Chapter 1: Let Us Pray

February 19, 1973: Love

I THOUGHT I was a pretty worldly guy. I thought I had things pretty well figured out in life. I had a business in Chicago and one in Ontario. I’d been traveling all over the world as part of my job and had a few different lovers. Of course, none of them compared to the three wonderful women who shared my home and my bed. We are a family.

Ronda and I have been together since February of 1967—six years! We had shared a girlfriend in high school, but when Chris graduated, she left us both. Ronda stayed with me and has never left my side. Oh, we’ve been apart, but Ronda is committed. She transferred from Boston University to the University of Chicago her sophomore year to live with me while she did her undergraduate work in International Relations. She probably could have gotten a much better job than being my coordinator, but she wanted to stay with me. I love her to the moon and back. She’s a rock and has seen me through a ton of shit.

Anna was my very first girlfriend when I moved to Tenbrook in 1966. My mom had become the Methodist minister there and we moved out of South Chicago so she could start work. Talk about culture shock. Tenbrook had about one percent the population that South Chicago had. But the very first day of school, I sat next to this incredibly cute girl in speech class and asked her out on a date. We were together for a few months, but she got scared of how fast we were moving—we hadn’t even kissed yet—and broke up with me. We kept working together on the school yearbook, though. By summer, she had officially become my accountant and bookkeeper. And by the next summer, we were lovers. She has more business sense than anyone I’ve ever met. And she manages the family just as efficiently.

Then there’s dear sweet Patricia. When I first met her in Tenbrook, she was riding the back of a motorcycle behind Tony, the leader of the local ‘biker gang.’ He had a tough reputation, but through one thing and another, we became best friends. One of those things was Patricia. She got me to take pictures of her pretending she was a Playboy bunny for her boyfriend. He loved them and kept sending her back for more pictures. When he was drafted, my mom married them. Patricia continued to come into my little studio every week to get new pictures to send to Tony. And sometimes to cry because she was so lost without him.

After Tony was killed in Vietnam, she spent even more time with Ronda, Anna, Chris, and me. When she found out she was pregnant, she sought comfort in my arms and we became lovers. I would do anything to protect her and our little girl Toni. Toni has called me Daddy for years and that’s what I am to her. We always remind her that her father is buried in Tenbrook and was a very brave man who saved my brother-in-law’s life. But I’m still Daddy.

The important thing is that we are a family. I mean Patricia, Ronda, Anna, Toni, and me. We live together. We bought a house in Ontario, just in case I needed to run from being drafted. It included an antique store and my Canadian studio.

But I never knew the instant bonding, the complete and unconditional love, that overwhelmed me when the nurse put my own little girl in my arms for the first time. I cried as I held her and took her to her mother. Then we both cried.

I believe we have a soul. I never really found evidence of it in the Bible. And no sermon ever convinced me. No. I believe I have a soul because I felt it leave my body and wrap itself around my baby daughter that day. I was more firmly attached to her than to any human being on earth. Even when I was in a different room, or in my studio, I could close my eyes and feel my daughter in my arms. To protect. To nurture. To Love.

As usual, I’ve tossed you into the middle of things without explaining how I got to this point. There were some pretty tense and emotional times involved and I’m thankful to be here.

May 18, 1972: When it all began

Nate Hart:

Congratulations on your graduation from college. Your selective service records have been returned to your local board and we have granted your request to be re-assigned to status I-O, a conscientious objector, not eligible for military service of any kind.

As all conscientious objectors are required to serve 24 months of alternative service, you are hereby directed to report to the Induction Center at 615 West Van Buren, Chicago, IL on September 1, 1972 by 3:00 p.m. to take your oath and begin your service. You will be instructed as to where you will serve upon arrival.

Have a good summer,

J. Henry Osgood

Chairman of the Hunter County Selective Service Board.

I tossed the letter on the table and sat with my head in my hands. My girlfriends quickly snatched it up and read what it had to say.

“They can’t do that!” Patricia screamed. Toni came running from the playroom to see what was wrong with her mother. Patricia scooped the three-year-old up in her arms. “It’s okay, honey,” Patricia said softly. “Mommy just got a scare. I was surprised.”

Toni petted Patricia’s face.

“Don’t scare Mommy!” she said, glaring at the rest of us.

“As I was saying, in a more controlled tone,” Patricia continued, “I checked with Miss Ludwig, who is still tracking all the call-ups from Hunter County. They filled their quota from your year at lottery number 187. You are 233. Send this to Mr. Graves and have him appeal it. You know they’re just baiting you.”

“Yes, I know,” I said. “I’ve already agreed to go to work for the government. I don’t know what else they want. I need to think about this. There’s a reason they’ve decided to send me this letter and then give me three months to think about it. I’m sure they don’t intend to draft me. I really need to think about this before I do anything. They’ve given me plenty of time. I need to think.”

