Home - Bookapy Book Preview

Double Time

Devon Layne


Copyright ©2019 Elder Road Books


Chapter 48

“Dying was never as hard as having to live again.”

—Lynn Vroman, Energy Reborn

RACHEL PULLED UP at a quarter till eight and I got in her car to go to school. Another day of Algebra II awaited us. I leaned across the seat to give her a quick kiss and then leaned back and closed my eyes. She didn’t say anything—just reached across and took my hand as she drove to school.

“When you’re ready, we can talk. If you want to. I’m here and I love you, Jacob,” she said as we walked into class. I smiled and squeezed her hand. There was no time to wallow in self-pity. We were caught up in hyperbolas, transverse and conjugate axes, asymptotes, and equations. We had our lunch period and an hour after class before I went to drivers’ ed but we were pressed to study and work out the practice sheets. I left that class at five and found my sweet Rachel waiting for me.

“Can we go to Red Robin for food tonight?” I asked. “I’m not ready to face either of our families. I just want to be with you.”

“Yes, let’s. I’ll text Mom,” she said.

“I’d better text my mom, too,” I sighed.

For the first time since V3 turned fifteen, I wished I could drink a good dark beer with my burger and fries. V1 wasn’t much of a beer drinker, preferring dark smooth red wines. But the more I thought about it, beer had been the beverage of choice in my late teens and college years. I went straight from that to single malt scotch and didn’t start drinking wine until I was in my thirties. I suppose my juvenile taste buds were egging me on. I slurped on my Dr Pepper and put my burger down.

“I slept with my sister this weekend,” I whispered.

“I hope you mean Em and not Peyton,” Rachel said. I just nodded. Of course. “I sort of thought you already had.”

“Not exactly. I mean, we’ve fooled around. A lot. But we weren’t going to cross that line. It’s incest, Rachel. I’ve committed incest.”

“I looked it up,” she said. “When I started dating you and met Emily for the first time, I wasn’t sure what I thought about it. I mean, I’m not opposed to sharing you with our girlfriends. I just needed to know if I could accept Emily as one of them. The answer was yes.”

“What you call my old-fashioned sense of morals has me spinning. I shouldn’t have done that. But I remembered, Rachel. I remembered why we were so close. I remembered what happened and I accepted her for the bond that we made years ago.”

“Can you tell me? I won’t pry.”

“I was buried alive,” I said. I tried to keep it as simple as possible so I wouldn’t get too caught up in what I felt. And I wasn’t going to tell her about the experience in the other dimension. “She caught my hand as the sand covered me and wouldn’t let go until rescuers dug me out. Even after I died, she wouldn’t let go.”


“Yeah. I died. I was buried for at least ten minutes. And all I knew was that an angel held my hand and wouldn’t let go. Can you imagine, Rache? Can you imagine what she must have felt—feeling the life escape from my body while she held my hand and refused to let me go?”

Rachel scooted around the booth to sit next to me instead of across and wrap me in her arms. She was crying. I was crying. The server paused before continuing past our table without saying anything.

“For seven years, I’ve been having nightmares. Em always knew and came to wake me, telling me it was all a dream. I didn’t remember being buried. I didn’t remember dying. All I remembered—dreamed about—was the unending pressure closing in on my body, the inability to breathe, to feel anything, to hear anything. It kept getting worse as I got older and I decided the only way I could stop the dreams was to walk in front of a bus,” I said.

“Oh, Jacob. No wonder. No wonder you love her so much and she loves you. She brought you back to life.” So true. “Jacob… now…”

“Now I know what really happened, and I’m older. I think I can cope. I might still have some nightmares. And if you want us to go swimming, I’d prefer a pool to the beach,” I said, trying to laugh a little and discovering the ability was lying just beneath my tears. “I told Em and I’ll tell you and all our girlfriends. I’ve decided to live. I won’t let go.”

“I love you, Jacob. I’m sure we can all accept Emily when the time comes.”

We both heaved a deep breath and reached for our soft drinks. The server came by and we ordered more fries. Rachel stayed on my side of the booth and just pulled her basket toward her across the table.

“I said I did some reading. We’re all taught not to mess around with close relatives, but a huge number of siblings who are near the same age still do. The wider the age-gap, the more severe the legal penalties. When there is a sufficient gap, especially if one is a minor, the law considers it coercive and abusive, even if it’s consensual. Some religions try to paint it as sinful, but there are others that are quite open to it. With birth control, the risk of deformed babies is lowered and even if there is a pregnancy, it usually takes two or three generations of incest for recessive genes to flourish. The most cogent argument against incest is that it breaks down the normative function of a family. Roles get confused. You can’t divorce your sister. She’s still your sister. But you are choosing to redefine that relationship to one that can be broken. I’m not saying it will be, just that it can be. So psychologically, you go from an immutable, eternal relationship to a changeable, temporal relationship. If you and Emily ‘break up’ you can avoid each other and pretend you don’t exist. Your parents and little sister can’t do that. To them, you are still their children and older siblings. That’s where things get mucked up and difficult. But I believe in you, Jacob, and I believe in the kind of relationship you have with Emily. I, too, won’t let go.”

“I love you, Rachel. I could never ask for a better girlfriend. And I never will.”

“Then let’s pay the check and go somewhere we can make love. I’ve missed you.”

9 July 2019

I’ve died three times. I find even saying that is strange. I mean even to me and I lived through it. I mean… sort of.

The new-found memories of dying when I was eight and my sister holding me and not letting me go—that’s pretty powerful stuff. If I had been able to remember it earlier, I wonder if that would have stopped me from trying to kill myself. But neither Em nor I knew what to do with the feeling we had back then. It only looked bleak and hopeless.

And then I killed myself. I know the doctors say I was in a coma, but when I woke up, I was a different person. I had a different attitude toward life—and toward my sister. My head held an entire lifetime of experience that I hadn’t had time to live. I was more mature… I hope. And with that range of experience I was better equipped to deal with the nightmares and the memories.

That brought me to the point where my sister had to leave for Service and threw caution to the wind to make love to me. My heart stopped. I had a traumatic seizure and life escaped from my body. What brought me back? I’d like to thank a higher power, but I think it or they would have been just as satisfied to let me die. No, like the first time I died, my sister would not let go. And I promised her I would live.

How many times can a man die and return to life? It’s a question I hope never to have answered. Every day is precious to me and I will live it to the max.

I got back in my routine as quickly as possible. Up at five and go for a run. Only Em and I had been driving to a park to run and now I had to run from the house. By the time I got to the park, I had to turn around and run home. It wasn’t as nice a run but I was determined to keep getting better and stronger. I still had a bit of a catch in my right leg.

So, Thursday, I was surprised when a VW Beetle pulled up alongside me about a block from my house. The window was down and a woman I vaguely recognized as also being a runner in the park stuck her head out.

“Hey! Where’s your running partner?” she asked.

“She had to start National Service,” I said. “Now I have to run from home instead of going to the park to run.”

“Oh, that’s too bad. I go over every morning. Want a lift?”

“I… uh… have to be back in time to get ready for summer school.”

“No problem. I never spend more than an hour on workdays. Now, weekends are a different matter. Come on. I’ll get you home in plenty of time.”

Never get in a car with a stranger. Hah! What was she going to do, rape me?

“I’m Jacob Hopkins,” I said when I was buckled in.

“That sounds familiar. You live close?”

“You picked me up just a block from my house.” I looked at her, assessing her fit trim body. She was definitely in her forties but I’d seen her stretching for her runs in the park and knew she was powerful.

“Nanette Schwartz,” she said. “I’ve seen you running all summer. If you want to continue to run in the park, I don’t mind taking you over and back.”

“That would be great, Nanette. I know I’ve seen you. You look really familiar.”

