F/Stop

Copyright ©2023 Elder Road Books

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission from the publisher.

Requests for permission to make copies of any part of the work should be submitted online to: Elder Road LLC, ElderRoadBooks@outlook.com.

Design by Nathan Everett

Cover photo by conrado, ID78516796 licensed from Shutterstock.com.

First eBook Edition

ISBN 978-1-955874-65-6

Note: This is a work of historical fiction. As such, names of historical characters, places, products, events, movies, and music have been used to set the context and reality of the time. But the story and characters are fiction. While much of the action is based on actual events or experiences, ultimately, it is all fiction. Perhaps it will entertain. Perhaps it will take you to a similar time in your own life. Perhaps in rare instances, it will enlighten.

Cast

ALERT: This book contains content of an adult nature.

This includes explicit sexual content and characters whose beliefs may be contrary to your religious, political, or world view. Scenes in this story may be triggers for Vietnam War era vets with PTSD.

The content is inappropriate and in some cases illegal for readers under the age of 18.

Characters Introduced in Full Frame, Shutter Speed, and Exposure who continue to have an important role in F/Stop. When ages are given, they are as of the end of Exposure, December 1, 1969.

Nate and Family

• Nate Hart. 20yo student at Columbia College studying photography. Operates the Attic Allure studio in a space over the top of Camera Warehouse in Chicago. Still has a lot of stuff in his space in Tenbrook. Has four girlfriends and messes around with his models.
• Kat Hart. 14yo brown-haired sister of Nate. Artist.
• Rev. Mother Superior Joyce Hart. Nate’s mother. United Methodist minister in Sage, IL. Also sometimes referred to by Nate as ‘Reverend Mother Superior.’
• Rich Hart. Nate’s father. Heating and air conditioning specialist commuting from Sage to Huntertown for work.
• Deborah and John Lindal. 27yo sister of Nate and her husband. They have two children, Cameron and Anthony. John served with Tony in Vietnam.
• Lt. Naomi Hart. 25yo sister of Nate, serving in the Air Force.
• Uncle Nate and Grace Mayer. Nate’s uncle and aunt. Nate is a freelancer for various people who need special services. Also acts as Nate’s agent.

Nate’s Extended Family

• Ronda May. 19yo blonde, former cheerleader. Nate’s girlfriend, even after Christine left them. Studying International Relations at University of Chicago.
• Dr. Joseph & Susan May. Ronda’s parents. Dr. May has supplied many Tenbrook girls with birth control pills.
• Danny May. 16yo brother of Ronda, possibly sweet on Julie Evans.
• Nora May. 24yo sister of Ronda, studying to be a veterinarian.
• Anna Marx. 19yo brunette. Almost 20. Nate’s first girlfriend after he moved to Tenbrook. Broke up and then returned to become a girlfriend again with the gathering family.
• Patricia Berg Kowalski. 20yo blonde classmate and model of Nate’s, and Tony’s widow. Now one of Nate’s girlfriends. Mother of Toni. Tony Kowalski was Nate’s best friend in high school and was killed in Vietnam less than a year after graduation.
• Antonia “Toni” El Kowalski. 1yo daughter of Patricia and Tony. Nate’s goddaughter.
• Elise & Tor Berg. Patricia’s parents. Live in Tenbrook.
• Ellie & Jim Kowalski. Patricia’s in-laws, Tony’s parents.
• Vanessa Kowalski. 15yo brunette. Tony’s younger sister.
• Elizabeth “Beth” “Starr” Marsh. 19yo (almost 20) comedienne girlfriend of Nate’s from Chicago. Has been on tour for five months.
• Nadia & Jordan Marsh. Elizabeth’s parents. Collectors of photography.
• Valerie Marsh. 24yo brunette. Elizabeth’s airline stewardess sister.
• Adele Peterson. Lesbian Domme now living with Elizabeth’s parents, Nadia and Jordan.
• Adrienne “Fifi” Baudelaire. 29yo blonde model (sent by Nate’s Las Vegas patron) who wants to be involved as his mistress. Very into Marquis de Sade. Lives in Los Angeles.

