Chapter 19

Kris and I were married less than a week later, and our first child was born less than a week after that. But since, like her sister Jean, Kris hadn’t shown her pregnancy at all, William Cameron Harris, IV came as a bit of a surprise to a lot of people. Kris? All she did was to appear with a sharply concave lower belly after the delivery which was attended by Tina and Liz. Go to the hospital?

In Kris’s words: “What on earth for?”

We all realized that Tina and Liz, like Kris and Jean, were from “some other place”, too. And like them, they seemed to be made for a single guy each.

Liz Williams met her man who turned out to be another financially-oriented attorney. They were at a preliminary conference in anticipation of mezzanine financing. The guy was named George Johnson, and he and Liz started off by fighting like cats and dogs. I was present because it was nut-cutting time and she wanted me there to nod if I liked the deal. George was representing the company while Liz, of course, represented me.

It was truly funny to watch. The fact is that George Johnson is every bit as good a lawyer as Liz, but she had one insurmountable advantage: the girls’ incredible information storage and retrieval system. Computers have the storage, but not the indexing and retrieval ability. So there we were sitting at a conference table. Liz only had a writing pad in a leather folder in front of her, but she cited laws, regulations and court cases with happy abandon.

George was really being chewed up. I’m sure he felt he was fully prepared, but the reality is that no one is or can be fully prepared for the girls and their incredible mental capabilities. Finally it was over, and I guess we won. George called his principal and got our deal approved.

At that point, he rose and came around the table with his hand extended toward Liz. I guess I hadn’t been paying much attention to him or his appearance before, but then I realized that he was as tall and as big as I was. And I guess he was rather good looking, too.

Liz took his hand, then pulled him close, wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. I was stunned. But then I could actually see the electricity between them and hear the bells.

Initially, George was flabbergasted, but recovered. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled Liz closer to him while their kiss continued. When the finally eased apart, I saw Liz groping him and gently squeezing his cock and balls.

“What was that for?” he asked, astonished at the behavior of this incredibly beautiful lawyer.

“That was to just check out the equipment,” she replied nonchalantly, “and it’s really very nice.”

“Do you do this with every guy you meet?”

“Of course not!” she exclaimed, appearing insulted. “Only the guy I’m going to marry.”

“Huh?” was his only response.

We left the office with George and repaired to a nearby bar to get better acquainted.

It turned out that George Johnson’s personal background — where women were concerned, anyway — was the antithesis of my own. He was sexually active at 13 and increasingly so as the years passed. At that point, he was in his late twenties, and based on his own experience felt he could get any woman he wanted into bed within two hours or less.

It was funny, really. Hearing his recital of female conquests, all Liz did was to smile prettily and comment, “That’s nice.” But then she stunned him by asking, “How long can you keep going at one time? Cam, here, keeps his wife, Kris, in orgasm for three hours at a time, and frankly I’m jealous.”

“Three... hours... !” He was stunned.

“Well, that’s not really true,” Liz continued. “It’s not three hours every time; only a couple of times a week, I guess. And sometimes it’s as short as ninety minutes ... the bastards!”

“Huh?”

“Cam and Kris laugh about it behind our backs — that’s me and my roommate, Tina Miller. They really do it just to get us green with jealousy ... and it’s deliberate, too. It’s that bitch of a wife of his, Kristin. She insists that Cam keep the bedroom door open. And sometimes she counts her orgasms out loud. Can you believe it? Here the bitch is with her body spasming in orgasm screaming out, ‘Thirty-seven!’ And that was only last night, too.”

After drinks Liz invited George up to the apartment. He got to meet Tina and Kris, of course, and we had one of Kris’s landmark dinners. Tina took care of the baby while the rest of us played Bridge. George turned out to be a Life Master, but could barely hold his own playing with Liz against Kris and me.

It was at the Bridge table that Liz told her story about life at the Institute and before. And it was all over that first night.

George and Liz were married just a month later.

Tina’s story was different. She encountered Scott Harrington one Friday night down in Soho when she was in her trashy mode. Tina, following Mom’s example, had had her clitoral hood pierced and ringed, then had followed it up by having her nipples and navel pierced and ringed, too. Just how a computer nerd had managed to find an artists and models gathering I have no clue, but that’s where she was. Kris said it was to permit her to show off her body piercings, but who knows?

All she was wearing was a fairly short skirt slit up to the waist on both sides along with a length of diaphanous silk that was almost like the shoulder strap of a sam browne belt that went over her right shoulder and over her right breast. Of course, it was virtually transparent, fully revealing the gold ring through her nipple, and her left breast was completely bare. Her navel ring showed, and since she was wearing nothing under the skirt, her clitoral ring showed from time to time, too.

(It should be obvious, dear reader, that neither Kris nor I were present at the festivities, nor at most of the other subsequent events. Her story was pieced together from what she and Scott eventually told us about the events.)

She was sipping a glass of very inferior white wine when Scott introduced himself. “What on earth are you doing in that get-up?” were his first words to her.