“Yeah. Probably just from passing on the trails. If you don’t mind me being bold, I’d like to give you some running tips,” she said when we got to the parking lot. I started stretching, keeping in mind being gentle with the stretches like Jock told me to do before I was warmed up.

“That would be great,” I said. “I’m pretty new at it. Still recovering from an accident.”

“That’s why the limp. I see.”

“I thought I was getting past limping,” I said. I needed to work on that some more.

“It’s noticeable in the jog. That’s what alerted me. Jogging is harder on the knees than either walking or running. What I’m going to suggest is that you lengthen your stride. Don’t speed up, but stretch your leg in front of you so you are running and not pounding straight down at a jog. It will take a little getting used to, but it will improve your stride and get rid of the limp,” she said.

“Wow! You know a lot about this,” I said as we headed to the trail.

“I’m a physical therapist and a marathon runner. It’s my business to know about this.”

“That’s it!” I said. “You helped me when I was in the hospital, back in September and October.”

“Really? I’m sorry, but I see a lot of clients each day in the hospital and they aren’t usually there long enough for me to really get to know them.”

“Me especially, since I couldn’t move anything. I was pretty banged up with two broken arms and a broken leg. It’s taken me this long to feel like I’m almost all healthy again.”

“Oh! I remember. Tangled with a bus. No one expected you to live. Now you’re running? Way to go.”

“Thanks. It’s nice to meet you again, Nanette.”

“Well, I need to get my five miles in. You watch your stride and work on stretching out into a run. I’ll see you back here in an hour.”

That was my first introduction to my new daily running partner and the first day I started to actually run.

At last we were in the final four days of Algebra II. Ms. Stierwalt had kept a steady pace throughout the summer and we were going to finish the entire course on Thursday. If I never saw another math book, it would be fine with me. Of course, that wasn’t going to happen. I was trying to pack five years of high school math into three years. If we held things together, Rachel and I would enter Pre-Calc/Trig in the fall.

I continued my morning runs with Nanette picking me up, giving me some training tips, and then taking off on her own hour-long workout. And my mileage was increasing along with my stride. Nanette was training for a big Labor Day race and was pushing me to run it as well. There was a 5k race in addition to the longer one that she’d run. I could run the distance now. She was a good coach and I didn’t mind watching her backside as she ran past me.

And then there was Friday. No more classes. Rachel and I didn’t make a big deal about it to our families. We somehow forgot to mention that we no longer had class. Friday morning, she picked me up at seven-forty-five just like always. And then we headed straight back to her house and to her bed.

“We survived,” she said. “I’m not happy to have spent my entire summer in a classroom instead of lying out getting a tan, but we survived.”

“You know, I’d hate for this pretty skin to get damaged by the sun. If you were lying out, I’d probably have to stand where I’d cast a shadow and just look at you,” I laughed. The caress of that skin did as much for my senses as for hers. “You aren’t mad at me for doing summer school, are you?”

“No. We have managed to see each other every day all summer long,” she said. “I’ve just missed this.” She stroked my cock and pulled me down to kiss her as she swept it though her juices.

“This has missed you,” I said. “Quickies in the back seat aren’t my idea of great sex.”

“It has shown us that we can do more than sex together,” she sighed as I pressed into her. “But doing sex together is just as important. Hold there deep inside for a minute. Is it too difficult to lie still when you’re in me?”

“Do you realize what you’re asking?” I whispered giving her little kisses as I stayed lodged as deep in her as I could press. The heat of her pussy pulsed around my cock. “Is it too difficult for me to rest in my favorite place in the world? Too difficult for me to take the time to adore my lover? Too difficult to soak up the love I feel from you? Rachel, the day it is too difficult for me to love you, they should finally bury me.”

“I like where you’re buried right now. Slow. Out. In. Like the first time.” I slid back as she guided me, feeling the delicious sucking at my cock as I withdrew and then pressed back into her. It had been like that the first time and we’d seldom had the time and opportunity to make love in such a long leisurely fashion since then. My teen body wanted to jackhammer to climax but the slow strokes would build us both to an earthshaking orgasm when it came. And this was Rachel. As I looked into her green eyes, I fell ever more deeply in love with her. It was easy for my eighty-year-old inner self to imagine being with her for a lifetime. Or more.

The intensity built and Rachel found her release point before I did this time. I kept the even strokes, even though torturous, through her orgasm and she began to mount again. This time I was with her and felt a flood pour out of my body through my cock. But like the first time, I kept stroking at that infuriatingly slow pace through the hypersensitivity in my genitals. My cock wasn’t going down as long as I kept sliding it into my lover and we both mounted again.

“I love you, Rachel. I love you forever.”

“I love you, Jacob. You are my heart’s desire.”

After that climax, we slowed. I stayed still inside her for as long as I could but nature had its way and I softened. I rolled to her side and we held each other as we slipped off to sleep. Six weeks of Algebra, seven hours a day, plus driver’s ed, plus another two hours of studying together. We were exhausted.

We woke up in time for a late lunch and giggled about having spent a day in bed sleeping.

“That time is as precious to me as the time we spend making love,” I said. “Rachel, I’m happy when I’m with you, no matter what we’re doing. When I’m with you and you’re naked, though, I admit being even happier.”

“Come back to bed, Jacob. We have time for more.”

Nanette picked me up Saturday morning a little later than usual—except she didn’t usually pick me up on Saturdays. They were her days for a ‘long run’, which meant she’d be out for three hours or so. Nonetheless, she’d told me to be ready to go at seven for a real treat.

“Don’t you need to do long runs more often than once a week to prepare for your race?” I asked.

“Yeah. Working sucks. I have to train and still be at the hospital by eight,” she said. “Twice a week, I do a second run in the evening, usually a good ten miles. Saturdays I focus on the real distance.” Real distance, to Nanette, was fifteen to twenty miles. But she had something special in mind for this morning.

“Thanks for bringing me out for a Saturday morning run. Where are we headed?”

“We’re headed to one of the great joys of running. A cross-country course.”

“Cool.” I looked out the window as she hit I-69 headed south. “Uh… Where are we going?”


“Just realized I got in a car with a strange woman who is taking me off to the woods to have her wicked way with me,” I laughed. “I hope.”

“My wicked way, my friend, is to make you run a full 5k through the country. It’s a running club event, so we won’t have the privacy for anything more wicked than running.”

Hope springs eternal.

We got to a church out between Ossian and Uniondale where a bunch of cars had pulled in, both there and across the road at the cemetery. The area was beautiful with rolling hills, planted fields, and woodlands. Before I got out of the car, Nanette handed me a packet.

“Get your number and your transceiver out. As soon as we have our bibs on, we’ll go sign in.”

“Number? Bib? What is this?”

“A race,” she laughed. “I belong to a private running club and we sponsor races all over the state. Some of them are road races, some trail races, and a few like this one are true cross-country races. You’ve been working hard and stretching your gait. You need to feel what it’s like to let go and fly through the fields.”

“I don’t think I’m going to win any races.”

“That’s not what it’s about, Jacob. It’s about feeling the wind, breathing the country air, and connecting with the ground beneath your feet. Come on. Let’s sign in. The race begins in fifteen minutes.”

It wasn’t a huge event. There were probably thirty or forty runners and I was welcomed as Nanette’s protégé.

“Jacob, I didn’t expect to see you before school starts,” a voice said from behind me. I turned.

“Jock! Are you a member of this running club?”

“Yes. When cross-country season starts, I like to be able to push my guys by running with them. Can’t do that if I don’t keep in shape.”

“That’s great. Nanette has been working with me a little and thinks I’m ready to join in a race. I’ll probably be last, but it looks like fun.”

