Section 16

“That explains why some dishes are described as an assault on the senses.” Karen answered. “That peanut sauce is felony assault. It’s easier to gargle wasabe.”

“Now that you mention ‘assault on the senses’, be very careful when you remove the titty tags. Pepper oil on ultra sensitive nipples is not a good idea. Endorphins will not help.” He grinned. “Though it will probably make Melody come like a banshee.”

He continued, “Right now, we need to work more instruments into the musical arrangements. The concert will start at noon whether we are ready or not. I prefer ‘ready’. Sherry will still have spotter duty at the top of the stairs, but if we are sure the threat is over, she will be playing her trumpet. We have a dulcimer, flute, harmonica and French horn to integrate into our sound.”

“We can do that. The dulcimer can enhance the strings; flute and French horn become our brass section, with or without the sax or trumpet, and the harmonica can do what blues guys have done for years, vamp on the lead guitars.” Willy declared confidently.

“The next consideration is self defense. I hope it is unnecessary.” Phil was not smiling. “We’ve been told the Reverend’s little army is out of business. I think he was not showing his whole hand. He might be crazy, stupid he’s not. That takes us to the real reason for the military costumes. The hotness of cute girls dressed for war aside, you have places to hide weapons we might need. We will be going in armed. Glocks, throwing knives, and daggers will be the order of the day. Natural pairs like the twins, Polly and Willy, will rally around the other not so well trained girls. Zina, Melody, and SuLing will strike where needed. Sherry and I will do the same. SuLing, Sherry and I will be kind of isolated because of our place on the set.”

“This is my territory. Strategic position is paramount. We have to be flexible depending on where the threat presents. Form teams based on the situation. Move to the enemy. They will expect a bunch of girls to be afraid. Rapid counterattack will put them off their plan. Hit hard and hit fast. Firearms are a last resort. If we have to shoot, I want hollow points only. No collateral hits from a through-and-through.”

“Tonight, we work together so each group will know what to expect from their team mates. Mostly, Marcie, Emily, Karen, Joanne and Nancy will hit targets of opportunity. I’ll demonstrate how easy it is to use their momentum to your advantage. Let their weight dislocate a shoulder. Hit a knee on the outside just as they apply weight in the middle of a step. Open palm slaps do nasty things to eardrums.” Phil was teaching with every word.

“You guys have a mama bear gene. I’ve never met a girl or woman who hesitated to go feral on anything that threatens family. Some might panic if attacked alone by surprise, but go after their children or siblings at your own peril. End the danger, no remorse, no limits, no prisoners, period.” Phil narrowed his eyes, “If you are going through hell, keep walking. We’ll see who walks out. Smart money is on you.”

“Like Phil, I hope this is just an exercise. If not, stay frosty and focused. We’ll either play music or play havoc.” Sherry began to herd them to the basement. “Phil and I will show you some down and dirty moves. Easy to learn, effective in practice.”

Phil had one more caution. “No biting. These clowns could test positive for everything from mumps to HIV to rabies. Avoid blood or bodily fluid contact. A kick to the nuts or a punch to a throat is as debilitating as a knife. Much easier for the grounds crew to clean, too.”

In the basement, some teens worked on the music, others worked out cooperative defenses. By midnight, they were happy with the progress. The music was going to be smooth and professional. The self-defense was adequate if not excellent. Mainly, the girls were smart and fearless. Well, not exactly fearless, but able to react despite the fear.

Phil slept in, under and around a pile of teens that night. Specifically, the new twin sets, Sally, Sara, Bonnie and Connie. All four were technically virgins when they awakened and arose to shower before breakfast. Barely. Nevertheless, none were disappointed or unsatisfied with the night.

After clean up and a quick breakfast, the teens were in the bedrooms playing dress up with the new lingerie from Victoria’s Secret. Phil, in the spirit of helpfulness, impeded the girls as much as possible, checking the fit, ease of removal and other important features.

He had succeeded in sending Zina, Joanne and Nancy back to the showers to wash away the traces of his helpfulness. Currently, his hard dick was deeply imbedded in an enthusiastic April while his tongue kept May interested. Polly and Melody were assigned titty duty on the twins because Phil’s hands could not be persuaded to ignore the pussies of Willy and SuLing who were sitting on either side. Marcie had video taping duty.

At 9:30 the doorbell rang. Emily cursed softly. “The damn roadies are early. I haven’t had a turn yet. Sherry, throw on some clothes and come with me to get them loaded out. Keep them away from the stairs.”

They got decent enough to receive company, letting Fred, Jim and Bobby move out the instrument cases and amps. Before the two impatient teens could lock the door, Claire, Carole, Carmine and Greta blew in like a minor hurricane.

