Chapter 112

“It only becomes art if it touches other people.”
—Andreas Eschbach, The Carpet Makers

“IS IT ... IS THAT OKAY?” Beca asked on behalf of all of us. I couldn’t even imagine asking an ex to help the current love and I wasn’t sure what was happening here. Beca still had hold of Donna’s hand and I could tell Donna wasn’t interested in letting it go.

“Yes, of course,” Donna laughed. “He owes me this one. Don’t worry.”

“Donna,” I said. I didn’t mean to whisper but my mouth suddenly would make no louder sound. “You aren’t being forced to do something you don’t want to in order to make this happen, are you?” She sat up straight. All of our attention was focused on her and her nudity had nothing to do with it. She looked directly at me.

“I don’t know how to take that,” she said. “I don’t know if you think I am that stupid or that loyal.”

“Yes,” I said.

“Yes?”

“I am—we all are—falling in love with you. It’s been coming for a long time and I think it is very near. But for all that, we really don’t know you that well. I know what I want to think but I don’t know if you really are that stupid or that loyal. Please don’t think badly of us, but we’ve held from the very beginning of our pod that no one ever has to do something he or she is uncomfortable with. If you are not fully comfortable with having...”

“John,” she supplied.

“ ... with having John here to do this, we’d rather find a different way—even if it means we don’t have the kind of quality a professional videographer could give us. Donna, we love you. We want you to be a part of us and that means not sacrificing yourself for us. I ... we ... please, Donna. You are the only one who can tell us.”

“I see.” She didn’t say anything for several seconds and I was afraid we’d just lost our newest pod member. Brittany gripped me more tightly and Desi’s arm wrapped around my back. “You’re right, Jacob. We don’t know each other well enough to know. Would I ‘pay’ for services by doing something I don’t want to do? No. Would I sacrifice myself for the pod? I don’t know. Fortunately, neither of those is the case.” She sighed.

“That’s all we really needed to know,” I said.

“Yes and no. This pod was not the reason I broke off my engagement with John. I admit, as soon as it was done, my first thought was that I was free to explore whether there was a fit. But John and I are not suited to each other for other reasons. He was always good and very kind to me. If you think about the scripture that says ‘no man has greater love than he lay down his life for his friends,’—or whatever the exact quote is—you’d find John as an exemplar. He would have sacrificed anything for me. Except his prejudices. Philosophically, we are not on the same page. We did a lot of tolerating each other. We were very much in love, but down deep, we didn’t like each other. That is why we—I should say ‘I’—broke off the engagement. I couldn’t see myself married to a man whose politics and opinions were so diametrically opposed to mine. I understand that you—most of you—are still in the process of forming those opinions. Nanette and Sophie and I are ahead of the rest in that regard, for no other reason than it takes time to mature into the kind of person you really are. But I like what I see here, just as your other older pod mates do. We have a kindred spirit. That is what I lacked with John. Do I love him? Yes. Do I want to be part of the culture he sees around him? No. When my father died, John simply assumed I’d sell the farm and move in with him. I love the farm. That was the final straw, as far as I was concerned. I helped him, though, with several projects over the past year since we broke up. That is why he owes me, not because I’m offering him any kind of ‘compensation’ for his time. It’s up to you, of course, whether you are too uncomfortable with our past relationship to accept his help. If you agree to it, he’ll be here Thursday morning. If not, I’ll call him tomorrow and tell him not to come.”

“I’m sorry for sounding so immature, Donna,” I said.

“Actually, you sparked a very mature conversation, Jacob. I should have led with that explanation instead of springing it on you as if I were your teacher and you needed to do what I say,” she said.

“I scarcely thought that,” I said.

“No. I did. It’s the way I approached the subject. I’m the one who’s sorry.” She paused and looked around the circle before heaving a big sigh that did spectacular things for her breasts, setting them in motion and acting like a magnet for my eyes. “I need to say one other thing, however. This is something I detected in our discussions over the summer and that has drawn me more intimately into the pod. If I decided to sleep with John—because he’s a very sexy man and turns me on—it would be no one’s business but my own. Just like Emily sleeping with her barracks roommate or Rachel sleeping with someone during basic training would be only her business. Let’s make sure we all understand and can accept that.”