“Don’t worry about the places. Just get on the trail and watch for flags. If you see a red flag, follow the trail to the left. If you see a yellow flag, the trail goes right. Blue flags mean to keep going straight. You’ll enjoy this.”

“Yes, sir. Okay.” I was in a race. We lined up three deep and across a space of fifty yards. I was in the last row and off to the right. Nanette had checked to make sure I was good and then lined up two rows ahead of me. And then the starter fired a pistol and everyone started running toward the trail a hundred yards ahead of us. I just followed along and tried not to step on anyone or get stepped on.

And then I was running. It was awesome. I just lifted my head, focused on keeping my stride even, and ran. It was over before I knew it. Three miles and I did it in thirty-five minutes. Wow! Of course, Nanette and Jock were both waiting at the finish line and had been for fifteen minutes, but I’d run a race!

“That’s great, Jacob,” Jock said. “Cross country practice starts next Saturday at nine in the morning at the school track. I expect to see you there.”

Chapter 49

“I walked into adventure and adventure has given me blisters.”

—Andrea K. Höst, Stray

WAIT. SO, YOU GOT IN A CAR with this woman you’ve been working out with for two weeks, she drove you to a church out in the country someplace, and you ran a 5k cross country race? And Coach Jock was there to run, too, and enlisted you to run cross country on the school team. Have I got it right?” Rachel asked. We were just lazing in her living room with Richard and Pey watching movies. Mom was making sure I was ‘occupied’ during the time before school so I didn’t get in trouble. Rachel was in the same boat with Richard so we decided to just do our babysitting together.

“That’s pretty much it. Em and I saw Nanette running at the same time as us a lot. It wasn’t like she was a total stranger. Besides, even though we hardly knew each other, she was one of my physical therapists at the hospital. She’s a great runner and placed first in her age group at the race. She’s been giving me pointers and helping me get my running on track.”

“And she’s cute? She’s the first person outside our little group that I’ve heard you so enthusiastic about. Are you going to bring her home to meet the girlfriends?” Rachel asked as she punched me in the shoulder.

“It’s not like that. She’d never give me a second look. She’s… older. I mean, she’s cute in that forty-year-old way and I like her a lot. But you don’t need to be concerned about any inappropriate behavior. Really, she’s in the same class as…”

“As…?” Rachel prodded.

“Well, there are other attractive older ladies that I like a lot. None of them would ever give me a second glance,” I said. Besides, I was happy just being with Rachel and in a week, Desi would be home for a week and then Joan. And I had dance lessons with Brittany this week. And… And I just wasn’t going to tell anyone about how attracted I was to older women. Most girls my own age—my physical V3 age—I still thought of as little children. I’d just suspended my guilt in the case of one. Or four.


“Really? Well, Ms. Levy, for example.”

“Hell, yes! I want to be with you!”

“Rachel! Are you serious?”

“I know we have to be really careful about that stuff. Until we’re eighteen and out of school, we have to keep the relationship strictly professional, but you could make sure she knows we’re interested. You know. Put it in a story she’s editing for you,” Rachel said.

“Wow. Um… Wow.”

“Who else?”

“Oh. Uh, you know there are some people who I see and feel like I already know them. It’s weird. Like they were part of some alternate past I had. It’s really weird.”


“Brittany’s Aunt Sophie. She likes to dance and she’s hot.”

“You’re going to Brittany’s for another lesson this week, aren’t you?”


“Watch her closely. Is she signaling anything other than teaching you to dance? She’s hot? Like Brittany?”

“Well, Brittany is really cute, but she’s also really young, and she’s a quarter Latina. Sophie is half Latina—Brittany’s mother’s sister. And yeah. Maybe it’s just the dancing, but she turns me on,” I admitted.

“Don’t pass up opportunities, Jacob. When possible, loop us in. You know, your girlfriends like to play.”

“Does that go for you, too? You won’t be passing up opportunities?” I asked. My heartrate accelerated like I was ready to defend my territory. Rachel was mine. No one else’s.

“Jacob? Honey, don’t make up things that have no basis. You know how much all the girls like to play with each other. Other guys? Not right now. When I’m all the way across the country in National Service? Who knows? That’s why we all want to be accepting of each other and the kind of relationships that develop. We want to be able to come back together.”

“I know,” I sighed. “I’m sorry I get jealous. I’m just so much in love with you…”

“See? That’s what I mean. This summer, I’m all you’ve had. You need to be occupied by some of our girlfriends and maybe others so you aren’t obsessed with any one of us. You know Desi will be back next week and want time with you. And Joan gets back the following weekend. Remember Joan’s sensitive nipples and clean-shaved pussy? I can almost smell her all the way from Chicago.”

“Rachel, you drive me crazy. Totally, stark raving mad. I love you.”

“I love you, Jacob.”

Wednesday evening, Mom, Dad, Pey, and I went to the Adams’s house for dinner and dancing. I guess Brittany’s family was used to entertaining. Their table extended far enough to accommodate all eleven of us with no difficulty and they just pushed all the furniture in the living room and dining room back against the walls when it was time for our dancing instruction.

Sophie was our teacher and had everyone, including her mother, lined up to show us steps. We worked on waltz first since the official Quince dance was a waltz. Joan and I had done some waltzing in our dance lessons, but we didn’t really have much opportunity to use the step at prom. Sill, V1 had taken ballroom dancing and, while rusty, I could comprehend all the instructions. A lot of the moves in a fancy waltz are similar to the moves in salsa dancing—like spins and turns. For that matter, I guess we used some of the same positions in swing dancing. The rhythms are different, though. Waltz is a three-beat even rhythm that stays the same with equal time spent on each foot. Salsa is a four-beat rhythm in which you step to three beats and then rest one. Suffice it to say, there was more than enough to keep us learning for a full two hours.

And then to rotate through partners and dance for another hour. I had to laugh at Dad getting a workout alongside Gomez. I really needed to find out Brittany’s dad’s real name. If I actually called him Gomez, he might get insulted.

Eventually, after dancing with Brittany, Lisa, Joyce, and Pey, I found myself with Sophie in my arms for some real salsa dancing. There are twenty-one forms or moves in salsa dancing and twelve more that are unique to Cuban salsa. The Sophie of V1’s timeframe taught him all thirty-three. And about fifty that we practiced only when horizontal and naked. This Sophie was significantly younger than her sister, Brittany’s mother. I figured in about her early thirties. Mr. and Mrs. Adams were closer to my parents’ age, just over forty. And when Sophie came into my arms, her eyes locked on mine. The intensity of their black depths held me mesmerized. The music started and there was nothing else in the room but my dancing partner. Anything I tried, she followed. Any subtle shift in her posture let me know what she was expecting next and I could lead her effortlessly. We ended the dance in a dip. I held her low, bending over her, our eyes having never broken contact.

“Brittany, you must come and dance a Cuban salsa with Jacob now. Did you notice? The secret was the connection. Let everything else in the room fade away but the music and your partner. Stay focused on him,” Sophie said. She must have realized she was still holding my hand and gave it a quick squeeze before pulling away. Hmm. Was that the kind of signal Rache was telling me to watch for? The signal in my slacks was pretty definite. Even Brittany noticed when she slid into my arms. Her eyes popped wide open and her breast heaved as I looked into her dark brown eyes and winked.

Pey was convinced that she could teach Richard salsa dancing and got frustrated that he wasn’t picking it up fast enough for her satisfaction.

“J! Help me. I want to dance.”

“Got you hooked last night, didn’t they?” I laughed. I’d been holding Rachel in my arms and showing her a few moves, too. “Okay. We’ll have a dance lesson. You guys game?” There was a general assent. “We start the same way you did, Pey. Fundamental waltz steps, just like last night. You can’t expect your partner to know everything you know the first time he tries to dance with you.” Pey huffed a little about having to start over but soon got into the rhythm, so to speak, and we had a good time. Rachel was surprised to find I had a complete selection of Strauss Waltzes on my iPhone playlist and that I could switch to some big band era waltzes as well. There was a subtle difference between the fast formal royal waltzes of Strauss and the slower big band ballroom dances, but we enjoyed them both.

