Chapter 5: The House is not a Home

Power is the ultimate aphrodisiac.

Henry A. Kissinger

Dave

I scheduled meetings with our two gently loving Congressmen and their wives. We planned to set up three apartments, one for the two men and one for each of them with their spouses. The latter would be the residences known to the public, but with private elevator service to all of them, and to the garage and secluded entrance. Stu Wilhelm and “Van” Vanderpool clearly were warm people, with wives who thought of the multiple relationships as polyamory.

Don Grady, Diane’s father, knows of the relationship. Stu had told Elizabeth that he wanted a dinner with his wife Serena, his partner Van, and Van’s wife Velma. He suggested that she bring some couples. In practice, we had Donna and myself, Hal and Joan, and Martin and Melissa. He also suggested that his son Bob attend. Elizabeth suggested Charlene as a date for him, she an electronic engineering major for his chemistry field. Angus would escort Elizabeth.

Elizabeth

Looking at my calendar, I realized that Lauren should be back in town, so I called her office. “Dr. Louis, please.”

“Louis here.”

“Good morning. This is Elizabeth.”

“Hi! Believe it or not, I was just thinking about your mixture of interests, including the real political one. You’ve told me that you want to get more professional women involved, at their full potential, in government or even national security academia, including think tanks.”

I could hear her smiling over the phone. “Of course, you and I are both not just what people call MILFs, but we’re both horny MILFs. I suspect that the projects will also do nice things for your sex life.”

“Lauren dear, may I offer to share such things?”

Her throaty laugh was agreement, especially since I knew that her experience with women was greater than mine. “Would it be too sexist of me to ask you to send some promising, smart, women to go with equally promising male students of mine, especially soldiers, to things that are social events in the national security community?”

“Hell, no, Lauren. I already make use of sex appeal for access, as long as there’s stuff behind the sex appeal.”

“I have a doctoral candidate who is probably being medically discharged from the Army. He was wounded in Vietnam; other people have managed to stay active duty even with an amputated foot. With Jerry, though, there’s possibly reversible spinal cord damage that makes it difficult for him to walk.

The Army wants to keep him for his mind, but, as a captain, he’s a little junior to spend time in the Intermediate Learning level. So, they’ve put him in the pipeline for the quite prestigious “Sosh” -- the Division of Social Sciences at West Point.”

“Lorna, I’ve heard of it. It’s not a backwater?”

“Oh no. Their usual procedure is to let an officer go to graduate school for two years, teach for three years, and then return to their branch as a major. Don’t ask me how, but he managed to finish his nonresident master’s while deployed, and get started on a dissertation.

“He’s Military Intelligence branch, but, as well as analysis, was in combat. By his decorations, heroically so.”

“How about I bring him to dinner?” She gave a lusty chuckle. “He’s not my boy toy, but I wouldn’t, in the slightest, object to that. Maybe if he is in your orbit rather than mine, I might do just that.”

I chuckled. “As long as you don’t mind some associated women, I just might have some intellectual boy toys for you to try.”

“Great. As soon as convenient. I’d like to talk about our strategy, but that’s better face-to-face. Not sure if our mutual toys should be part of that, unless the toys are witting of the real purpose.”

“Witting. You don’t lose the intelligence community jargon, do you?”

“Hey, if you like, one of our group is turning into a fantastic costumer and fashion designer. Maybe you’d like to try her out. You’ve got a look that would inspire her.”

“Oh, Dr. Mata Hari?”

“More Dr. Jamie Bond.”

“Tell you what. Turn me loose on Jerry. You can be straightforward with Hal and his friends.”

····

Lauren and I welcomed Jerry to my apartment. I cheated a little with a blonde hair fall, since my hair isn’t as long as Lauren’s. We agreed that I’d wear heels a couple of inches higher.

So, Jerry met two lovely MILFs, one with long red and one with long blonde hair. We both wore trenchcoats in the apartment, which, to an intelligent intelligence analyst, should signal deliberate activity rather than coincidence.’

He looked at us deliberately, not quite with a straight face, but going over an imaginary checklist. “Yes. Subject A has larger breasts. Subject B is taller but with lower heels. Additional information to follow when coats cover less.”

I looked at Lauren. She nodded. We both pulled the lower part of our coats open and took a leg-baring pose.

“Note to control. Both subjects are carefully tanned. Subject B wears darker hose.”

“Hah!” I pulled it open to reveal my tennis-styled dress, flipping it up to show my signature seamless nude pantyhose. Lauren also flashed, showing her opera-length gartered stockings.

“Can you tell the difference now, young sir? And what is your reaction, to our physicality, your knowledge of Dr. Louis’ intellect, and your uncertainty about mine?”

“Oh, I see. You’re interrogating. Grant, Gerald Colquhoun. Captain. OF5100235. The Geneva Conventions do not require me to say more, in spite of duress.”

“Lauren, would we subject this charming soldier to duress? Coercive interrogation?”

“Oh, no. Now, pleasurable interrogation is another matter. I had planned to leave you two, but I think you need my assistance.” Lauren dropped to her knees and opened his trousers. I took him into my mouth.

In a harsh Germanic accent, she barked, “Speak!”

With a slight moan, “ Grant, Gerald Colquhoun. Captain. OF5100235.”