“Huh... ?” was Tina’s first word to him.

“This event is for artists and models; you are neither. Why are you here, and why are you looking the way you do?”

“Huh... ?” she repeated.

“I’m Scott Harrington,” he said, introducing himself. “And who am I insulting?”

“My name is Tina Miller,” she said with her green eyes flashing emerald sparks. “And why do you care who I am or why I’m here?”

“Because you’re the personification of true class,” he explained. “I just wondered why you’re slumming, and why you’re dressed the way you are?”

“Class?” she exclaimed. “Me? Mr. Harrington, you must be thinking of someone else.”

“Look, the wine here is awful. Do you have something to cover yourself with? I would like to take you to a nice place and get acquainted.”

“What on earth for?”

“Because I’m going to marry you,” he announced, “and I thought it might be nice to get to know you a bit before the ceremony.”

And that’s the way it began.

It turned out that Scott was truly an artist, and a very good one. Moreover, it also developed that Tina was remarkably knowledgeable about art, and more importantly to both of them, about art marketing. They spent the rest of the evening getting acquainted with Tina spending it wearing a raincoat in the small bar he took her to. And it was all over when he returned her to our apartment and kissed her for the first time. That was immediately followed by Tina taking him to her bed.

Scott was a successful artist, but with Tina’s help became far more successful. And she became his favorite model. So if you see a green-eyed tawny-haired golden woman on canvas, it’s probably Tina. Furthermore, she was able to have a slightly bulging belly when she was pregnant, too. (My mother managed the same thing; she claimed it was no fun being pregnant if she couldn’t show off for her friends at the club.) At any rate, there is a whole series of paintings of Tina: her first pregnancy, nursing her first infant, and then later paintings with the children arranged in stair-step order, all nude but with their genitals hidden by their mother who was inevitably nursing a newborn.

The arrangement worked perfectly. Tina was a stay-at-home mom, but at the same time she built a thriving business as a software writer and computer consultant. A great deal of her work was with Merrilee Adams; the two seemed to almost share a single brain. The fact that they were separated by about 1,000 miles didn’t faze either of them a bit. Working together they produced the most powerful and useful software on the market to their mutual profit. Tina claimed her work consisted of nursing her latest infant and endorsing her royalty checks. That got to be a bit of a bother, though, so she ended up using direct deposit. This reduced her work to recording the deposits and giving the money to Liz and Terry to invest for Scott and her.

From the very beginning I thought that both Liz and Tina would be perfect wives, and they were. Hell, they were almost as good as Kristin herself.

This brings me back to the situation we were facing: First of all, Kris and I had built a house on land adjacent to my (our) parents’. It worked out pretty well; there was a total of almost 100 acres and it ended up with our place as well as the Johnsons and the Harringtons in a not-so-little enclave. But all of the women were pregnant — most particularly including my mother — and there was a great deal to be taken care of.

That’s when I received a call from Jonathan Wilkerson. Although we had communicated regularly, in every case contact had been initiated by us, and usually by me. But not that time; it was a first.

After initial pleasantries had been exchanged, I asked, “What’s the occasion? What can I do for you?”

“Several things,” he replied. “First of all, would you please convey my anger to The Carriers — all of them! — for their failure to advise me in advance of their weddings. And, Mr. Harris, that goes particularly for your lovely wife!”

“I will certainly do that,” I agreed. “But that’s not the only reason, is it?”

“Not hardly!” he continued. “There’s also a small matter of your $50-million gift to the Institute. To be completely honest with you, it is making life truly pleasant for me. For the first time, I need no longer be concerned about money for the Institute. To say that I am very grateful understates the case dramatically.

“But there’s something else: There are four girls here that I really need to do something about. Their names are Little Bit, Ann, Judy and Kim. Perhaps you may remember them?

“Of course I do!” I exclaimed. “Don’t tell me they’re in trouble... ?”

“Oh, no, far from it,” Jonathan Wilkerson quickly replied, “it’s just that...” And he seemed to run out of gas.

“‘Just that’ what?” I persisted, becoming exasperated.

“Mr. Harris, let me back up for a moment,” he continued. “First of all, I’ve instructed my agents to be particularly on the lookout for tall, skinny girls. Heretofore, they’ve tended to concentrate on early-developing ... full-chested ones, might I say? First The Carriers — and now the younger girls — have shown us the error of our ways. As your girls before them, Little Bit, Ann, and the other two are truly stars. All four are utterly brilliant and are now flowering into incredible beauties ... on The Carriers model, I should add.

“There are two problems, however: First, our patrons by and large still prefer big-busted women. But second, these girls are much too good to be mistresses and housekeepers. So ... could I send the four of them up to you?” His last words came out in a rush; it was almost like a single long word.

“Of course you can!” I instantly replied. “We would love it! But what would you like us to do?”

“Would your mother... ?” There was a question mark at the end of his phrase, but the thought was not complete.

