Chapter 82

“But when a woman decides to sleep with a man, there is no wall she will not scale, no fortress she will not destroy, no moral consideration she will not ignore at its very root: there is no God worth worrying about.”{br}—Gabriel García Márquez, Love in the Time of Cholera

1 JANUARY 2020

Trying to wake up enough to write but Desi and Rachel are sleeping mostly on top of me. What a great way to start the New Year. Oh, and Livy is curled up between my legs and has periodically pulled my shorts down to lick my cock and keep it hard through the night.

Joan’s birthday party Monday night was pretty reserved with all our parents there. Except for her burning her induction letter. But our New Year’s Eve party was something else entirely. The parents decided Joan’s house was entirely too comfortable to leave six girls and me unattended. I don’t get why. They know most of us are sleeping together. But Brittany’s parents volunteered their house for our party and Sophie volunteered to chaperone. Which is almost like not having a chaperone. The parents and younger kids all went to Livy’s house. Most of the parents. Sharon had a different party to go to.

So, there we were last night, tock ticking toward midnight. Brittany stood up, winked at me and then dragged Sophie off to another room. It didn’t take long for the rest of us to get in a compromising position, which included Livy between Desi’s legs, Joan and Beca in a sixty-nine, and Rachel posting on my cock as we counted down to the climax. I mean midnight. By the time we were done kissing and stuff, Sophie emerged with Brittany in nightgowns and told us to get ready for bed. We brushed teeth and rolled out our sleeping bags and just piled together in the living room.

I need to nudge people awake before Brittany’s parents or grandmother come out and start prying us apart.

Oh, God! Livy just licked me again!

My parents laid claim to me for most of the rest of the week. After all, I’d spent from Christmas to New Year’s in the company of my girlfriends. Desi still got me away for a little break, which was spent in the most predictable way possible. After all, I was still technically her sex slave.

And Friday night, Rachel and I went out. We spent the evening going from house to house to make sure our girlfriends all knew we loved them. When we got home, she slipped into my room with me and we made love before going to sleep. Mom and Dad didn’t say a thing about her being at breakfast when they got up in the morning. In fact, Mom just gave her a little kiss on the head and went to pour her coffee.

The whole attitude toward relationships still puzzled V1. I admit that sometimes when I looked at Rachel, I could hear myself saying, “If that were my daughter, I’d lock her up until she was thirty and shoot any boy who came sniffing around.” But when she smiled at me, my heart melted and my cock stiffened and there was no more conscious thought process.

Mom and Dad acknowledged my relationship with each of the girls, including my sister. The strongest words they used were to tell me to ‘act responsibly’ and to remind me that Beca and Brittany were younger than the rest and not to rush them. If anything, Beca was coming out a lot faster than I ever expected she would, but our relationship would always be focused on pleasing our girlfriends, even if we touched each other sometimes. And Brittany… I’d have sworn I tasted Sophie on her lips when I kissed her goodnight on New Year’s Eve. That girl had a streak of mischief in her a mile wide. And I savored the scent and flavor I found on Sophie’s lips when she unexpectedly kissed me goodnight. I wondered if Brittany would start playing around with the other girls when Sophie returned to New York in the middle of January or if she’d set her sights on me.

And my parents just accepted it, even asking for a copy of our pod logo. Mom just said that we couldn’t all have tattoos until we were eighteen, but she thought she’d seen a place that made patches we could apply to our backpacks or something. Cool.

I had things set to do my Sunday concert and was kicking myself for not having talked to anyone about being here to play to. I was kind of digging having a girlfriend with me when I did my playing. Well, first was Pey wanting to listen. But then Beca and last week Desi. It was such an intimate time with them, even though I edited the recording and uploaded it to my YouTube channel. Especially, Desi’s since we’d recorded it in bed. My subscriptions had jumped up by fifty percent. She made sure it was obvious we’d spent the night together.

There was a soft knock on my door as I set the music on my stand. That was odd. If they thought I was recording, Mom, Dad, and Pey had all perfected the art of just opening the door and peeking in. I went to the door and Francie was standing there.

“Jacob, can I join you this morning?”

“Francie! I’m so surprised. I’ve hardly seen you at all this fall.”

“Yeah. Nine months of having a little parasite attached to my tits kind of hampered my social life.”

“How’s he doing?”

“Weaned. Grandma is almost happy that she’ll be fulltime caretaker now.”

I looked into Francie’s eyes and saw tears waiting to fall.

“Francie?”

“I’m going into Service tomorrow!” she burst out sobbing. “I tried not to get too attached to him but now I have to leave and he won’t even know me when I get back.”