Fortunately, Phil and the six girls had finished in, with, and on each other moments before and were beginning their rinse-offs as the Moms stormed in, laden with shopping bags.

Claire seemed a tad disappointed to not catch her son with his pants down, so to speak, but could tell by the pheromone heavy air that they hadn’t been far off in their timing. They wanted to know what the band was wearing today. Marcie described the military theme, explaining the underlying reasons.

Carole spoke for the critics. “Perfect for the circumstances. Bad for a bunch of hot rocker chicks, especially our daughters. Just wear the weapons carefully and cleverly. You do not want panty lines, bra strap marks or pistol bulges to spoil your appearance.”

Zina assured the Moms that her mother had raised her right and that Vicky’s dressing rooms had circumvented any such issues.

“I’m sure Lauren taught you well, but I had to ask.” Carole smiled at Zina as she spoke.

“You know my Mom?”

“Of course, dear. We all know Lauren and Travis Ladysmith.” Carmine looked the Somali girl over carefully. “Our families go way back together. Where did you think your perfect European features came from?”

“We don’t have time for a genealogy symposium now. The real reason we’re here is to make certain you girls represent Phil’s House well at the Art Gallery opening. Everybody who is anybody will be there. I intend for you all to be dressed appropriately.” Greta informed the girls. “In these bags we have ‘little black dresses’, except in several tasteful colors.”

The dresses were identically designed, sleeveless, full front, nearly backless, with slightly flared skirts, maybe three inches above the knees. The fitted, halter style bodice attached to a circular choker-type collar with a small silver loop. There was a narrow band connecting the sides, just below the breasts across the back. Each teenager would be sexy, yet modestly covered. The matching purses had thin shoulder straps and would hold a Glock 25 or five shurikin with no problem. A small dagger or two would never be noticed.

Matching two inch, Mary Janes were provided, of course. Moms never got the sizes wrong. They might be weird, but they were efficient.

Audrey Hepburn would have been proud. She might have questioned the titty tags newly affixed to the small silver loops. Phil did question the tags. “‘This tittie belongs to Phil Swenson and is attached to May’ or whoever, is a little too much information for the general public, don’t you think, ladies?”

“Perhaps.” Claire grudgingly admitted after getting her first look at the tags. “Anyway, we had pendants engraved with each girl’s name above Phil’s” She grinned, adding, “But I really like the originals. Show us the boob jewelry they are used with.”

Polly was more than happy to show the Moms the nipple clamps, but the chains and clips also. Connie and Bonnie were the designated demonstration models.

Phil was given a classic black tuxedo, complete with bow tie, cumberbund and white starched shirt. His accessories matched the deep red of his sisters’ dresses. The jacket was tailored to discreetly conceal his Glock 20, chambered in 10mm.

“We have until 11:00 to get you fitted and redressed in the performance costumes.”

The Moms had the entire group naked in seconds. Panties were chosen, bras discarded, shoes fitted and colors chosen. Phil was left to his own resources. But he was a big boy and could dress himself, thank you very much.

There is, however, no man on earth who can tie a bowtie or necktie to the satisfaction of any woman ever born. It was adjusted and readjusted a thousand times, and this was just the fitting! At this rate, he would be late for the reception, forget the Art Show.

In a moment of practical clarity, Phil called Amy Zander. “Sorry to bother so early, Amy. The Moms have spoken. We will be changing into proper arty reception wear after the concert. Can we use the figure-drawing studio as a dressing room? If you OK it, they will bring the clothes over before show time.”

“No problem at all, Phil. We even have some garment racks left over we need to return to the costume shop.” Amy gladly agreed. “What will the girls be wearing?”

“You best talk to them.” He gave the phone to Greta. “We may use one of the studios as a green room, but Prof. Zander is asking questions above my pay grade. You speak ‘sexy dress’ better than I do. I use sign language. Won’t work on the phone. Here.”

Clearly, it was a day of miracles. Eighteen armed teens, four Moms, a change of clothes each, and the band set-up were ready and in place on time. Prof. Martin would not allow them into the building further than the curtained off lobby.

They listened as the sound check came to an end. The other sounds had nothing to do with the music. About five minutes later, the teens heard a knock on the door. “Swenson, it’s Reggie. Tran and Jackson are with me. We need to talk.”

He cracked the door as they slipped in. “Dude. We spotted six more dirtbags. They are too dumb to change clothes. Trench coats and hoodies are a dead giveaway.”