Attic Allure Staff and High School Models

• Christine “Chris” Evans. 19yo dirty blonde former girlfriend of Nate and Ronda. Purging away her perversions in college and engaged to be married.
• Judy Delap. 19yo former model, and classmate, and assistant at Attic Allure, Tenbrook. Studying costuming in St. Louis and still active with AA.
• Janice Graham Adams. 19yo former model and assistant at Attic Allure. She married Pete Adams and now has a baby.
• Pris Anson. 19yo former model and classmate, and assistant at Attic Allure, Tenbrook. Now an electrician in her family’s business.
• Debbie Faulkner. 19yo former model and classmate, and assistant at Attic Allure, Tenbrook. Now a grocery clerk at Piggly Wiggly in Huntertown.
• Cassie Robinson. 23yo black assistant at Attic Allure Chicago.
• Leanne Kim. 19yo member of Nate’s study group and assistant at Attic Allure Chicago. Studying makeup and costuming at Columbia.
• Theresa Newman. 19yo high school classmate in Chicago Nate once fantasized about. She’s now become his assistant at Attic Allure Chicago while attending Jr. College. Modeled under the name Nikita Bychkova.
• Lori Reynolds. 21yo Abe Lawrence Model. Started out with Nate in Tenbrook when she was a senior. Now engaged to Constable Stoney.

Chicago Models Working with Abe

• Abe Lawrence. Chicago modeling agent who sends models to Nate to photograph.
• Brittany Fleck. 22yo model working for Abe Lawrence.
• Brandi Flowers. 23yo model working for Abe Lawrence.
• Gwyneth Parsons. 21yo very thin model working for Abe Lawrence.

Other models and friends

• Carrie (Carolyn) Lockhart. 20yo student at Columbia and in Nate’s study group.
• Devon Young. 19yo. Nate’s freshman year roommate. Quiet gay cross-dresser. Dora Devine. Devon Young’s stage name as a drag queen.
• Leslie Lewis. 19yo member of Nate’s study group. Head of the “Whore Corps” at college. Studying fashion photography.
• Yvonne Renninger Sullivan. Business teacher at Tenbrook who also poses for Nate.
• Rose Thorne. 22yo showgirl from Las Vegas who was a test model from Nate’s patrons. She’s become a close friend of Elizabeth’s.
• Sandra Gottschalk. 17yo dirty blonde who has asked Nate to photograph her and record her growth and body changes over several years.

Other important people

• Brian Evans. 15yo brother of Christine. Sweet on Kat.
• Julie Evans. 16yo blonde sister of Christine. Kat’s best friend.
• Clyde Warren. Former Tenbrook Constable, dismissed for racism following Nate’s photos and Rich’s impassioned address to the Village Council. He then was hired as part of the Hunter County Selective Service Board where he manipulated calls to draft minorities.
• Allen White. Attorney preparing class action suit against the draft board.
• Lowell Graves. Attorney representing Nate against the draft board.
• Edna Ludwig. Middle age librarian in Tenbrook. Devoted to helping young women.
• Jim Stoneburner. Retired army captain and Vietnam Vet, now Constable in Tenbrook. Engaged to Lori Reynolds.
• Levi Levinson. Owner of Camera Warehouse who provides space for Nate’s studio and has always gotten him equipment and supplies.
• Sylvia Drummond. Patron who had a kink photo sitting with Nate and then used the photos to punish her husband (his original patron), provoking him to an attack which got her bodyguard to kill him.

1
Winning the Lottery

MAY 7, 1970.

Thursday was a tough day, through no fault of our own. Anna took off for Rockford. Ronda and I walked with Patricia and Toni to daycare and then Patricia’s job. Then Ronda and I walked over to her campus. There were still some students ducking into classroom buildings, a little furtively.

“I hate to see people acting afraid to go to class because everyone else is out. It’s dividing everyone.”

“That’s not all,” Ronda said, pointing across the commons area.

A group was marching onto the commons with signs that disagreed with the prevailing tide. “Kill all Commie Traitors!” read one sign. “Honorable Peace Through Victory in Vietnam,” read another. I saw a couple of ROTC uniforms among them. I didn’t think they were supposed to do that, but what do I know?

“Open the school!” one person shouted.

“Open up! Open up! Open up!” the group chanted. It was hard to take them seriously as there were only twenty or thirty in the group. They stayed clustered close together and there were four or five police officers standing around them. It looked like they were expecting to be attacked.

I snapped a couple of pictures and changed to my 150mm lens so I didn’t need to get too close. There were ten times as many students off to our left holding protest signs and singing songs. They weren’t engaging with the counter protest.