“Now can we do salsa?” Pey begged.

“I think we should save salsa dancing for the next lesson. Aren’t you tired yet? We’ll do salsa steps tomorrow,” I said, flopping in a chair.

“Uh… not tomorrow,” Rachel said. “Big surprise tomorrow.” I looked at her and she held a finger to her lips. I maneuvered Pey and Richard outside with the lure of my quadcopter. As soon as they had it in the air and were taking remote selfies, I slipped back inside to have a little kiss with Rachel.

“What’s going on tomorrow?” I asked.

“Our mothers have been talking,” she giggled. “It seems our activities are not unknown to the parental units.” I jumped a little.

“You mean they know we are lovers?”

“We haven’t been that subtle about it,” she said. “Anyway, Mom is taking the afternoon off tomorrow and will take Pey and Richard to the waterpark. We can start our Friday night date at about one-thirty. In my bed.”

“I love you, Rachel. I was beginning to wonder if the parents were going to conspire to keep us chaperoned every second for the rest of the summer.”

“Mom expects us to act responsibly,” Rache said. “You’re on birth control, aren’t you?”

“Oh. Yeah. I got that implant thing when Em got hers.”

“I’m on birth control, too. I think that’s responsible. Jacob, I want you!”

“Oh, yes!” I kissed her with passion and heard an unmistakable click of a camera. We looked up to see the drone hovering just outside the door, focused on us. “Well, maybe not too responsibly,” I sighed.

We made love. We waited twenty minutes after Mrs. Evans took Pey and Richard to the waterpark. We held hands and talked about school registration, which would be next week. It would be August and summer was almost over.

We made love.

“Jacob, Joan will be back in town tomorrow.”

“Oh, yeah.” I stroked her skin, basking in the afterglow of a vigorous coupling. Touching her nipples and her navel and the hollow of her pelvis. Looking at the matted hair between her legs and plucking at it gently, fluffing it out from where it had been pressed down between us. Still loving her.

“Jacob? You know what that means, right?”

“What what means?”

“That Joan is back in town.”

I sighed. It meant that Rachel could no longer be my exclusive focus unless I broke up with our other four girlfriends. And that would mean heartbreak for all of us. And Rachel and I wouldn’t last through that kind of emotional shitstorm. Besides, deep down, I didn’t want to break up with anyone. I wanted to see Joan—something I didn’t think I’d ever say the first time I saw her. I wanted to see Desi, who would also be home Sunday night. And Beca. I felt my heart jump a bit when I thought of her. Of course, I had another dancing lesson with Brittany coming up and her party in just two weeks. I wanted it all. It’s just that I was so perfectly satisfied with where I was now.

“Maybe I’ll call Martin and go mess around with him.”


“Is that what it takes to get your attention?”

“You had my attention.”

“I love the kind of attention you are giving me, Jacob. Truly. But I need you to pay attention to what I’m saying.”

“I’m sorry, Rachel. I’ve been trying to ignore the fact that I’m going to have to split my time and not spend as much with you. And it’s not that I don’t love Joan or Desi or Beca or even Brittany. I do. It’s just so wonderful to only have you—to devote myself to you and to dream about forever. I suppose Joan will get to town tomorrow and immediately want to go out and probably to fuck. How’s that supposed to make me feel? Excited? Hell, yes. I’m fifteen years old and Joan has one of the slickest, hottest pussies I’ve ever known. And besides, I like her. She’s smart and funny. I want to date her and make love with her. I just don’t want to lose you, Rachel. I don’t want our relationship to suffer.”

“It won’t suffer because of Joan, Jacob. I’ve got news for you. When you go off to see Desi the next night, I’m going off with Joan. And I mean going off literally. Maybe it’s a different world than our grandparents knew, but it’s our world and we can make it what we want.”

28 July 2019

I’m not fast at a lot of things. Running cross country is just one of them. I met Jock and about twenty others at the track Saturday morning at nine, ready to have a nice run. Fuck no. Jock had a whole regimen of exercises and short runs he wanted us to do. Almost everyone was better at everything than I was. Including the girls.

That was another surprise. Cross country practice runs girls and boys together. We don’t race together. There are separate races by gender, just as the race I went to last week had separate age categories. But we all train together and there is just one coach and a couple of assistants. I felt bad for the girls because there were fifty of them competing for seven race slots while there were half that many boys. Most CC races allowed seven runners on a team, even though only the points of the first five were counted for the team. I guess high school boys were more into team sports like football and basketball than cross country. In the spring, track gathers a pretty good team, but even though individuals compete in their events, there are a lot of team events, too. That’s my assessment. For what it’s worth.

When we finally got to the point where we ran eight laps on the track, I was past my peak for exercise. I was faster than two of the girls who ran the two miles. Everyone else was ahead of me. Jock told us not to worry about places and speed yet. He was keeping everyone on the team and would rotate runners. I guess there will be some races in which we’ll all run.

Another thing I’m not fast at is Joan. And it turned out that was good.

“Mother, of course, wants to spend time with her daughter,” Joan said as we sat outside. She’d come over about three in the afternoon and we just went into the back yard. We had a porch swing on the back deck and we sat next to each other, just drifting back and forth, holding hands. “And it’s not like I don’t want to spend time with Mom. You only see the cougar side of her. She’s really a kind and loving parent. Especially when we’ve been separated for the summer. I just have so many things I feel I’ve missed this summer. I’ve missed you, Jacob. I’ve missed Rachel and Desi and even Brittany. And I’ve missed Beca. Really a lot. I wish she was home now.”

“It wouldn’t have helped much to be here with Rachel and me,” I volunteered. “Summer school was a bitch. Desi and Beca are still gone. We haven’t seen much of Brittany except my two dancing lessons with her family. I bet you did lots more exciting things in Chicago than we did here.”

“Like making love?” she sighed.

“We’ve had precious little of that. But I’m glad you are back.”

“Do you want to make love with me?” Joan asked. “Still?”

“Yes, sweetheart. But we don’t need to rush into it. I want to hear more about your summer in the city. I feel like we didn’t have a summer here at all, so I want to hear all about yours.”

“You mean that, don’t you? You really want to talk and not just get me naked. I love you, Jacob. I was… sort of afraid. Afraid that all you really saw me for was sex. Beca told me I was being stupid, but still… I’ve missed talking to you.”

She told me all about her time at the College of Arts, refining her computer graphic skills. She showed me half a dozen different websites she’d designed. Her father had grilled her about her ‘boyfriend’ and had been shocked to find she had four girlfriends, too. He’d taken her to Cindy’s Restaurant on the roof of the Chicago Athletic Association and talked for hours while they looked out over Millennium Park and Lake Michigan. She felt like she’d been grilled and served for dinner, but also like her father really cared and was concerned about her.

“I followed up three weeks later,” she giggled. “Took Dad to Beatnik On The River. It’s a cool restaurant with a Bohemian atmosphere, a little less formal than Cindy’s. I prepared for two weeks with a list of questions for my father and it was my turn to get to know him better. I’d asked before why he left us, so I tried to focus on things that would let me know more about him as a person instead of him as my father. Like what kind of music did he like and could he dance. That kind of thing. It was really hard being away all summer, but I still felt like it was the best summer in Chicago I’ve had.”

“That’s great. You know, we should all learn to know our parents better, I think. I make a lot of assumptions about mine. Dad has surprised me a couple of times this spring. I should take him out to dinner.”

“He wants to meet you.”

“My dad?”