Repeating it so often was making it obvious that I wasn’t thinking. Ronda and Anna both gave me a hug and Anna went to finish packing. Patricia hugged me and Toni immediately transferred from her mother to me.

“Dance, Daddy?”

“Sure, pumpkin. Let’s find some good music. Have I taught you to foxtrot?”

“No-o-o. Do we have a fox?”

“It’s a dance, honey. Come on, I’ll show you.”

On Saturday I photocopied the letter from the draft board and mailed it to my attorney as an FYI, explaining that I’d be out of town and unavailable for two weeks.

I had one last appointment before Anna and I took off for Stratford. It seemed like the last thing I did before I left my studio for a season was always to take pictures of Sandra. She’d been coming to me for four years to have photos taken of her physical development as a young woman. It had been an informative time for both of us.

“Nate! It’s good to see you again!”

“Hello, Sandra. Hope the rest of your freshman year has been uneventful.”

“Yeah. I think we both had all the excitement we needed a couple of months ago.”

A couple of months ago, Clyde Warren, who had once been the Tenbrook constable and then got a job screwing minority draftees at the Hunter County Selective Service Board, had decided to run for County Sheriff on a platform of moral decency. He’d managed to get charges pressed against Dr. May and the librarian, Edna Ludwig, for corrupting young women with information about sex and contraceptives. That, fortunately, went nowhere. Then he started making veiled allusions to Tenbrook shielding a child pornographer—me. I managed to quash that rumor and Warren lost the election. It was disturbing, though, that there were actually people who voted for him. Sandra had worked to be sure I was shielded from any accusations that I’d used her for child pornography.

“I just wish it was over,” I sighed.

“Don’t tell me! What now?”

“The draft board decided I should finally be reclassified as I-O and has called me up to do alternative service. I’m supposed to start in September.”

“Oh, Nate! I’m sorry. It’s all retaliation for the whole thing with Warren, isn’t it?”

“I’m sure it is, but I’m not sure yet what to do about it. We’ll have to see how it plays out.”

“Would undressing me and posing me, and ... um ... caressing me brighten your day?” she asked.

“Sandra, you know I always love to do your photos. I’m surprised, though, that you don’t want me to just set up the camera so you can do them yourself.”

“You know I want you to do it. And I hope you can take the time to pose me for some real Attic Allure photos. I think you only have one of me on display.”

“Hmm. We’ll have to find some more ideas after you’ve finished your developmental photos. How much longer do you think you want to have these taken?” I asked as I started undressing Sandra. She always preferred me to take her clothes off of her, with accompanying kisses and caresses.

“I’ve been conducting a lot of interviews this term as part of my coursework. I’m sure the most dramatic changes in my body occurred during my adolescence and high school years. But I’ve really discovered a lot about college years through my interviews of seniors. I had them bring photos of themselves as freshmen and just before graduation. Then they told me about how they’d changed in college. The upshot is that there are a lot of less obvious changes that occur during these years, so I’d like to keep recording my own changes—say once every six months or so—throughout my college years.”

“Well, we might have difficulty arranging times in the next couple of years, but I’ll try to be available. Now let’s get you into position in front of the drop so I can take your pictures and not just stand here feeling you up.”

“You know I love to have you feel me up. I wonder sometimes if I’m sexually repressed since I have yet to find a guy I’d like to feel me up more than you. I’ve dated a few times this year, but none of them do anything for me.”

“Maybe you need a girl,” I laughed as I took the first of her series of developmental photos.

“I’ve thought of that, but I haven’t met a girl who rings my chimes yet, either. You know, anytime you want to put an end to my virginity, I’d welcome you in.”

“Please don’t tempt me when I’m weak. It looks like your hair is getting darker.”

“Nice of you to finally notice.”

“Sandra, when you start off completely naked, it takes me a while to work my way up to noticing your hair,” I said. We moved the fainting couch in front of the backdrop and I spread a white sheet on it. Sandra posed with her legs spread wide so I could position the camera and look straight up her vagina. That made it even harder to notice her hair.

“I’ve been gradually tinting my hair darker all year. I’m not trying to attract a boy and blonde hair definitely affects how seriously my research is taken. You wouldn’t believe the number of interviews I had last fall that were people saying, ‘Isn’t she cute. We’ll humor her.’ By fall, I should be a genuine brunette and I’ll get taken more seriously. I’ve written pages and pages in my developmental journal about it.”

“I take you seriously,” I said as I snapped the first picture of her vulva. I moved closer and took a second.

“See anything down there you’d like to get closer to?” she giggled.

“Oh, yes. Um ... Let’s get you into something for an Attic Allure photo,” I said.

“You don’t want me naked anymore?”