Except one lone guy. He came right up to the front of the group and started handing them flyers. One of the policemen stepped between him and the group and tried to get him to leave. I took pictures of the confrontation, in which the leaflet guy was arguing with the policeman. He stepped away and reached inside his jacket. Somebody in the crowd yelled, “Gun!”

The police officer turned back to the leaflet guy and saw his hand in his jacket. He pulled his gun and shot the guy three times. The other police converged from the sides of the crowd as the mob cheered. The shooter was on his knees beside the body and opened the kid’s jacket. There was nothing there but a piece of paper.

I maneuvered in closer so I could get a straight shot of the officer over the body. Damn Chicago pigs. Now they come onto campus and shoot unarmed students.

Except this cop wasn’t one of the usual pigs. He was kneeling next to the body crying. I took the picture.

Like usual, I’ve raced off with what’s on my mind and left you far behind. You don’t even know who I am or why I was taking pictures of a protest with my girlfriend beside me. I guess I need to go back a few months to make sense of all this.

December 1, 1969

That was when the first draft lottery of the Vietnam War had just been held. I’d drawn number 233 and immediately burned my draft card. Then I passed out. I’d drunk an entire bottle of wine and smoked a couple of pipe loads. That’s where I was when Ronda got in from her Russian dinner study session for her final exam coming up in the morning.

Oh, I’m Nate Hart, photographer, studying art photography and photojournalism at Columbia College. I have four phenomenal girlfriends and I love each of them from the bottom of my heart. Ronda is living with me in Chicago and attending the University of Chicago. Anna is attending Rockford Business College in Rockford, Illinois. Patricia is living in Tenbrook with her daughter Toni, and driving into the city almost every weekend to be with us. And Elizabeth has been on tour as a comedienne since July, but will be back home in a few days.

There are other people, of course, but I’ll re-introduce them as the story progresses.

“Nate! Nate! Are you okay? What happened?” Ronda screamed as she shook me.

“Mmm. You look delicious. Come here and let me eat you.”

“Nate! You’re drunk!” She was surprised. I’d never even gotten really tipsy before. I was only twenty.

“Oh. Yeah. You’re right,” I said.

“Why? What happened?”

“Draft lottery,” I said.

“Oh, my God! I didn’t know it was tonight. You should have told me. I would have been here with you. Oh, God! Are we leaving? Do you need me to drive tonight? If we can wait until morning, I can have Patricia and Anna here. We’ve all been ready to run since the draft board hearing. I just didn’t realize tonight was the night. My God, Nate! We need to get you sober and out of here.”

“It’s okay, hon. I’m not going to be drafted. I got number 233. I drank a lot of wine while I was waiting.”

“Oh! Oh, that’s a relief. Are you sure that’s too high to be drafted?”

“They’d actually have to declare war on all of Asia before they get to my number,” I said. “Besides, I burned my draft card.”

Ronda looked at me with her mouth wide open. We’d talked about protesting on different occasions, but it had always been in terms of making a public statement. I’d burn it during a protest in Washington, or in Mayor Daley’s office, or in front of the draft board office in Huntertown. Now that I thought about it, burning it in private was pretty stupid. Who would ever know? In two years, no one had ever even asked to see it.

“Um… They’re not supposed to draft felons. So, if I get called, I’ll confess.”

“Nate, you’re an idiot. But I love you anyway. Oh, sweetheart, I’m so glad it’s all over. Come to the bathroom and take a shower with me and then make love to me. I love you so much. And I still should have been here with you. Patricia and Anna and Elizabeth should all have been here with you. What kind of family are we that lets our husband face that kind of thing alone? I should have gotten drunk with you.”

“Oh, Honey, I only got one bottle of wine. We could only have gotten half drunk together,” I laughed.

I thought that was pretty clever, but Ronda groaned and pushed me toward the bathroom. I guess I did stink. A shower was just what I needed.

I remember being in the shower and just touching Ronda as much as I could. She’d once called boys like that ‘octopuses’ and I guess I qualified. But damn! Her boobs are the most perfect in the world. She got me clean and my teeth brushed, and never once tried to stop me touching her. Unfortunately, when we got to bed, I passed out again.

I really didn’t feel like getting up in the morning. My head hurt. Ronda gave me a cup of coffee and a kiss and told me she’d see me tonight and not to get drunk again. I decided to cut class.