“No. Mine. My father wants to meet the boy I fell in love with. And the girl. He wants to meet Beca, too.”

“Oh, wow.” I had visions of a parental interrogation. Rachel’s parents, and even her little brother, had integrated with my family effortlessly. They’d even arranged to be away while Rachel and I ‘acted responsibly.’ Desi’s parents had been complicit in leaving us alone together, even while we were changing costumes. Brittany’s parents were active participants with my family in teaching me both how to dance and how they expected me to treat their daughter. Beca’s mother—she was always cordial and welcoming, but also on guard against anything that might damage her daughter. I wondered how she felt about Joan. Well, I guessed getting to know Joan’s father wouldn’t be a bad thing. Entirely.

We kissed a little while we talked but never really made out or petted. We’d be getting together again on Sunday when she’d had a chance to spend time with her mom.

Chapter 50

“I assert nothing, I content myself with believing that more is possible than people think.”

—Voltaire, Micromegas

“ARE YOU HOME? Can you talk?”

“Yes! How are you? Where are you? I’ve been thinking about you non-stop.”

“Really? You don’t have enough girlfriends to keep you occupied?”

“Em, no matter how many girlfriends I have, I will always have you on my mind.”

“I so wanted to hear that, J. They gave us our phones back this afternoon and I was afraid I’d miss you.”

“Is it hard?”

“I was going to ask that,” she giggled. “Yes, training is hard, but not that bad. I guess it’s pretty rough on the ones who aren’t in shape. We aren’t required to reach the same level that military basic does. Those who choose military after our basic training still have to go through basic for their branch of service. It’s pretty clear who is going that route and who is trying for a desk job.”

“So, where are you?”

“Oh. They sent me to Camp Mosquito in Minnesota near Duluth. I’m glad I’m here in the summer instead of winter. Keep that in mind when you pick your start date. The biggest hardship is mosquitoes. The real name is Camp Mesabi. There was a lot of crying when we got here and people realized that the six buses we boarded at the intake center each headed to a different training camp. No matter how many times we were told, people just didn’t get the fact that they wouldn’t be going to the same place as their friends. We were just given a boarding card with our bus number when we signed in and went straight to the bus.”

“Geez. They really do their best to make it bad for you, don’t they?”

“It seems that way at first, but I’ve adjusted. I only saw a couple of people I knew at the intake center, so I just figured I’d be alone. Not being able to talk to anyone back home and not being able to use social media has been the hardest. But they buddied people who were having a really hard time with people who were adjusting okay. Sometimes, I’d like to strangle the brat I’m stuck with, but she’s improving. I miss you, J.”

“I miss you, Em. It seems like we have so much to talk about I don’t know where to start.”

“Summer school? Did you succeed?”

“Yes. Rachel and I both passed our session with good grades and will be able to register for AMA/Trig this week. It was exhausting. And I passed drivers’ ed.”

“Well, if you go into my room—er, Pey’s room, with her permission—you’ll find the key to the Prius in my bedside drawer. Have Mom take you for some drives in it. If I don’t need it when I get my NSO assignment, you can use it while I’m gone.”

“That’s sweet, Em. I’ll take good care of it.”

“You better.”

“What are you going to be doing when basic is over?”

“Good question. It looks like I’ll land someplace in logistics, but after they determine my aptitude and approve the area, I could be assigned to any aspect of the supply chain.”

“Supply chain?”

“Could be buying, scheduling, shipping, supply, or anything that has to do with project management and coordination. I’d have to start at the bottom like everyone else, but they have tracks for lower and middle management that I think would be right up my alley. We’ll see.”

“I guess all you can do is whatever they say,” I said.

“Exactly. I may not be in the military, but an order is an order and you go where you’re told. If they wanted to, they could send me to Alaska to buy fish from Eskimos and that’s what I’d do for two years. While structure and discipline are good, the whole process is really demotivating.”

“Geez. Sounds like the government just took all eighteen-year-olds and turned them into slave labor.”

“Pretty accurate description,” she laughed. “Um… J? How are you? I mean… you know, dreaming.”

“I won’t say the nightmares are gone but it’s different now. Now that I know what causes them, I deal with it better. I pull myself out before I sink too deep. I’ve only had a couple. Both times, I’ve stopped them by thinking of making love with you. I love you, Em.”

“Oh, I love you, too. I miss you so much. It’s like I just realized what I really want in life and then I had to leave. Will you still love me when I get back? Like that?”

“I will love you forever.”

“Um… maybe we could get together with your girlfriends when I get a week off after specialty training. You know… sort of get to know each other better.”

“Em, Rachel has already said it clearly: You are one of us.”

Joan and I made love. Sunday afternoon, we no longer felt like we’d been parted for two months and desperate to get back together. We’d taken it easy enough for the two hours we were together on Saturday that we could just relax and joke with Rachel at lunch. It still seemed strange to my eighty-year-old to have two girlfriends who got along with each other and even made plans to ‘get together’ soon while they were both touching and cuddling with me. After lunch, Rachel begged off Joan’s invitation to join us at her house for the afternoon and encouraged us to have fun.

“I want to join in,” Rachel said. “But first, you two should have a nice time to get reacquainted. You shouldn’t need to feel like your pussy is competing with mine, Joan. Go and get all the cock you can take. Believe me, it’s hard to get too much.”

That being said, Rachel gave us each a deep kiss that left us in no doubt that she’d join us sometime soon.

Once we got back to Joan’s house, we just relaxed into enjoying each other. We didn’t rush, but we were a little single-minded about what we were in her room for. We made love starting from the moment we walked through her house and found her mother was out for the afternoon. Just undressing that girl was enough to get me inspired to great things. I loved every minute of it and, based on the number of orgasms Joan screamed through, she loved it, too. God! She was so different from Rachel! And then she started whispering in my ear what she’d like to do when we were together with Rachel. Joan had me hard as a rock again in seconds. If Rachel had the same ideas, this was going to be a stellar year.

29 July 2019

I’m in love. I wonder how many times I’m going to start a journal entry with those words. I’m sure I’ve done it a dozen times already. But I can’t help it, really. I can’t make love to a woman I don’t love. And I’ve looked at this a dozen ways. Do I just fall in love with any woman I make love to? But I love Desi and Beca and Brittany. I haven’t made love to them. I know, though, that I love them enough to make love to them. Not that I will, but the love is there.

Joan is beautiful. She’s sexy and likes to show it. I love making love to her. But I fell in love with her first.

Not all at once. I thought she was a disgraceful slut when I first saw her. But she isn’t a slut, nor is she disgraceful. Her behavior… her weekly trolling was a defense mechanism. She went through so many guys precisely because she wasn’t a slut. And she showed us she was both clever and talented when we were working on our Human Geography project. She showed that she cared for us by putting forth some real effort, even when she didn’t expect any return from it. Did she have sex? Sure. Why shouldn’t she. I had sex with Francie before I fell in love with her. Why would I think a girl shouldn’t enjoy sex because it’s fun?

Rachel? Yeah. I have trouble with that. I have trouble with my eighty-year-old inside who lived in a different reality, if any at all. Can I disconnect my feelings enough to not get upset over it? While I make love with Joan and Desi and Em?

That old man might need to die.

Desi got into town late Sunday night and, of course, she wanted me to come over Monday afternoon. She had things for me to try on.

Her mom was still at the Ren Faire she was working that week in Missouri. But her dad brought her back for a few days so she could register for classes. He also came by to pick me up and had talked to Mom about me staying for dinner. Desi wrapped her entire body around me when she saw me. I nervously glanced at her father sitting in the car waiting for us but that didn’t stop her from laying a huge kiss on me.

When we got over to her house, she immediately led me to the basement workshop and started undressing me.