“Damn them! You’d think they’d have a few common sense rules about mothers and children.”

“I’m just lucky my mother wants to take care of him. I got a letter detailing my options, which included giving him up for adoption or placing him in foster care for the duration of my service,” Francie sobbed. “I just… Jacob, for old times’ sake, can I cuddle with you this morning?”

“You want to be on the video with me?” She nodded.

“Let me touch up my makeup and get the tear streaks off my face. I promise not to mess up the recording.”

We got settled and I turned on the recording. Francie had obviously studied the recordings and knew exactly where to sit. I started with ‘Sarabande’ and its mournful sounds pretty much set the tone for the morning. All good intentions aside, by the time I finished Gallot’s ‘La Lucrece’ at the end of my half-hour set, both Francie and I had tears running down our cheeks. I clicked off the recording and set aside my guitar. By the time I turned to Francie, she already had her shirt off. Mine quickly followed.

It was like nine months had never passed since the last time we made love. I still remembered her erogenous zones and paid loving attention to each of them. I remembered that she liked to kiss and loved having her nipples sucked. That latter proved less effective than I remembered. All the sucking on them she’d had the past few months must have deadened the nerves a bit.

I crawled between her legs and she guided me into her hotness. I guess some women get all stretched out during birth but I noticed no difference in how tight Francie was compared to the first time we made love. We just went together naturally.

My videos were nearly two hours late being uploaded.

We had just sixteen days before Cindy’s recital. That meant Monday, with no school, was a lesson day with her flute teacher and my guitar teacher. Predictably, we spent more than an hour with Jannie working with us on blend and tone. There was one phrase from ‘Quijote’ that I think we went over twenty times before she was satisfied. From now until the twenty-second, we’d be practicing almost every day.

Mrs. Marvel still wasn’t very happy that I was going to be spending so much time with her little girl. I think I felt the same way. She was just too young. Even for my sixteen-year-old V3. I felt completely justified in treating her like the little girl she was. I know that when I woke up a year-and-a-half ago, I was still fourteen but even then, I felt a lot older than Cindy’s fourteen. This was one time I let V1 take control of my body and my attitude. I was here to help this little girl succeed in what I’d come to understand was a very important recital. I practiced hard so I could help make her look good. Or at least not make her look bad.

The recital wasn’t a school event. Cindy was being given an opportunity to play her recital with the South Community Chamber Orchestra. The twenty-four minutes we would be on stage together was the second act. She would play as soloist with the orchestra for the first half. Later in the week we’d have our first rehearsal with them. Not that I needed to worry about playing with the rest of the orchestra. They wouldn’t even be on stage when we opened the second act with our duet. It was just such a lot of pressure to put two teens under. I couldn’t believe how cool Cindy was.

“We’re going to do fine,” she said. “The pieces with you are easiest of all the things I’m playing that night. It’s not every day that a fourteen-year-old gets to play as soloist for the orchestra.”

“No kidding. You must be nervous as hell.”

“Why? I’ve practiced. I know my music. The rehearsals with the orchestra are so they learn their cues and how to follow the conductor so he can keep them with me,” she said. What incredible confidence!

We headed for Vinnie’s studio next and he listened to our entire program, unlike what he did the last time we rehearsed there. He even gave me a couple of pointers regarding places where I should be using harmonics instead of pressing the string to the fret. Cindy applauded when she heard the difference in the tone.

Then he had us do another piece where we really played off each other.

“I don’t know why you have them work on something like that!” Mrs. Marvel said. “It isn’t anything they are going to play.”

“No,” Vinnie answered. “Not now. But look at how they pay attention during that piece. It’s not just the music, it’s connecting them so they are in sync with each other. Now let’s go back to ‘Tango Ladeado’ and pay attention to each other. You know the music. Know each other.”

Wow! I don’t know if it sounded better or not but… V1 had seen a few women orgasm over his 81 years before translation and V3 had seen a few more. I could tell the signs of a woman’s arousal when I looked in her eyes. From the heat and blush on Cindy’s face, I’d almost swear she came. I looked over at Vinnie and Mrs. Marvel when we finished and Mrs. Marvel had a flush on her face as well. What was Vinnie trying to do to me?

We finished our lessons for the day and they dropped me at home. The ride there was really quiet.

On Tuesday, school was in swing like we never had a break. My schedule was the same as first semester except instead of Entrepreneurship in the last period, I had a class called Personal Financial Responsibility. Ms. Grayson was an older woman with a few extra pounds and gray hair. I could just see my classmates wondering what she could possibly teach us about being financially responsible. She didn’t seem to have much presence. She looked like a secretary at an accounting firm. If you saw her on the street, you’d never look twice.