“Yes,” Beca said. “One of the reasons for having a pod is to have something to come back to after. We’ve all talked about that. We’re going to be split up and tossed around the country against our will. It’s not what we do while we’re gone that makes a difference. It’s that we come back. And have something to come back to.”

“I should let you all discuss this and go back to my tent. Surely, that girl has worn herself out by now,” Donna laughed. I stood up as did the rest of the girls.

“If there is no objection?” I said, looking around. “I think we can agree and thank you for bringing your solution to us. This will give us a huge boost in terms of our production quality. May I give you a kiss before you go, Donna?” I asked.

“That would...” I’m sure she glanced down at my still-tumescent cock. “ ... be a pleasure.”

Oh, God! Yes! I had Donna’s naked breasts pressed against my chest as my cock speared her stomach before being pushed to the side so we could fully embrace. We kissed and she didn’t pull back from me. I didn’t grab her ass, as tempting as that was, but just poured my love into that kiss.

“I’m growing to love you, too, Jacob,” she whispered to me. “Perhaps I could have a kiss from each of the girlfriends before I go as well,” she said aloud.

The girls took her up on that offer straightway and as soon as Brittany was clear of Donna’s arms, she was in mine. One by one, we collected kisses and clung together. Donna pulled on her nightshirt and camp robe and stepped out of the tent flap with a soft, “Goodnight. Sweet dreams.”

Dreams were a long time coming as the five of us fell back on the air mattresses and made love.

Wednesday, we worked like maniacs. Several times, we saw people standing nearby as we rehearsed. Cindy, Desi, and I focused on each other and on making our music and our actions 100% consistent. Donna gave us suggestions on positions and dramatic flair. Beca brought us water and encouraged us at every break. Brittany and Sophie sprang into their own as dancers, enticing the sprite to the minstrel and then to the monster.

And Desi.

I knew Desi was able to adopt a character and play it. I’d heard her sing often enough. But I had no idea how astute a musical talent she was. There wasn’t a word of dialog or lyrics in our performance, but Desi’s vocalese ran counterpoint to Cindy’s and my playing as if the composer had arranged it. It was amazing. We worked all day and by dinner time, we felt our performance was as good as it would get. Little did we know.

John arrived at nine Thursday morning. I thought he was driving down from Fort Wayne, but it turned out he’d driven to and stayed in Louisville Wednesday evening. We hadn’t started yet and anticipated another run-through before he got to the camp. Riko and Riley took care of getting him checked in with credentials and Donna brought him to the fire where we were still cleaning up from breakfast.

“John, I’d like you to meet my pod and our company of performers,” Donna said. I saw John’s eyebrow shoot up but he didn’t say anything. “This is Beca, my assistant director and assistant producer. These lithe young women are Brittany and Sophie, our dancers. Desiree is our vocalist and plays the part of the monster. If Pentatonix knew about her, they’d be Sexatonix—in more ways than one.” We all laughed and Desi bowed. “And this is Marvel and Hopkins. They are the featured performers and we expect them to make many videos in the future, with or without everyone else.”

“Happy to meet you, John,” I said, extending a hand. There was nothing aggressive in his handshake and he offered his hand to Cindy, too.

“I’ve previewed the YouTube performance the two of you did in the spring. You’ve got a great sound and chemistry. I’ll do my best to make the video equal to the performance,” he said. Then he was all business. “I’d like to record everything. To start, forget I’m here. I want to see you get into costume and makeup. I want to hear you play. I want to record your staging before we even talk about how to pick it up for the final. We never know what we might be able to cut in later. Think of that part as a documentary. After I’ve seen it once, we’ll start working on video angles and scenes.”

“You want to record us getting into costume?” Brittany asked. She looked shocked and Cindy was hiding her face.