“Desi, I’m going over to Pacific Fabric to pick up those things your mother wants. She’s entirely out of gold braid and running low on a dozen other things,” her dad said from the stairs. I was in clear view of him and half naked as Desi worked on getting my trousers off. “Don’t get carried away. I’ll be back in an hour or an hour-and-a-half.” And then he was gone with his fifteen-year-old daughter undressing her fifteen-year-old boyfriend. I wondered if he knew about Desi’s auction and my bid.

As soon as she heard the door close, Desi stripped down to her panties. She already had most of my clothes off and finished the job by pulling down my boxers and freeing my erection. We spent a while making out and rubbing each other. She made sure I kept my hands outside her panties while we rubbed each other off.

“It’s still intact and I intend to keep it that way. But God! I wish we were sixteen tomorrow!”

After laying my cock between her generous boobs and stroking up and down until I sprayed her chest and chin, she got a washcloth and cleaned us both up.

“Now we have to try on these costumes,” she said. “Mom put them together from your measurements but if you’ve grown any—in addition to your cock—I’ll have to mark them for alterations.”

“What do I need more costumes for?” I asked.

“Indy Comic Con!” she said. “You promised.” Oh, yeah. I sort of remembered that.

“So, when is it and how is it any different than what we did in June?”

“PopCon is all genres, so you get comics, movies, TV shows, and books. You get a lot of Star Wars characters, Harry Potter, and anime. Comic Con gets all that, too, but is focused on the comic book industry, including manga. And it’s all-ages. So, we have to tone down some of our outfits. You won’t see me doing Kill la Kill at Comic Con. There are areas that are adults only but we can’t wander around the show floor with my boobs hanging out.”

“Too bad. That was the high point of PopCon,” I laughed.

“Yeah. For both of us!” She handed me a pair of bikini-sized briefs and told me to put them on.

“Is this all I can wear under the costume?” I asked.

“Just enough to keep it from getting dirty,” she said. “Wait till you see what I have to go with this. Here, start with the leggings.” She handed me a pair of tights that had implants in them. That’s what I’d call it. They weren’t overblown, like a completely fake Batman costume. These just molded to my legs and sort of enhanced where muscles would be if I had them.

“Is this right?” I asked as I pulled at the green fabric.

“Yeah. I wasn’t sure if you had added enough muscle to your legs yet to make this work without the inserts. But they look perfect. Try the shirt.”

It was a pullover made of stretchy material and had inserts that enhanced my torso. The way it looked, I should be stiff as a board but Riko had made it very flexible and while I looked like I had a plastic six-pack, it moved with me as if it was my own musculature. Next, Desi helped me into boots, gloves, and a collar. It was really pretty cool. I almost felt like a superhero. But there was still a helmet style headdress to put on and that finished the look.

“Wow!” I said, looking in a mirror. “This is awesome. Who am I supposed to be?”

“Vision,” Desi answered. “He’s an android superhero who fights with the Avengers. Now hold onto this as I get it on.” She needed the help. Her red leather bathing suit kind of thing was a little stiff, which hefted her cleavage up and together.

“This is PG?” I asked when I surveyed the leotard and acre of skin it didn’t cover.

“Nothing’s exposed. Or even really hinted at. And with the boots, it will be a knockout.” I helped her get the thigh-high matching red leather boots on and then red, over-the-elbow gloves and a red partial helmet.

“God! You look great!”

“I’m the Red Witch, who is very fond of the android, Vision. They work with the Avengers to get rid of Ultron. We will knock ’em out with these costumes.” I looked at the two of us in the big mirror and turned Desi in my arms to kiss her again.

“This is fun,” I said.

“Right. We’ll give this costume a go. Help me strip. We’ll try our day two costumes.” Getting Desi out of her costume was more fun than getting her into it. We took plenty of time to play. I was getting to enjoy the whole cosplay thing. Desi got us straight into the next costume.

The next day, Rachel, Joan, Desi, Brittany, and I all went together to register for classes. Most of our schedule was set before we got out for the summer, but we’d had some changes. I didn’t get out of cross-country practice until ten, so that was when we all got together.

“So, you get up to run with your hot physical therapist running partner at five and then you come to practice running at eight-thirty?” Desi asked. “What happens when school starts?”

“Um… I’ll run in the morning and have cross country after school,” I said. Rachel frowned at me.

“Every day after school? When we could be doing other things?” she said.

“Together,” Joan added.

“Just for a couple of months. The season is over in October.” None of my girlfriends were enthusiastic about my athletic ambition. “Look at it this way,” I tried again. “I’m getting stronger. Stronger legs mean that I can dance longer with each of you.”

“Like today?” Brittany asked. “Your legs are still shaking. Are you going to be okay to dance at my party? You aren’t going to be too tired, are you?”

“No! No. I mean… There’s a meet that morning but no guarantee that I’ll even compete. I’m still the slowest runner on the team, you know?”

“If you don’t get to compete, why run?” Joan asked. I groaned.

“Do you have your PE credits in, Joan? You’re a senior and you have to take a gym class this year.” She nodded at my assessment. She wasn’t happy about getting sweaty at school, though she didn’t mind it when we were naked together. “I took a semester of PE last year as part of my physical therapy. This semester I get a full semester PE Waiver for running cross country. Unless they put the new four-year PE requirement in effect, I’ll be done with PE. And if they do put it in effect, I can continue to get credit for cross country in the fall and track in the spring. If I want to, I mean.”

“Joan? Maybe we could study together after school sometimes,” Rachel said. “In my room.” I’m not sure Joan had fully accepted the idea that she was bi-sexual. But she didn’t object when Rachel reached for her hand.

“Um… That would be… I guess I could ask Beca if it’s okay.”

“Yeah. She might want to study with us, too,” Rachel laughed.

I got my class schedule set, including registering for my PE credit. Rachel and I switched our registration for the fall from Algebra II to Pre-calc/Trig with no problems since we aced the summer school course. Beca and I had been invited to AP US History after our Human Geography course last spring and signed up for that right away. I also managed to get Honors English with Ms. Levy. She was the only teacher from last year that I would have again this year. In a school our size, most lower level teachers only taught one subject, six times a day. Since Ms. Levy had the Honors section, she had three sections of freshmen and three of sophomores. Brittany would be in that class with me. My other teachers would be new to me. At least Desi would be in my Intro to Entrepreneurship and I thought with her family’s support we should have a lock on that class. I was still making up credits from the partial work first semester freshman year, so I had seven periods of classes with no study hall. I was beginning to feel the pressure.

Oddly, the two classes I looked forward to the most were probably the least popular classes in the entire school. I had no foreign language my freshman year. V1 remembered a little German and a little Spanish but not enough to count. Our school required three years of a foreign language or two years each of two different languages. I only had three years left. The surprise was that I took Latin. One of the things I’d noticed in my reading career was that classical authors all knew Latin and it seemed to affect the way they wrote. It certainly makes a guy sound smart when he tosses off a phrase in Latin. So, I’d be taking three years of the language.

I had to have two fine arts credits and was enrolled in Music Theory and Composition. Vinnie had been working with me on reading music and I found myself often sitting alone in my room late at night, just picking at my guitar and experimenting with what I’d learned. V2’s muscle memory was beginning to meld with V3’s new head knowledge and I loved playing the guitar. I had a thought that I might want to compose some of my own music.

We all went out together that evening, including Brittany. Her father had agreed that she could join the group of friends since her quinceañera boyfriend would be there and under the condition that Aunt Sophie drive her. It was just dinner at Red Robin, but it was interesting having Sophie join right in. I was sure she was in her thirties, but she talked and acted much younger. I caught Rachel’s eye and she winked at me.

“Sophie, what do you do in the real world that has you free to join a bunch of teens for the afternoon and evening?” Rachel asked.