“Would my mother what?” I prompted.

“Let me be completely frank with you,” Jonathan explained. “There is a rumor around that your mother has taken The Carriers under her wing ... treating them like they are her daughters. Is that true?”

I let his words sink in for a moment before replying. “Yes, it is. And it’s the most remarkable thing I’ve ever seen. It’s as if she is their true mother. The love they share is truly wonderful to see.” I paused and then added, “Could we have a trial? What I’m thinking about is this: The chemistry between Mom and Kris, Tina, and Liz is truly beautiful. I suspect it will be with the younger girls, too, but I can’t be sure, of course. So what I have in mind is to send a plane down to pick up the girls. They’ll meet Mother and we’ll see how it goes.

“If it doesn’t click, the girls will have had the chance to see the sights of New York and should have a great time anyway. Then we’ll send them back. Does that sound fair to you?”

“Yes, it does,” he quickly agreed. “But frankly, Mr. Harris, as you know I’ve been matching couples for years. What I can tell you is that all four girls have profiles that are virtually identical to The Carriers’. So I’m morally certain it will work out.

“Now when would you like to do it?”

“What about the girls?” I asked. “They certainly have a say in the matter.”

“I haven’t broached the subject with any of them, pending this talk with you. But I can tell you that all four are constantly referencing The Carriers. Those three are these girls’ idols. I can assure you they will love the opportunity. As for when, it depends entirely on you. They could be ready in ten minutes.

“And of course I’ll be giving the girls checks for the balance of the money you gave me for their benefit.” Wilkerson paused for a moment and then added, “I’ll do the same thing with them that I did with The Carriers with the addition that the envelopes can only be opened with your mother’s permission.”

“I’ll have an aircraft waiting for them at the terminal ready to takeoff at nine o’clock tomorrow morning. Does that work for you?”

“I’m certain it will,” he replied, “but to be certain, I’ll speak with the girls and confirm in a few minutes.”

And that’s the way we left it. His confirming phone call came less than 30 minutes later.

The following day I got a call from Executive Aviation with the ETA for the girls’ flight from the Yucatan. It was coming into Westchester County Airport rather than Teterboro or LaGuardia. My parents decided to wait at home — after being strongly encouraged in that direction by the girls — while the four of us took two cars to the airport.

The G-5 landed right on time and taxied to a hangar that Executive Aviation maintained at the airport. Because Westchester isn’t an international airport, the plane had landed at New Orleans on its way north and the girls had cleared customs and immigration there. With the girls bubbling, we went around to where the cars were waiting.

There Tina, after first checking to see that no one else was in the area, looked at the girls and said, “Well... ?”

“Well, what?” Little Bit asked.

“Good Lord, girl!” Tina replied. “Have you forgotten everything we tried to teach you already? Particularly you and Ann; we never really had the chance to do much work with Judy and Kim.”

“But...”

“But what?” Tina exclaimed in an even louder tone of voice. “Strip, damn it! All of you!”

Fortunately, it was a warm afternoon in early April because the girls were far more used to the Yucatan’s heat than to Westchester’s chill. They stripped and stood at attention in a row. Liz and Tina conducted it while Kris just hugged me as she tried to control her giggles.

The two Carriers looked over each girl carefully, again starting with Little Bit. Tina took the lead. Almost to herself she murmured, “Skin tone ... Okay. Figure ... Posture ... Breasts are small...” Then she pulled on one of the girl’s nipples and added, “But nipples are okay...”

While my attention was focused on Tina and Little Bit, Kris had been watching the two younger girls. Clearly, they were upset; tears were starting to streak their cheeks although they were still standing up straight.

Just then Tina goosed Little Bit, and the girl shrieked. “What is wrong with you?” Tina yelled. “You’d think you were an untouched virgin or something!” She continued her digital exploration of the younger girl’s body.

“Tina, that’s enough!” Kris declared. “These kids are nervous enough about the prospect of meeting Mother and you’re just making it worse.”

Tina was startled by the comment but let it go and did stop. To Little Bit she said, “You’ll do, Little Bit. You’re lovely.”

“Thank you, Miss Miller.”

“What?” Tina shrieked.

Little Bit visibly jumped at that one. “But—”

“It’s ‘Mrs. Harrington’, bitch! And don’t you dare forget it. The infant I’m carrying in my belly was conceived in wedlock and will have a mother and a father! Got it?”

“Oh, Tina!” the girl exclaimed. “That’s just so neat! And congratulations to you and your husband.”

“You can congratulate Mrs. Johnson, also. She’s got a bun rising in her oven, too.”

All four of the girls hugged and kissed the two Carriers and finally we were able to load up the cars and get out of there.

Little Bit and Ann rode with Kris and me back to our parents’ house. The girls were so cute oohing and aahing at the estates we passed on the way. It was only then that I realized how different the surroundings were from the Yucatan or from the cities the girls had grown up in. It was entirely possible they had never seen anything like the area we were driving through in their lives.