Tran laughed sadly. “Dead being the operative syllable. Five of them decided to go down fighting. Your cousin’s SWAT team and the Sheriff obliged the first three. Two more learned the hard way not to be a white purity radical in DeMarcus or Nat’s faces. They will live, thanks to Campus Security.”

“However, the good news is that they have been selected out of the gene pool, courtesy of Nat, and will need motorized transport to take a piss thanks to Johnson.” Jax continued, “Too damn stupid to live.”

“Good news implies bad news.” Sherry spit. “Keep talking.”

“The sixth guy got away. He wised up. Lost the trench coat and is in the wind. Sheriff found 12 gauge shells in the pockets. He could be carrying it in his pants leg.” Reggie whispered. “We will be two deep in the front row. No way he will get through, Phil. They made it personal when they disrespected our friends. Pardon my language, ladies, but we have too many real Americans working too hard for these fucktard white separatists to screw it up.”

“Guys. Thank you, not just for what you do for us, but for what you’re doing for the whole community. Please, take no unnecessary risks. We could not stand it if one of you got hurt.” Phil thought for a few seconds. “OK, here’s the plan. Sherry, Barrett or Steyr? Silenced? Subsonic? On the bus?”

“Steyr. Subsonic, NATO rounds. Hollow point. You thinking roof spotter?”

“Yep. Tran, can she borrow your earwig? You’re looking at a bona fide Force Recon USMC sniper.” Phil asked.

Nancy spoke, “I can patch us all in through the wireless comm. system on the sound board. Keep the ears. Tell me your channel, Tran.” He did. “The whole band listens, but your voices go to the mixers. Sherry alone will have voice contact on the tactical frequency with the cop teams. Will that work?”

“Perfect. Jax, pass the word. If the tool presents weapons, you all separate to the side, palms up. Give Sherry a clean shot. We can deal.”

He was ushering the three guys out when Marian Martin came through the curtain, ashen faced. “The Security Chief briefed The Chancellor and us on emergency procedures, but I had no idea it was this serious. There are real people out there really trying to kill you?”

“The authorities took down a couple of dozen yesterday. They got five more just now. There are a lot of good people on alert out there, Prof. Martin. We’ll be all right. This concert is going to happen and the Art Show will open on time.” Phil smiled at the trembling chairman. “As my weird Mom would say, time to pull up your big girl panties and face the music. Do the intro as if everything is normal, and we will take it from there.”

His comment worked as intended. “Watch your sassy mouth, Mr. Swenson.” She laughed, “Or I’ll tell your mother.”

April said, “It won’t do any good, Prof. Martin. She’s the reason he is like this. You would just make her happy.”

“I’ve met her. You’re probably right. And right about the intro.” She mimed pulling up her pants. “The Devil be damned. It’s show time.”

Marian put on her boardroom face and stepped through the door. Melody peeped behind her. “The quad is packed solid, girls. Hope they like kazoos.”

“They like the ‘National Anthem’. Bet they sing along.” Karen responded. “Then we bring down the house.”

Sherry was back with the Steyr SSG08 case. “I’ll be up top. Eyes open. I have my ears on, too.” She sprinted for the stairs.

“There goes the trumpet part. Compost happens.” Willy beefed. “Bonnie will have to blow her horn real loud.”

Marian flung open the door. “And now, I give you the University’s own ‘Gravity’s Master’. Please stand for the ‘National Anthem’.”

The teens casually strolled out and down the stairs to take their positions. The crown murmured, waiting for the song. From the soundboard, Nancy and Joanne threw perhaps twenty kazoos to the audience. Phil and the girls held theirs high in the air. Solemnly, they began the intro phrase.

When the song began in earnest, the listeners roared in laughter and sang loud and proud. The vets in the throng appreciated the spontaneity, the sincerity and humor of the grassroots patriotism. This was not the artificial semi-forced ‘pride’ seen too often before other events where the playing the anthem was a recent mostly political affectation.

This was across-the-spectrum American patriotism with a happy smile.

As the voices sang, “banner yet wave”, a hand appeared holding a pistol over the edge of the banister wall on Phil’s right. When the head emerged, Phil sent a largish shuriken deeply into the owner’s forehead with incredible speed. The head dropped out of sight, the pistol left on the platform next to a loudspeaker.

Sherry’s voice came over the earpieces. “One down in shrubs, stage right. Please confirm and secure the flanks.”

An unknown person answered, “Copy. Flanks covered. Intruder no longer an issue.”

The band launched into the first half of the set. The two familiar orchestral pieces rocked as intended. The girls were off the charts good through the ABBA, Cline, Joplin and Lulu numbers.