“I’m a dancer. And I’m recovering from an injury for a few months before I return to New York,” she said. “It’s just lucky that I could be here for Brittany’s quince. And to meet you.” I think Rachel felt the smoky intensity of Sophie’s gaze as they talked—a conversation soon reduced to whispers with several glances over at me while I tried to keep my focus on Joan, Desi, and Brittany.

I sure miss Beca.

Chapter 51

“I’m just a Teenager with hormones running wild and may I say, young fairy lady, they’re running wild in your direction.”

—Eoin Colfer, The Atlantis Complex

I WAS UP AT FIVE and Nanette pulled to a stop long enough for me to jump in her car and we headed for the golf course. Sections of the course had cart paths, but they mostly led between one green and the next hole. Those were routes everyone took. Getting up and down the fairway took people all over. But there was a path on each side of the fairway that was groomed and the carts were supposed to use it. The key thing was that we could run on the whole trail at five-thirty in the morning. We were running in half-light. Sunrise wasn’t until six-thirty on August first and that’s when the first golfers would hit the links.

I was surprised this morning that Nanette didn’t take off at her usual pace and leave me to my own pace. The trail was wide enough for a golf cart, which meant it was wide enough for us to run next to each other. She didn’t seem to be in any great hurry, though we might have been going a little faster than normal pace. For me. And we just kept going until we’d clocked a full hour before walking toward the clubhouse to cool down.

“Let’s stretch. I want to find out how your muscles are developing,” she said when we reached a grassy spot near the parking lot. The grass was damp with dew but we were soaked with sweat, so that didn’t make much difference to us. She had me hold her leg straight and press it back as she lifted it. Just usual running stretches.

Only there was something unusual about it. Nanette’s normal running wear was like Em’s—Spandex that clung to her every curve and made it such a joy to run behind her. Only the shorts Nanette wore this time were similar to mine and were what V1 thought of as gym shorts with a loose-fitting leg. These were from Nike, which I knew because there was a logo just at the hem of the shorts that I looked down at when I lifted her leg.

Fuck! Nice view! I mean, it wasn’t as if I could see up the leg hole to her pussy or anything. That part of the fabric stretched tightly over her cleft, but the back of her leg was bare all the way to her butt ledge. We held the stretch for a count of ten, three times before switching legs. Then we switched positions and she lifted my leg. Other parts of me had risen as well and I was sure she was aware of them as she looked down my leg. And it didn’t get better. She was especially interested in my right leg to see how my muscle had filled out since my accident. She felt all up and down it and then compared it to my left leg. She had to shift over a bit and slipped on the wet grass.

Nanette didn’t exactly fall on top of me. Quite. She released my leg when she lost her balance and I dropped it to the ground suddenly. That served to shift both of our bodies and increase her forward momentum. We both acted instinctively and she put her hands down to catch her weight beside me while I put my hands up to keep her from falling on top of me. I caught her in a three-point landing. My hands were on her boobs and my cock poked at her pussy.

And we froze there. Her eyes locked on mine and she didn’t scramble to get away from the embarrassing position. There wasn’t much I could do as I was supporting her weight in my hands. She ran in a sports bra top and the modest mounds it contained felt soft and very squishy. She shifted a little and my cock rubbed against her crotch. Finally, she pushed away with her hands and just before I lost contact, I gave her boobs a little squeeze.

Hell. I’m fifteen and I have a tit in each hand. What else am I going to do?

“Well, that was… interesting,” she said as she regained her balance and gave my leg a little pat. She stood and offered me her hand so I could pull myself up. Not that I couldn’t have done that myself, but it was a nice gesture and told me more than words could have that she wasn’t upset. “You’re a good-looking guy, Jacob. And good company. If there was just a little less age-gap, I’d want to do some exploring with you. For now, though… well, better just enjoy what we have.”

I didn’t usually shower between my five-thirty run and my nine o’clock CC practice. What’s the point? I did this morning. I replayed that little slip and the feel of her breasts in my hands and her soft center pressing against my prick. My prick seemed to enjoy it a lot.

Riley and Desi picked me up at five that evening to go to dinner. I was going over to their house afterward to try on the adjusted costumes and make plans for our Labor Day weekend in Indianapolis. Riley met with my parents and explained the program to them. I was surprised they agreed. He was going to pick Desi and me up from school on Friday before Labor Day and drive us to Indy. We’d perform and model costumes all day Saturday and Sunday. He’d drive us back on Monday. I was going to be with Desi in Indy for three nights.

Of course, we wouldn’t be together three nights. Riley made it clear that I would have the room next door to their family and would be supervised. Mom wanted to help pay for my adventure, but Riley insisted that I was volunteering to help model costumes and the room and board were his responsibility. He said having me working with Desi meant that he and Riko were free to sell more costumes and not worry about Desi being alone on the show floor. Whatever. I’d be spending three days in Indianapolis with the Whitcombs.

After dinner, we went to their house and Desi led me to the basement.

“Let me know if you need anything,” Riley said. “I have paperwork to take care of before Desi and I leave for the Ren Faire in Kentucky. Riko has been reminding me daily that I’m not there to help her set up our shop and she plans to find a wandering knight and reward him for his help by bestowing her womanly favors.” He laughed and I wondered how the heck he managed to live this life.

The idea of a Renaissance Faire in Kentucky boggled my mind. It was held someplace between Louisville and Lexington and I had visions of Shakespeare recited with a Kentucky accent. I guess culture has no bounds.

“Your mom and dad sure seem to be casual about allowing us… um… uninterrupted time together,” I said as Desi started stripping out of her clothes. It wasn’t like we had a bed or comfortable place where we could screw but they knew we helped each other in and out of our costumes and they had to know that Desi rewarded her wandering knight with her womanly favors. Didn’t they?

“Yeah. Probably looks strange to an outsider. And don’t think it’s because they don’t care. They do, but we have an understanding.”

“Tell me about it,” I gasped as she stroked my cock. I wondered if we even had any costumes to try on tonight.

“Mom and Dad are theater people. They grew up in a theater tradition. My grandparents on both sides met while performing off-Broadway shows that never made it big. But theater is a little more casual about issues of modesty. They are very protective of my modesty when it comes to anyone older, but they figure peers are different. And they know about our contract.”

Before I could react to my shock, Desi swallowed my cock and held it in her mouth until I filled it. I collapsed back into a chair and Desi immediately straddled my lap facing me. We kissed deeply as she ground her panty-clad pussy against my bare cock. I moved my face down and captured one of her nipples between my teeth and she began to whine as moisture seeped through her silk panties and slicked my cock. Desi had a strict rule about nothing but her own hand going inside her panties, but she didn’t seem to mind the help I was giving her movements by holding both her butt cheeks in my hands and rocking her back and forth.

“Oh, God!” I moaned as my second load of the evening began spurting between our bodies.

“Yesss,” she hissed. “So easy. It would be so easy to do it now.” She pushed away and stood up, looking down at her soaked panties and the mess on our stomachs. She looked at me intently and hooked her thumbs in the waist of her panties. Slowly, she worked them down, exposing a wedge of pubic hair and then her bare slit. It was shiny with her juices. “I’m still a virgin and intact,” she said. “I’m going to collect your bid after we both turn sixteen. Just thought you’d like to see what you bid on. Believe me; I’ll make it worth your two weeks of servitude.”

She pulled her panties back up and bent to kiss me again as I fondled her big breasts. Then we got dressed and went to find her father.

“We’re ready, Daddy,” she said. “Everything will fit fine.”

We hadn’t tried on any costumes, so I thought she might be talking about how we’d fit together.

August second was Pey’s birthday and she and Mom were going to Indianapolis for a girls’ bonding.