“I certainly don’t want you naked any less,” I laughed. “But I have an idea I’d like to try out. I think I’ll take this idea to Stratford with me and see if I can get some interesting photos there. Besides, with your breasts exposed, I don’t think people realize how beautiful your legs are.”

“Oh, that’s sweet.”

I managed to get a light box set up that she could stand on with lights of different colors shining upward. Then I found a dress with the kind of lightweight flowing material for a skirt that I love. The top was nicely form-fitting. I carefully tucked all Sandra’s bits into it and did a little soft kissing as well. Then I got the fan out and started it blowing upward. With Sandra standing on the lightbox and the fan blowing, her skirts flew up. I had her hold them down in a parody of a Marilyn Monroe pose I’d once seen. Only instead of just air, it looked like the light was blowing her skirts and cast her face into shadow.

After I got the photos, I swept Sandra up and carried her behind the privacy screen where I undressed her again, caressing and kissing her. We went into the darkroom where I processed her photos and we were soon both naked. It was such a temptation to plant her on my cock and fuck her. It was not going to happen, though we each made sure the other had a satisfactory climax.

I got her dressed and gave her the session’s developmental photos and negatives. Then I kissed her again and she left. I spent the next hour carting the last few items I wanted with me to the microbus, so it would be ready for Anna and me in the morning.

I made love to each of my wives, paying special attention to Patricia and Ronda. Anna and I would be together for two weeks in Stratford. The last time just the two of us went to Stratford, she tried to see how many times we could possibly make love in a week. It turned out to be a lot.

Ronda still had three weeks of school left in her quarter, so Patricia and Toni were staying in Chicago with her. I loved the way we were able to attend to our various tasks and not leave anyone alone.

Sunday morning, Anna and I headed east to get to our summer home. Anna cuddled next to me while I was driving and I sat close to her while she drove. It’s a long day’s drive in the microbus, but we decided not to stop for the night in Windsor.

“So, think out loud for a while,” she said after we were about halfway across Michigan. “Something has you bothered enough that you don’t know what to do about that letter. What are your options?”

“Options. Hmm. I guess one option is to turn it all over to Lowell and explain that it’s ridiculous and ask him to fight it,” I said.

“That’s the obvious and what we expect. You’ve got a summer business and a nice job offer working for the government, and Mr. Martin has even said three months’ leave of absence in the summer for work in Canada could be arranged. Tell me about why you wouldn’t do that.”

I breathed a deep sigh. It was a good thing the engine was all the way in the back of the bus, or Anna wouldn’t have heard my answer.

“I’m a conscientious objector.”

“And that’s a reason not to fight it?”

“I’m pretty sure the draft board expects me to fight it,” I said. “And when I do, they’ll announce it to the world that I wasn’t concerned about my conscience at all, but was just another draft dodger and didn’t even want to fulfill my alternative service. My credibility would be shot with the people who have organized around what I had to say in Hunter County. It might even prejudice the case against Warren.”

“So, you think you should serve so the case can go forward?” Anna asked, a little puzzled.

“No. I think I should serve because I’m a conscientious objector. For four years, I’ve been fighting with the board to acknowledge my status and to clean up their act. They claim they cleaned it up by getting rid of Warren. But using the draft—even of a conscientious objector—to punish an individual who made a big deal out of it shows they haven’t cleaned up their act. I volunteered to serve alternative service when I graduated and put off going to college. I was completely willing to serve—just absolutely not in the military. Has that changed now? Am I somehow excused from my obligations?”

“Oh, gee, Nate. You really need to explain that to Ronda and Patricia. And to me again. I think that we believed like you say the draft board does—that becoming a conscientious objector was mostly a valid means to avoid the draft. But it’s way more than that to you. It’s like a commitment to your ideals. It paints it in a completely different light.”

“There are a lot of people who are suggesting a universal draft instead of a selective service. They say we should follow the Israeli or Swiss model of requiring everyone to serve two years, whether in the military or in alternative service. I don’t go that far. I don’t think we should have a government mandate over our heads. But I believe there should be alternative service recruiting stations, the same way they are recruiting people to serve in the Army or Air Force or Marines or Navy. And it should be an equal opportunity for both men and women. You know, my sister just wants to become a pilot. But do you think the Air Force is ever going to allow women to fly jets? While we were screwing around with Warren back in Huntertown this spring, the senate passed the Equal Rights Amendment and sent it to the states for ratification. It took three months for the states to ratify the 26th amendment giving eighteen-year-olds the right to vote. It’s been two months since the ERA was sent to the states. Do you know how many states have passed it so far? Fifteen. Do you think a state like Illinois, that still has judges on the bench who don’t believe women are capable of orgasms and sheriff candidates who want to prosecute doctors for prescribing birth control will ever pass the amendment?”

“That’s scary.”

