Chapter 11

On Daphne's seventeenth birthday, the girls announced they were taking a year off. That wasn't actually true, in the sense that they still played, but they spent that year playing benefit concerts, for various children's and geriatric organizations. During that year, the girls played in hospitals, and places that took care of elderly people who were without the kind of money needed to live in a retirement home. They also played school auditoriums, to promote interest in music studies. Their audiences were in the tens, and hundreds, as opposed to the thousands, but they still required that Bob "prep" them, and the intensity of their performance was undiminished. Gabby took a little less prepping than Daffy. All she really had to do was look at Bob, looking at her naked body, and run her hands over her swollen abdomen, and she was almost ready to go.

There was intense interest in that swollen belly. The world knew that Gabriella Stockton was not married. Not as many people knew that her mother had also had a child out of wedlock. Sheridan's life and privacy was closely protected, so that he could grow up in as normal a family setting as possible. And, while the girls were fodder for the media, Deliah had been out of the limelight for three years by this time, and she did not appear publicly with the girls any more. Handling the managerial part of the business kept her out of sight. Hundreds of people recognized Deliah's voice on the telephone, but very few of them knew what she looked like.

Bob was another matter. He had played on their bluegrass CDs, and he was always present with the girls on tour. When Gabby started to show, he was asked questions about how it was that he had been unable to "protect" Gabby from at least one man.

"She's nineteen," he said simply. "I'm her tour manager, not her father. She has a life of her own, outside the tour schedule, and how she lives that life is up to her."

Gabby simply refused to talk about being pregnant. Her inevitable comment was "Do you have a question about my music?"

Two concerts at schools were canceled, by virtue of the administration feeling that Gabby, being unmarried and pregnant, was not the kind of role model they wanted to expose their students to. That was fine with the girls.

The girls suspended their benefit tours about a month before Gabby delivered an eight pound, seven ounce daughter. The birth was, to say the least, a milestone in the family's life. The little girl, named Chelsea, as Gabby had said she would name her daughter, was a first grandchild, a first niece and, of course, a first daughter. As such, everybody in the family was at the hospital from start to finish. Daffy cradled the baby, gazing adoringly into her tiny eyes and announced she was so jealous she'd never forgive her sister for getting pregnant first. She turned her attention back to Chelsea.

"But it's all right," she cooed to the baby. "I'm fourteen days overdue for my period, so maybe I have a cousin in my tummy for you. Would you like that?"

The uproar that announcment caused was all internal to the family, while over the next two months the media frenzy died down considerably, as the girls took time off to get to know the new arrival.

That media interest remained low when they went back to work, as Gabriella had regained her youthful appearance and flat belly, and Daphne wasn't showing yet. When the girls went back on tour Chelsea was cared for by Deliah, assited by Sheridan, and few of the public ever saw her.

Of course when, during their second tour after their sabbatical break, Daphne began to show obvious signs of being pregnant, the media furor was reawakened. She also refused to discuss her condition or who was responsible for it.

Their career, at least in America, took a hit. Scandal was hinted at on more than one occasion. People started hanging around the house, most of them with cameras hanging from their necks, as they waited to get a picture of the man, or men, who came to visit the two young women. They were led a merry chase, due to the efforts of a friend of Deliah's in the entertainment business.

The man, who happened to have homosexual tendencies, knew a number of young men with the same tastes who were also aspiring performers, and unemployed. He arranged for Deliah to hire them to visit her girls. The "suitors" were always met at the door, in full view of the cameras, where they usually got a smile, hug and perhaps a kiss on the cheek before being invited inside. Once there, they read a book, or just sat around, thrilled to be talking to someone so famous. After a few hours they left, to be followed, photographed and otherwise bombarded by the press. They got free publicity, and the press got more and more frustrated, until some enterprising reporter did enough research on one of them to learn that he was DEFINITELY not there to see a woman ... at least not for romantic purposes. Once it was learned that the media had been made fools of, their interest slacked off a bit.

Several concert venues in the United States began to display reluctance toward having the girls appear, saying that the furor in the press about them being single mothers wasn't the kind of press their customers enjoyed.

Deliah simply canceled all concerts in the United States, and replaced them with two tours in Europe, which displayed a much less up-tight attitude about grown women having babies. The girls spent more time in the studio, which was outfitted for recording. They stockpiled perfected pieces for possible future release. Financially, they were doing so well that they weren't worried about the foreseeable future.