“You’re on your own today,” Mom said as they loaded in the car after my cross country practice. “Dad plans to go bowling this evening. I don’t know when we’ll be back. We’ll have the family celebration tomorrow morning.”

“That’s cool. I’ll probably hang out with Rachel this evening. Seems like we don’t see much of each other since summer school got out.”

“Act responsibly,” Mom said. Then she and Pey drove off. I called Rachel.

“Hey, sweetums,” she said when she answered the phone. “What’s up?”

“Um… well, I’m home alone for the day. Didn’t know if you had anything going on or not. Want to get together?”

“Really? What a coincidence. Dad and Richard are on a father-son camping adventure this weekend with the Scouts. I’m home all alone, too. Want to come over? We could get together.”

“Rache, any time I spend with you is time I treasure, no matter how we get together.”

“You say the sweetest things. Be here in half an hour.”

I showered and walked briskly to Rachel’s house. She opened the door wearing a fluffy bathrobe. Her hair was still damp from her own shower.

“I could have gotten here more quickly and we could have showered together,” I said as we kissed.

“I wanted to be fresh and clean when you got here. We’ll have another shower after we get all sweaty again,” she laughed. She pulled me by the hand to her bedroom. It was in typical disarray—not really dirty or anything, but looking just a little chaotic. We flopped on her bed and started kissing again.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of kissing you,” I sighed. Her robe fell open to reveal that was all she’d slipped on after her shower. She tugged at my T-shirt and we got it off with only a slight break in our kissing.

“I hope that’s true because I can’t cook.” We laughed and she nudged my shorts off, getting them past my feet by the expedient of hooking the waistband with her own foot and pushing. She pulled her arms out of the sleeves of her robe and we pressed our naked bodies together. “I love you, Jacob.”

“I love you so much, Rachel. I want to spend my life with you.”

“Make sure it’s a long one, please.”

“Yeah.” We kissed some more and petted each other. We weren’t rushing toward penetration, but we were definitely building up.

“You know that I’m probably as pretty as I’ll ever be?” she whispered. “I know girls who want to wait until they are more mature or more adult, but the things that change will take away the innocence and excitement of these little times we have together. I want to know that my body found all the excitement of growing up in every way and that when I’m old and fat and wrinkled, you’ll still remember me as a tight, pretty sixteen-year-old. I am tight, Jacob. Feel me.”

I felt her with the head of my cock as I pressed into her. Yes, tight but not uncomfortably so. I wasn’t fucking a woman who was too small and immature to accept me into her. She opened to me and pulled at me. Yes, she was beautiful and young, but no matter how old we got and how our bodies changed, I would think of her as this unbelievable sixteen-year-old I was making love to. And we weren’t impatient to discover everything possible. We were content to just make love with my cock sliding in and out of her vagina. Enjoying every second of being joined together. Francie had tried to work all the way through the Kama Sutra in just four months. Rachel and I were content to discover some small new thing each time we were together. There would be time for mindless fucking later. Maybe when we were with one of our girlfriends. But what I wanted more than anything was simply to be held in her arms while we were joined and making love.

“So how about going skating tonight,” I asked. I’d seen her roller skates the first time she brought me to her room but we’d never gone out skating together.

“You don’t want to just lie here naked and make love to me some more?” she asked impishly.

“I do want to make love with you some more. But I want to do lots of things with you and not feel like making love is all we do. Rachel, I love you and I want to share all of my life with you. I want you to share all of yours with me.”

“Does that mean you are going to tell me your deepest secrets?”

“I… um… already told you about my nightmares. And about making love with my sister.”

“Jacob… You don’t have to tell me but don’t pretend it doesn’t exist. Something else is lurking beneath the calm exterior of the boy I love. You have from now until we get married to tell me. And I promise I will be just as open with you.”

“You mean I don’t have to tell you after we get married?”

“No. I mean we will never get married until there are no secrets between us.”

“I promise, Rachel. Please, just let me figure out how to tell you without you thinking I’m crazy. All I can say right now is that I’m not dangerous and my secret is not a betrayal of you or anyone else. It’s entirely me dealing with who I am.”

“I love you, Jacob. We have time and I promise I won’t run away from you.”

Pey’s birthday celebration Saturday morning started with me making her favorite blueberry pancakes and bacon after my run. The sleepy girl came into the kitchen rubbing her eyes and still groggy from her big day shopping yesterday. I flipped a pancake onto her plate, stuck a candle in it, and started softly singing ‘Happy Birthday.’

“Thank you, J.”

“You still look all tuckered out, nine-year-old. You need to spend your birthday in bed?” I laughed, tickling her a little. She squirmed and blew a raspberry at me.

“You’re always happy in the morning when you see Rachel the night before.”

“That’s true, sweetie. Rachel makes me happy.”

“As happy as Em?”

I pulled up a chair opposite her and dug into my own short stack of pancakes.

“I miss Em every day, Pey. No one can ever take her place. But loving one person doesn’t mean you can’t love someone else at the same time. Why don’t we find out what Em has to say about it?”

“How? We can’t call her.”

“Ah, but she is smarter than the average sister,” I laughed. I was pretty sure Pey had no idea who Yogi Bear was. I thumbed my phone and tapped the message Em left for Pey last Sunday.

“…happy birthday to you,” she sang through the tiny speaker. “I miss you, Pey. My roommate at basic is nowhere near as nice as you. None of them are. I’m stuck in a room with nine other girls and I think some of them never shut up. You know what, though? When I plop down in my bunk, I close my eyes and reach out my hand. I can feel you take it on one side and I can feel J on the other. And I know that we are still together. Don’t let me being away stop you from having fun with your friends. And don’t worry about J with his. There’s enough love in our little family to include a lot more people. I love you, little sister. Happy birthday!”

“J, can I have it?” she asked. I figured out that she meant the message.

“I’ll forward it to you,” I said. “It’s pretty nice to have a big sister who thinks about us all the time, isn’t it?”

“I really miss her but I’m glad I have you. And I’m glad you have Rachel. And Joan. And Desi. And Beca. And Brittany. Geez, J. How many girlfriends are you going to have?”

“I’m done collecting. I just need to convince them of that. Speaking of which, we should have another dance lesson with your boyfriend soon.”

“Richard isn’t my boyfriend. He’s old. I’m going to fix him up with Brittany’s sister Joyce. That’s why he needs to learn to dance. She will be eleven next month. They’ll be in the same grade. I already told him.”

“And what are you going to do?” I asked.

“Wait for you to get a girlfriend who has a brother my age, silly. I’ll tell Beca when she gets home.”

“It’s just another week till she gets here. I’ve sure missed her.”

“Yeah. Your girlfriends don’t do things together as much without her.”

In addition to the breakfast, we had a little party for Pey at lunch and I was happy to see that she’d invited Richard and Joyce, even though most of the kids were a couple of years younger. I helped Mom and mostly tried to stay out of the way of the younger kids. Of course, right in the middle of eating birthday cake, Dad stuck out his phone to record Pey’s birthday statement.

“There are a lot of things that make it hard for people who love each other to be together,” Pey said. “I’m nine years old and miss my sister. So one day, I’m going to change the world so people can be together with the ones they love.”

After the party things had been cleared away, Joan came to pick me up. We made our way into the movie theater and settled into a backrow seat. The movie, Artemis Fowl, was rated PG, so there were a lot of kids in the theater.

“I loved the series of books. It’s hard to believe they started coming out before we were born,” Joan said as she settled next to me and lifted the armrest between our seats so we could get closer. “Do you mind if we mostly watch the movie?” she asked. Before I could respond, she kissed me so long and tenderly that the previews had started before our lips parted. “Mostly.”

“Yeah. Mostly,” I agreed.

That was a preview of Double Time. To read the rest purchase the book.

Add «Double Time» to Cart