About ten, I called Cassie and was told I had an appointment at one-thirty, so I’d better get in to the studio. I groaned. Another member of the Whore Corps was coming in.

The Whore Corps. What a misnomer. They just wanted to be differentiated from the God Squad. Leslie, a fashion photographer in my study group, was the only one I thought might have loose morals. And even though we’d fucked in every possible position when I did her photo, I didn’t think she was really promiscuous. Carol, the second member of the Corps who came in for a photo, was a virgin. She got pretty excited when I got her naked, but we weren’t about to go all the way. This time, it would be Sue Renton. I’d seen her and probably spoke once. I knew she was a music major and in order to be in the Whore Corps, one of her parents had to be a teacher. Other than that, nothing.

I drank another cup of coffee and forced down some ham and eggs with a piece of toast. It was better. I showered and trimmed up a little. I was going to consider getting rid of the beard. Like my peace symbol, it seemed to make me a target for Nixon’s ‘great silent majority.’ More like Lederer’s Nation of Sheep if you asked me.

Well, what did I have to worry about. I didn’t even have a draft card anymore.

I met Sue Renton at the studio at one-thirty and had to admit that she was very pretty. She carried a violin case and I thought of the way we’d worked with the Las Vegas model who carried a recorder. I’d love to have a whole collection of beautiful nude musicians.

Cassie told me to call her if I needed something, but she was swamped with the month-end accounting. Leanne and Theresa were both unavailable, so I was alone in the studio with Sue. We sat on the couch to chat before we started work.

Sue wore a very professional suit that she could wear onstage in an orchestral performance. She had perfect makeup and her hair was pulled back. The suit had a white blouse and black jacket, and a long black full skirt.

“Well, I thought I’d use the opportunity to get a good professional portrait, you know?” she said. “I’ll be out on my own after spring semester and I’m circulating my resume and a reel of my music. So, I figured we could start with this outfit and a neutral background. Musician portraits are almost always with their instrument.”

“Let’s start there, then,” I said. “I think we’ll use the red backdrop. That won’t look red in the photo. We’re doing black and white. It won’t have the stark contrast to your outfit that white or light blue would have, though.”

I set up the backdrop and low stool while she got her violin and bow out. I remembered doing a shot a long time ago of a girl with her ‘fiddle.’ I wondered if there was a difference. I led Sue to the stool and we got started. I changed lighting a couple of times. It seemed the most important part of this would be to have a great picture of her face with an indication that she was holding her instrument. I adjusted the lighting a couple of times and really could have used Theresa or Leanne’s help.

“Tell me about how you feel when you are playing,” I said.

“Oh, when I’m in the orchestra, everything is focused on the music and the conductor. It all has to be perfect. A conductor and every critic in the audience will know exactly who in the orchestra struck the wrong note or held it too long. The musician is there to realize the music of the composer exactly as it is written and the conductor coordinates it.”

“It sounds very technical.”

“Yes, but that’s only the orchestra or concert. When I’m alone, I sometimes imagine my violin is my Prince Charming and I’m making love to him. I dance while I play, I sway, and I caress the strings.” She lowered her voice dramatically. “My first orgasm came while I was playing.”

“I would like to capture that,” I said. “I think we need something other than your black skirt and jacket for this. Something more fairy like.”

“Leslie said I would really be pleased if I just put myself in your hands. I was worried about that, but she said there is no fucking in the studio and you wouldn’t try to force yourself on me. If that’s all true, I’m yours to do as you please,” Sue said.

“That is a beautiful thing to say to me, Sue. I won’t abuse your trust. I find, though, that this is a two-way street. It needs to reveal your love affair with the violin. Let us say you were in your tower, waiting for your lover, your Prince to arrive. What would you be wearing?”

“Really? It would be something light and filmy so even Gervais could coax it off of me.”

“Gervais?”

“Oh. My Prince Charming. My violin is Gervais.”

“So happy to meet him. Let’s see what we can find.”

The girls had done a spectacular job of finding or building gauzy gowns, knowing my predilection for light material that would blow in a fan breeze or drape revealingly across a bosom. I selected one that I thought would work well and then looked at Sue’s professional diamond studs in her ears. I saw this as being more a setting for something dangly. We’d put in a collection of costume jewelry of all kinds. We’d even brought a few pieces back from our last trip to Stratford. I chose a pair of earrings and took her behind the privacy screen.