“I got all that preached to me by Carrie during our last study group. Her councilwoman has a platform of equal rights. All because our founding fathers were so shortsighted that they could launch a revolution against a king for the right of self-governance, but declared only that all men are created equal. No matter how we teach using the masculine when a universal is intended, that’s not what people actually believe about the constitution. Sure, all women are created equal, too. To each other. Not to men.”

“You’re preaching to the choir, Nate. What does it all mean regarding your alternative service?”

“Oh, yeah. That’s what this is all about, isn’t it? Here’s what I see. Eliminating the draft—and there’s been talk about an all-volunteer army for a while now—doesn’t solve one of the fundamental issues. The army will still be made up of racial minorities and the poor who can’t afford to go to college so they can get a better education and a better job. And it doesn’t end the war. It puts it in the hands of volunteers, who still go to fight in an illegal undeclared war that supports the military-industrial complex. How can I keep preaching against the war if I ignore my call to serve in alternative service?”

“Nate, I really hate to sound like your mother, but I think we need to pray about it.”

“Honey, you know I’m not very religious, but Mom’s always been right about that. She always prays to protect our friends and families and those who might be affected by our decision, and to help us make the right decision. She never suggests in her prayer what she thinks should be the decision. Only for guidance to let us make the right decision with confidence that God will provide it.”

“I think your mom is really smart. You know, that was the problem with my church and Rev. Armstrong. I love the man and really appreciate what he did for my family, but he always told us what the right decision was. He didn’t tell us to pray about whether or not we had sex. He told us that we had to not have sex. It wasn’t a decision; it was a commandment.”

“Mom says her faith is a faith of questions, not of answers.”

“Should we pray?”

“Honey, I think we just did. Do you want to say ‘amen’.”

“Amen.”

We stopped to eat in London, but didn’t take too long there. We pulled in to our parking spot behind the Family Attic a little after eight o’clock. We didn’t bother to unload all the things in the bus. Anna and I went straight to the apartment, turned on the heat, and went to bed.

Of course, that wasn’t to sleep. I loved having long conversations with any of my girlfriends, but there always came a time when the conversation was over and it was time to make love. When we got home in Stratford, making love was the only thing on our minds.

I could still remember how I dreamed of kissing Anna when she turned seventeen. I would take her in my arms, gently stroking her cheek with my fingers, brushing her lips with my own. And then ... I was only seventeen and had never been kissed myself. I wasn’t sure what came next, other than in my dream, I came.

In five and a half years since then, I’d learned what came next. Anna and I had broken up a week before that promised seventeenth birthday kiss, and we didn’t collect on it until months later. Now, as Anna said, “Kissing makes a girl want to do all kinds of other things.” When I kissed Anna and we held each other, she wanted to do everything else we could do with our two naked bodies in bed. And that’s what we did that night in Stratford.

Anna and I explored each other like we’d done on a date when we were in high school. She looked at my cock—examined it—like she was memorizing every contour and vein. She licked it and stroked it and eventually took it in her mouth to coax a maximum load of come from me. But that wasn’t the end of our play. Anna lay back on the bed while I took my turn examining and just looking at her sex. It wasn’t like I never saw a pussy, but taking time to just look at Anna, to hold her open and gaze into the channel my cock wanted to invade, to lick from butt hole to clit and back again. All those things that we never seem to take time to do. I still thought Anna’s vulva was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.

When she’d come on my tongue, I kissed my way up her body to her lips, as I slid my length into her and we both gazed in wonder into each other’s eyes. It was a wonder that we were so in love with each other. It was a wonder that we both loved two other women like our lives depended on it. It was a wonder to feel my phallus, almost painfully stiff, sliding in and out of her moist heat as we both rose to another climax, gasping ‘I love you’ to each other in the haze of orgasm.

And then we held each other, lying side-by-side beneath the covers, continuing to kiss and whisper our love. We woke up that way on Monday morning and made love again before dressing and getting started on our day. We had a schedule for the week that would allow very little time for just resting in each other’s arms.

“We have three shows to photograph and get prints ready for,” Anna said as we arrived at the theatre Monday afternoon. “As You Like It opens the fifth, Lorenzaccio opens the sixth, and King Lear opens the seventh. Before that, they will each have audience previews for the locals. The actors must be going crazy.”

“I can’t imagine how they keep their lines straight from one show to the next,” I said.

“Most of the leading characters are only in one show. Supporting actors are in a couple and extras and walk-ons might be in all of them. I understand your new girlfriend is playing the lead in this one,” Anna laughed.

“New girlfriend? Say it isn’t so! What are you talking about?”

“Patricia said you took photos of a new actress over spring break that Damien and Kathleen brought over from England. She was very satisfied with the sitting according to Patricia. She could hear how satisfied she was all the way upstairs.”

“That may be, but she’s part of Damien and Kathleen’s little menage.”

“Oh. Well, may she come no closer to our bed than Kathleen has,” Anna said.