Phil discovered three sets could do the ‘twin thing’ cubed when they did Ronstadt’s ‘Silver Threads’ as one harmonized voice. The audience was spellbound. Then amped up to the max when Phil drove the ‘Battle of New Orleans’ to the stars on the Stratocaster. Willy and Melody worked the keyboards and strings like a rented mule. SuLing tried to kill the tympani every chance she got.

‘Will The Circle Be Unbroken?’ got a more traditional treatment as it became an extended community singalong before the short intermission. He finally got an opportunity to break out the twelve-string. The sight of the silk wrapped katanas reminded him to do his katas.

The cheering softened as Phil welcomed the crowd, reminding them to visit the Gallery to support local artists, the four Moms came out and distributed candy bars and water to the energized teenagers.

Claire whispered to May, “We watched Phil deal with that guy on the video feed inside. Scared the hell out of the faculty. Carmine and I got them calmed down eventually, but they are spooked. Charlotte blanched but proved she wears her big girl panties every minute of every day, basically ordering them to straighten up, that Phil did what had to do and would pay his ‘personal psychic price later. Someone has to do the dirty work so you don’t have to. Be glad we have people of that calibre on our side. This could be so much worse.’ She laid it out cold and clear.”

Carole had a word with Phil after he spoke. “All the parents are backstage, except the Ladysmiths. Their flight was delayed, but Adam is streaming the show to their laptops on a secure channel. They might make it in by the finale. You never saw a prouder bunch of folks.” She spoke softly. “Act surprised. Marian wanted to catch you off guard.”

“I am surprised! This is too much. It’s just a group of friends winging it. This is the third time we’ve practiced, really.”

“And the New York Philharmonic is just a gaggle of amateurs doing open mic night at a dive bar.” Carole hit him on the arm. “That hurt! Now, knock them dead.”

“I hope it won’t be necessary,” he answered.

The rockers took their places on the steps. The Moms sat where they were and were joined by nine others. Now there were 18 players and 13 mothers on the set. Fortunately, the Moms kept to the sides, out of dancing range. Phil was not entirely happy that the firing lines were not as clear as they were, but how do you throw out your Mom?

SuLing counted in ‘Jambalaya’ and it was on from there. Commander Cody camped it up with Phil’s exaggerated country rap, then the two J Giels tunes picked up the pace considerably. The girls outdid themselves strutting up and down the stairs on ‘Centerfold’.

‘White Rabbit’ morphed into the ‘Bolero’ showcase jam, led in by Bonnie and April on the French horn and cello with the tympani marking time, as everyone took the sound over the top. The Soundboard Girls played the pots like another instrument. It was golden. SuLing broke two drumsticks pounding out the solo from ‘Wipe Out’.

At last, the girls bowed out of the sound until only the Stratocaster and drum kit were left. Phil cranked it to ‘10’, telling the Aliens it was Springsteen time. The crowd roared their approval and sang along with ‘Glory Days’. After three repetitions of the final chorus, Willy synthesized the ‘Harley’ growl.

‘Born To Run’ blew them away. Willy and May segued into Jefferson Airplane mode as Emily captured and owned the house, wailing ‘Somebody To Love’ like she was channeling Grace Slick in her prime.

The band let the sound die and the audience went wild. Everyone did the theatre bow except the tiny drummer. SuLing mock pouted. Phil grinned at her and nodded.

He heard the Steyr cough and saw a struggle on the perimeter of the crowd. Adam’s voice in his ear said, “We took down the last two. Sherry got the third. Now, it’s really over.”

SuLing’s face would light the world as she counted in the first Stones’ tune. Phil and his sisters shared vocals as the entire company did the angelic choir.

As the voices faced, ‘Gimme Shelter’ began with the Stratocaster screaming to the driving beat of the drums. Phil took over the vocals, backed by Zina and SuLing. The girls gyrated through the whole thing, doing the Pips’ Motown dance line and singing backup when SuLing gave them the chance. More than one Mom joined the line.

Joanne cranked the mics when drummer got to her solo chorus. ‘Rape. Murder. It’s just a shot away. It’s just a shot away.’ washed over the crowd at maximum volume and took the audience frenzy to another level. The three singers and everyone who could reach an instrument played and shouted the last verses four times before Phil signaled SuLing to take it home. She pounded out the obvious finale, letting the Sound Chicks pot down the others one at a time. The last ones playing were May’s Fender bass, Phil’s Stratocaster and SuLing’s drums. He pointed the fret board to the crowd, then to the sky and nodded to the girls. When he dropped it back down, the others stopped and the Sound Chicks let the sounds fade naturally.