“Now, let’s get you changed,” I said, casually taking her jacket off and hanging it on the rack. She caught her breath at the implication that I was going to help her change her clothes, but didn’t say anything when I found the zipper of her skirt. “I’d like to do a couple of things with your accessories. Would you mind trying these earrings?”

While she leaned forward to remove her studs and fasten the new earrings, I simply reached around her and unbuttoned her blouse. As soon as her hands were free, I pulled the blouse off and hung it to join the skirt and jacket.

“Can we take your hair down a bit?” I asked. “Is it long enough for a ponytail?”

“Yes. You don’t want it just falling around my shoulders?” she asked. I removed the pins that held her tight bun.

“We might try that later, but I just love your neck. That’s why the long earrings. They accent the line of your neck. So, for a while at least, I’d like to make sure it is exposed.”

I stroked along the line of her neck on to her shoulders and she breathed deeply. I got the ponytail fastened and used the opportunity to simply unfasten her bra. She looked surprised to find her bra in her lap and her breasts exposed. They were lovely! The weight created just a slight crease beneath each breast, but I was pretty sure they’d pass the pencil test. Her rosy nipples were hard and the areolae just as big as a half dollar. I hung the bra with her other things and gathered the gown to carefully guide over her head.

“I think we need to take the pantyhose and shoes, too,” I said as the gown reached her waist. I simply hooked the waistband with my thumbs and guided them on down her legs as the gown fell to full length. I knelt and removed her shoes and took the pantyhose off as well. She did not wear underwear beneath the hose, and her full bush was light enough that I didn’t think it would be distracting.

I led her back to the stage area and changed to the black backdrop. I repositioned my fill lights so that they shone through the sheer gown and highlighted her shape.

I got the camera ready and began taking pictures as I had her move in a sensual dance, holding the violin in her hand.

“Play for me now,” I said. “Make love to your Prince Gervais.”

It was beautiful. As she continued to move, I adjusted her gown, dropping it from her shoulders, then taking it off one arm as her left breast came into view. I made sure to pet it and continue to stroke her torso until I returned to the camera and took more shots. Eventually, the gown was around her waist and I guided her down to the floor. I carefully positioned her leg so the backlight would clearly show its shape. I used a high light to accent her curves and let her back fade off into the shadow. I arranged the skirts of her gown in folds around her and had her rest the violin on her leg, just lightly holding it vertical. The bow lay on her skirt. I took a shot and returned to her, reaching under to touch the sole of her foot and bring it up to tiptoe.

“Are you feeling in love?” I whispered as I returned to take another picture.

“Oh, yes,” she sighed. Her eyes drifted closed and I took the picture.

I slipped behind her and sat so she could lean against me. I undid the ponytail and fluffed her hair around her shoulder, pulling it back to kiss her neck lightly. She sighed and picked up her bow.

“The problem with having a violin as a lover is that he requires both my hands. I make him come, but I never quite get there myself until I put him away,” she whispered.

“Play him,” I answered. “I’ll be his hands.”

She played something I didn’t recognize, which was pretty easy to do with classical music. It had a lot of long slow strokes and I took that as a hint as to how she wanted to be touched. I fondled her breasts and dipped my finger in her deep navel. Then I pushed the gown off her lap so she was only sitting on it. As I stroked up her leg toward her pussy, she shifted slightly to open herself to me. I continued to caress her and kiss her shoulder and neck.

The playing became more plaintive, almost begging, and I dipped my fingers into her vagina and stroked up, dragging her lubrication around her clit. The playing almost stopped and then started again with renewed vigor, the pace picking up. I took that as my signal to pick up the pace myself. With two fingers inside her, probing for the hotspot I knew must be there, my thumb strummed her clit.

The violin reached a crescendo as a deep moan escaped her lips and her playing slowed down again. I slowly withdrew my fingers as she caught her breath, continuing to slow her playing to gentle strokes.

“Hold that position,” I whispered. “Keep playing and hold right there.”

I slipped from behind her and returned to the camera to take the final three frames on the roll.

Then I held the case for her as she gently put the violin and bow away. As soon as they were secure, I picked her up and carried her behind the privacy screen. She was not quite finished. I sat with her just to hold her and she turned to kiss me deeply. She pulled my hand back to her center and we kissed as I thrummed her clit to another orgasm. As we kissed, she managed to unfasten and unzip my jeans and open them up enough to expose my hard cock to the air.

