Chapter 9: More friends

Sunday, September 16

Terry met Lois and me for brunch. She wore an interesting outfit that I couldn’t quite describe, other than having the qualities of a deeply slit cocktail dress, in a clingy red silky material. It was immediately obvious that she was braless.

Either Lois and Terry had a well-established psychic channel, or they had talked on the phone recently. I bet on the latter. Lois was also in red, but a deeper one that worked with her dark complexion.

Neither Lois nor James nor I had communicated the truly sensitive things to Terry, but she was strongly empathic. “I’m not sure why, but I have a strong sense, Harold, that you are forming something of an extended household, for a purpose beyond having fun.”

This time, James seemed to allow his sudden appearance to be accompanied by a small pop. “Yes, Terry. Harold is working with issues that literally might affect the world. You’ll get more and more detail, but (James extended his telempathy) you can be certain that it’s incredibly important, and that Harold has some special abilities.”

“Terry, I hadn’t expected that to happen, but yes. At this point, just accept that I’m working with some issues of war and peace. You should be able to put together that I’m not quite the 14-year-old you see.”

“Harold, as we develop something of an extended household, I’d like you to make Paul part of it. He’s a former Navy officer and now a physics teacher, which might be some useful background.”

“I agree.” He and Lois went off for at least an afternoon delight.

Developments

Again, we had an evening meeting. “I remembered that yesterday, the Poltava, a Soviet large-hatch cargo ship, docks at the port of Mariel, Cuba, apparently carrying the first MRBMs to be deployed. We had assumed that something the size of a large missile had to travel by deck cargo, but the Soviets managed to get them into the hold of a ship, with especially large hatches, designed to carry lumber.”

“What are we going to do about all this? Keating remains our most important political target, in the sense of being concerned and reachable. Tower is less key to the discussion, but as a womanizer, he or his staff are potential targets.

“Our goal, with Keating and Tower, is to be sure that their opposition is rational, and they don’t push JFK into premature military action. Keating apparently has pretty good sources, but they’ve overemphasized the offensive weapon aspects and underestimated the growing strength of the defense.

“It’s unlikely, but we can’t rule out getting influence on the President or some senior staff. Somewhere in this, Terry, I need you to put out feelers and try to identify links to Mimi Beardsley, a current White House intern. Also, Priscilla Wear and Jill Cowen, who were secretaries. All three were having sex with the President, and probably one of his aides that got women for him, Dave Power.

“Power, JFK, and for that matter RFK, who seemed to join in some of the activities, had a dark side. They could use the appeal of the office, and JFK’s personal charisma, to draw women to them, but once someone was in their orbit, they might be exploited. They also might be given professional challenges. JFK was quite capable of recognizing the professional potential of a woman, but also would take what sex he could get. Mimi, for example, had almost no sexual experience. Very soon after meeting, though, JFK told her to give Power a blowjob as all three were at the White House pool. He didn’t assume that she had any meaningful option as to whether she did it or not.”

I thought of Teddy Kennedy and Chappaquiddick. Although it was too far in the future to mention, it struck me as another example where Kennedys considered their women as lesser beings. Perhaps the clan father, Joseph Kennedy Sr., set the example with the treatment and eventual lobotomy of the sister, who was either mentally handicapped, psychotic, or both. Right now, though, with the risks at hand, I had no qualms about sending a woman into risk with them, a woman who knew of the risks, and was experienced and mentally strong. Others, though, might not assume that, especially considering PTSD, was taking on different but life-affecting risks than a reconnaissance pilot. With that thought, I offered respect for the soul of the one U.S. person officially assumed to have died in combat related to the Crisis, MAJ Rudolf Anderson, a U-2 reconnaissance pilot.

Later in the day, Lois and Paul joined us. I sensed Paul was absolutely delighted to be in what was becoming a polygamous group. Terry had a suggestion. “We can establish, with the right young women, their ability to project being completely legal. Of course, Greta actually is emancipated, and you know that I permit Arlene to do anything. We just might want to bring a judge into our circles for additional emancipation.

“We also need some men, for internal pleasure, for female targets, and yes, for male ones. I tend to want more mature men for RC duty.”

That evening, when we sat down in a group, I projected both seriousness and happiness. “I’d like to extend, to the rest of you, some thoughts I shared with Lois. Let me first say that I can’t guarantee our effort, immediately to prevent war, and, in the longer term, to make a better world. But I can guarantee that we’ll give it a damn good try, and I’m going to play to succeed. I accept leadership.

“Except for Paul, you are beautiful women, and Paul is physically striking. More than that, I need your intellect. I need your guidance. I need to have you challenging me physically and sexually.”

Lois had never forgotten the ritual, which I had challenged from a favorite future fictional character, Honor Harrington. She kneeled in front of me. “I shall rededicate myself. I give you my mind, my body, and my spirit in the quest. We are family and beyond family.

“My sword is your sword. Your battle is mine. Our joys and our sorrows are as one.” I didn’t know how Lois could know the words of Honor Harrington, but I could do worse than to proceed with Honor.

I took her hands, and we stood kissing softly. One by one, Terry, Paul, Arlene, Vivian, Greta. and Shelley came forward and knelt, looking eager. We repeated the ritual. “For now, you won’t know that what I say has meaning before the literal one, but, go with honor. That shall be our theme, in different ways. We go in honor. We live in honor.”

“At least once a day, everyone who can will meet, to share information but also to rededicate ourselves. We all should be aware that sexual energies also help bind us, willingly. When I am in the position of the clan leader, I want one or two people at my side, such that we can feel one another. I want the rest of you to go into pairs or trios, again in physical contact.

“Paul, I am not excluding you. I’ll be honest that my physical attraction is to women, but that still doesn’t mean that I don’t like warm physical contact with trusted men. While sexual contact with men is essentially out of my experience, it doesn’t frighten me. If a male family member were to offer something beyond the kiss of brotherhood, I would not turn him away, although it would probably be easier if a woman were also a participant, and perhaps directing, any acts.

“If the family grows significantly, we will need more men. Statistically, we may have a member who is a woman who only has sex with other women. We are able to love and honor all honest preferences.”

Monday, September 17

It was an administrative day off for the schools, so Lois, as a department chair, would be working but I would not. I’d been sleeping in my own apartment. The phone rang, and it was Terry. “Lois told us that she would be out, but we should take care of you. In fact, I’d like to do you to start, OK?” She gave a naughty giggle. “Get into a nasty mood. I already am. If you have a fantasy that strikes you as inappropriate, hold onto it because it’s probably one I’d enjoy today.”

Conveniently, she didn’t have to walk far to get to my place, nor did she worry about being seen in the hallway. She wore a black leather jacket over a filmy blue blouse that set off the ice blue of her eyes, through which her large and very firm -- in fact hard from their implants -- proudly poked outwards, obviously passing a pencil test if required. Her skirt was midthigh, slightly above her stocking tops. Her legs went into ankle-strapped pumps with six-inch-heels.

She passed me, beckoning me to follow. “I need to piss. You have several options. Close the bathroom door and wait for me. I happen to enjoy piss games, water sports, golden showers, or whatever you may call them, but they aren’t for everyone. Doctor friends have assured me that urine, from a healthy person, is sterile, and only acquires a bad ammonia smell after standing and fermenting.