Because American audiences weren't seeing them, as Daphne's belly swelled larger and larger, it was less often observed in publications than Gabby's had been. As a result, when Daphne struggled to push out seven pound, eleven ounce Caitlin, less notice was taken. It was a good example of "out of sight, out of mind."

Caitlin joined Chelsea and Sheridan in the nursery. Deliah coudln't have been happier, even when the girls were gone on tour.

Meanwhile, the foreign press lauded the performances that America was denied, more albums were made and released, and the girls got better and better.

It took two years for audiences in the United States to raise enough outcry for the press to begin demanding to know why they were only playing overseas. In a printed press release, the girls explained that, while there were millions of single mothers in America, the bias against that class of citizen, on the part of large concert halls, made it impossible for them to feel that they were truly welcome in their own country.

The outcry was immediate, and sensational.

American reporters started showing up at foreign concerts, always prodding and asking questions as to when the girls would start performing in America again. For the first six months, the only comment they got was "Next question, please?"

They stayed in the news, primarily because they lived their home lives as normally as they could. When one of the girls went shopping, she took her child with her. Whoever was free at the moment was the one to go grocery shopping. If they needed a pair of pants, they went to the mall, or Target or WalMart, like anyone else. People in town knew who they were, and began to be offended by the gaggle of reporters who were always following them ... always trying to stick a microphone in their faces as they sat in the food court, or walked down the canned goods aisle. The girls tried to act like those reporters weren't there, ignoring them. When that was impossible, they simply said "No comment."

Had Bob moved in with them, it probably would all have gone to hell in a hand basket. But, he stayed right where he was, in his little apartment. Nobody thought it was unusual for their concert tour manager to visit them frequently, though it became more difficult for him to spend nights. None of them were really happy about the fact that the children's father wasn't getting to spend much time with his offspring either. It was getting harder and harder to have any kind of privacy in their lives.

In the end, it was that, more than anything else, that made them decide to move out of the country.

They chose Trinidad, which was elated to have, as permanent residents, such accomplished performers. That their concert tour manager moved in with them wasn't considered unusual at all, since the whole business enterprise was moved to, and registered in that country.

Of course the press didn't give up. If anything interest intensified. Now, though, the stories on the pages of newspapers and blogs talked about suspicion that the business had moved for the purposes of avoiding taxes.

Deliah finally consented to an exclusive interview by Rolling Stone magazine. Even then, the interview was both short, and blunt.

"People in high places are bemoaning the loss of a national treasure," said the interviewer. "So, why did you two move to Trinidad?"

"That's easy," said Gabby, holding her daughter on her lap. "Remember all that furor a while back when we wouldn't wear a hijab to perform in the Middle East?"

The interviewer nodded.

"They wouldn't accept us the way we were. All we've ever wanted to do is make music. We think we're pretty good at that, and a lot of people around the world agree with us," she said. "But in Saudi Arabia, that wasn't good enough. They wanted to mold us into something they thought we should be."

The interviewer nodded, to keep her speaking.

"The same thing happened in our own country," said Gabby. "All we wanted to do was live our lives, and make music. But that wasn't good enough. We were ... we are ... single mothers, and people concentrated on that, instead of our music."

"Can you blame them?" asked the interviewer.

"We play music," said Daphne. "That's what we do. We do it because we love doing it, and we love to share that with our audiences. If an audience is not willing to accept us solely on the basis of our music, then they don't really want us ... now do they?"

"So you're saying that America doesn't want your music?" asked the interviewer.

"We're saying that, if we perform a concert, we expect people to judge us based on our musical ability, not whether we're married or not," said Gabby. "The two things have nothing to do with each other."

"So you're not going to perform in America?" asked the interviewer.

"Why would we want to perform where we're not wanted?" Daphne asked.

"But people in America love you," said the interviewer. "The sales of your recordings prove that."

"The press doesn't love us," said Gabby. "All they want to know is who knocked me up."

"You want me to use that exact quote?" asked the interviewer, frowning.

"I've been asked that exact question, over ten times," said Gabby. "They yell out 'Who knocked you up?' and expect me to answer them."

"So it's really the press you're irritated with." suggested the interviewer.

"The press represents the interests of its readers," said Daphne. "Isn't that so? Apparently the only thing the readers in America want to know is who knocked us up. We're not interested in talking about that. All we're interested in is playing music."