I couldn’t do the accent, so stage-whispered to Lauren, after taking Jerry out of my mouth, “This isn’t going according to plan, is it?”

“L’audace, l’audace, toujours l’audace. Improvise as needed.” She reached over and opened the top of my coat, pushed down the neckline, and removed one breast. “Captain, this is a considerably heavier cannon than those which I am equipped. Take due regard to resistance.” She took out the other boob.

Jerry’s hips gave a couple of thrusts. “I only regret that I have one life to give for my country.”

Lauren giggled. “Nathan Hale might have died a virgin. Do you have to give lives for a cunt or two? There are some very high quality ones in this room.”

She turned serious for a moment. “People don’t always fantasize about female professors. It’s much more difficult, though, to flash the professor if you don’t wear a skirt.”

“Professor, do you not recognize my namesake among the great Scots intelligence officers?”

“I never made the connection, but now that you mention it, yes. Wellington would approve of you. So, you’re entitled to the Clan Grant tartan.” Her voice became harsh. “So, then, why are you not before us in the kilt?”

I stood. “I shall suspend my harsh interrogation, to bring you to my collection of single malts. I trust that you will not consider this an impermissible truth drug?”

“Miss DeVries, I note that your surname sounds Dutch. You really think you can out-drink a Scotsman on his own mother’s milk?” Lauren and I went into gales of giggles.

“OK, OK. Let’s cut to the chase. We have a proposition -- well, more than one kind of proposition -- for you. I lead a group that Lauren thinks you’d appreciate, and perhaps want to join. May we discuss in confidence, with due regard to oaths?”

“Yes, certainly.”

“Before that, however...” I nodded at Lauren, and we slipped out of our outer clothing. Neither one of us wore or needed a bra. “There are societies that believe that nudity increases the probability of truth-telling. I think there’s merit to that. Lauren is now fully available. I keep plenty of pairs of pantyhose, so if you feel aggressive, take pleasure in tearing my crotch open, or I’ll slip out of them.

“I’d encourage you to remove your clothes if you like, but I’m also aware that you have war wounds. I won’t be put off by scars, but if you feel uncomfortable, wear or don’t wear whatever you like.”

“That is no problem. I swim without my prosthetic foot, although I’m hoping to get a simple swimming prosthesis. Yes, I know of such societies. Further, while I absolutely admire both of your physical charms, I am entirely capable of concentrating on discussion unless you change the subject.

“I mention, however, that the subject of what is worn under the kilt should be deferred until I am wearing one.” I clapped my hands in delight.

Lauren turned serious. “Not trying to flirt for a moment -- at this point, it’s fruitless to keep my knees apart --”

“And lovely knees that they are. I am, however, no fruit, although I have gay friends.”

“Er, yes. In our seminars, I noticed that you always treated women in the classes, not just me, as colleagues and equals. Our group is trying to get more competent women into the national security establishment. At this time, we have no ideological agenda other than, perhaps, minimizing stupid decisions.”

“May I remind you of the observation of Friedrich Schiller? In English for Ms. DeVries’ benefit, ‘ “Against stupidity the very gods themselves contend in vain.’”

“Jerry, I believe that our mode of dress and flirtation counts as an introduction, and puts us on a first-name basis even though you have, in the past, been formal with Lauren.” He nodded agreement.

“We can offer you some very nice housing and work, if you are leaving active duty. I’m going to guess given your gallant reaction: you’re not monogamous, are you?” His erection was very fine.

“No, I’m not at present. There are times where I wonder if my future holds something polyamorous.”

I clapped my hands. “You’ll be happy, then, to hear that we are a loose polyamory.”

Somewhat dramatically, he hung his head in shame. “Polyamory, though, really is wrong.”

That surprised me. “Why?”

“It’s either multiamory or polyphilia. mixing Greek and Latin roots is wrong.”

Lauren laughed hard. “See, Elizabeth, your graduate anthropology seems to have missed some linguistics.”

“Linguistics? Skills of the tongue?” I wiggled mine. “Jerry, I believe, has recent evidence of my tongue. We shall, I believe, demonstrate our mutual skills for him.”

“Seriously, ladies, this is quite opportune. While I thought that I’d have to take a medical retirement, I’ve been offered an opportunity to go on long-term medical leave, rehabilitating at Walter Reed but having no Army duties.”

“Before going on to other things, I’d like to present you with some gifts from Lauren and I, the phallic significance of which is left as an exercise.”

Lauren told him, “When you left the classroom for water, I measured your cane.”

I pulled out two canes, apparently identical, which were elegant in their styling. They did have bows. “This is conventional.” Twisting and pulling on the handle, I revealed, “This is a sword cane. Now, I think we’d like to learn more about your sword.

“Quick or romantic?”

“We can start with quick, and relax afterwards.”

“Sensible. We have a very nice hot tub for relaxation. I have a Vietnamese dinner on call.” Lauren and I each took a hand, and escorted him to my bedroom. I stretched out to near the edge of the bed, a pillow under my hips. She moved on top of me in a 69 position. “Arf, arf, Jerry? I think you’ll find both of us quite wet. I give preference to your mentor.” Lauren made sure her posterior was accessible.