” she said. “But since I’ll be with you pretty much all week to rehearse and perform, I thought it would be expedient.”

“Sure. It’s two two-bedroom apartments and there’s only nine of us, so I’m sure there will be one empty for you,” I said. My joke fell flat. Remas looked up at me with a tear already forming in her eye. “I’m kidding, Remas!” I grabbed hold of her and hugged her tightly.