That interview, of course, was so sensational it was leaked to the very media the girls were protesting about. The media, of course, tried to make themselves look like the victims, touting their right to free speech. Foreign governments were elated, because the girls continued to tour outside the United States and had much more time to do so since they weren't playing in the country of their birth. Americans talked about it at the water cooler and, as they so often do, went blithely on with their own lives.

Things came to a head when the President of the United States, on a diplomatic visit to France, and the newly elected French leader he was visiting, attended one of the girls' concerts. It hadn't been on the agenda when President Willingham's trip to France was planned, but when he got there and the French leader suggested it, it was arranged.

That two leaders of the free world were in the audience, of course, was communicated to the girls. By then, they had played for heads of state before, and it actually didn't bother them that much. The intrusion of the Secret Service, who had to inspect the hall inside and out, was basically ignored, since it took place during their practice session the afternoon before the concert.

That night, inside the dressing room, Bob leaned against the door as the girls sat, applying makeup. As was their practice now, lipstick was left until last, so they could kiss Bob as much as they wanted to while he prepped them.

"You nervous?" he asked.

"Not really," said Daphne, peering into the mirror as she applied eye shadow. She was naked. Having a child had only driven the girls to take better care of themselves, and their diet and exercise routines since giving birth had produced bodies that still looked younger than their chronological ages. Their hips were a bit wider, perhaps, but that was all. Bob found them both as exciting as the first time he'd ever seen them naked. "I'm horny, instead of nervous," she added.

"That's good," said Bob, smiling. "I won't have to work so hard."

"Are you complaining?" she asked, walking over to him and thrusting her breasts out.

He felt the same way about her as he did about her sister. All he had to do was think of either of them naked, and he got erect.

"Do you want to tease me?" he asked. "Or do you want me to get you ready?"

"Both," she said, making her face pout. "I get that way when I'm pregnant."

Bob's mouth dropped open. "Again?" he asked. "Really?"

"Really," she said, her voice husky. "I found out just before we came on tour, but I wanted to surprise you."

Gabby turned to look at her sister.

"You did this on purpose," she said huffily. "You're trying to get ahead!"

Daphne didn't even look at her. Instead she reached out and squeezed Bob's penis through his pants. "You had yours first last time," she said. "Besides, I always like it better when he spurts in me and I know it's dangerous."

"Thanks a lot," moaned Gabriella. "Now that you've talked about it, I have to see him spurt!"

They ended up re-enacting a time from long ago, where Bob stood between them, and masturbated. This time, though, he aimed his spunk at their pussies, bending his knees and squeezing himself, to ensure that it was delivered where their fingers were holding themselves open for him. And this time, they rubbed it into their pussies while he watched.

Then they went out and played, like they usually played, and the President of the United States found out what he, and the whole country, had been missing.

As the last strains of the encore lingered in the still air, before the audience went crazy, the thing Bob noticed first was that the backstage area was strangely empty. He had been getting ready to deal with the press ... but there weren't any. Instead, there were tall men in suits, with wires running to a flesh-colored earpiece in one ear. They looked very alert, and very serious. One of them approached Bob.

"The President would like to speak with the young ladies," he said.

"Oh, that's nice," said Bob, his stomach fluttering a little.

Just then the two women came running off stage, prepared to hug their uncle. They pulled up short, seeing the serious-faced man standing with him.

"It seems that the President would like to have a chat with you," said Bob, hiding a smile.

"Oh really?" asked Gabby. She looked serious herself. "How nice." She turned to Daffy. "You want to talk to him?"

"I guess so," said Daphne. "I'm kind of ... hungry, though."

The Secret Service agent blinked.

Gabby turned back to him. "Tell you what ... we're going to change clothes. If he's here when we get done, we'll talk to him, okay?"

"Uh ... it might take a few minutes to get him back here," said the agent.

"Well, tell him to hurry up!" said Daphne, flashing a brilliant grin. "We're hungry."

The man turned away, appearing to talk to the cuff of his suit coat. Bob went into the dressing room with the girls.

"Are you nuts?" he laughed. "This is the President of the United States we're talking about here."

"He's just a member of the audience to us," said Daphne, stepping out of her dress. "I'd rather go to bed with you than talk to him."

"You can go to bed with me any time," protested Bob.

"I know, and that's one of the things that makes life so special." She gave him a brilliant smile, and rubbed her pussy. "Wouldn't you like to stick your nasty old baby-making penis up in me right now?"