She slid off my lap to the floor and engulfed my cock in her mouth, playing the same tune with her mouth on my cock as she had played on the violin with her hands. My explosion in her mouth was complete. I petted her hair as she rose back to my lap and I kissed her again.

“Your violin is a very lucky prince,” I whispered.

When I got home, Ronda was waiting for me with dinner. She was completely naked when she met me at the door, which was by no means an unpleasant sight. She seemed very nervous, though, and kissed me with passion that made me think she wanted to pick up where I wasn’t able to continue last night.

“Am I late?” I asked as I started shedding my coat and hat.

“No. You’re right on time,” she gasped. “I just want you naked so I can sit in your lap for a while before dinner.”

“How did your Russian final go?” I asked.

“Fine. We probably should have spent part of our study time last night writing notes to each other, but I think we probably all did pretty well. I think Russian is going to be an important language for us for a lot of years to come.”

“Better than needing to learn Vietnamese,” I laughed.

“Yes, but that’s what I want to talk about,” she said as she led me to the beanbag chair I’d passed out in the night before. Ronda had insisted we get the piece of ‘furniture’ as soon as she saw one. I had to agree it was especially nice for cuddling in.

“What about Vietnam?” I asked as she settled into my lap and kissed me again. She handed me a letter.

The fucking draft board. No wonder she was nervous after my condition last night. What did the bastards want now? She kissed me again.

“I’m with you this time. If you want to fuck before you read it, I’m ready. If you want to fuck after you’ve read it, I’m ready. But please don’t run away from me. It can’t be anything that affects us today, can it?”

“Honey, even if they tell me I’m I-A and will be subject to the draft after January 1, they’re never going to get to my number.” I tore the envelope open and read the letter aloud.

Nate Hart,

The State of Illinois Selective Service System Board has heard your appeal of the ruling of the Hunter County Selective Service System Board and has ruled in your favor. Your II-S deferment is restored as long as you continue to make satisfactory progress toward your bachelor’s degree at Columbia College by June 1, 1972. At that time, your local draft board will resume management of your case. Study hard.

Jerome Lignon, Secretary

State of Illinois Selective Service System Board.

Ronda was all over me and there was no question that we were going to have sex right damned now! Right there in the beanbag chair. That was just fine with me. Really. Ronda and sex were inseparable in my mind. She was the smallest of my girlfriends and was just unbelievable. I still couldn’t understand the circumstances that brought us together, or how we’d developed such a deep relationship that we could withstand the circumstances that threatened to tear us apart. I loved this girl!

And when my cock penetrated the folds of her sex and she began riding on top of me in that chair, I was in fucking heaven.

“The letter was dated Friday, November 28. They must have had a bunch of stuff due out before the end of the month to get them to send it on Thanksgiving Friday,” I said as I took another bite from the Chicken Kiev Ronda had prepared. I was happy she was studying Russian. This was great.

“I’m just so thankful that it’s all okay,” she sniffed. When we sat at the table, she served the food and then sat in my lap to feed me. She was dripping my come on my legs. I didn’t care.

“You know, it’s ironic. They’re turning me back over to my local board when I graduate. If they hadn’t ruled to extend my deferment, I’d have been eligible all through 1970 and then be done with it. Now, I’ll end up being eligible in 1972. If the notice had been dated today and received later in the week, I’d suspect that someone was manipulating it. But they dated this before the lottery. I suppose that if I had number fifteen or something, I’d be ten times more thankful to have this deferment.”

“But by 1972, it will all be over. Nixon is withdrawing troops. He wants an all-volunteer army and full Vietnamization of the war as soon as possible,” Ronda said. She’d probably discussed this in her International Affairs class at the university.

“That’s fine if you believe anything Nixon says. Which I guess most people do. My guess is that he’ll get enough troops out by November of 1972 to win re-election and then he’ll find a way to throw them right back in. There’s too much money being made off the war to let it end.”

“You’ve become cynical, Nate. We need to have some faith that good will be victorious.”

“That’s exactly the line Nixon is using. Only his definition of good and my definition of good are kind of at odds.”

“Is this really going to be a problem?” she asked as she fed me another bite of chicken.

“No,” I said with finality. “I’m through borrowing trouble from the future. I want to live with my wonderful girlfriend and make love until the world ends.”

“I think you’ll be living with all of them soon,” Ronda giggled.

“Sweetheart, you are the one naked in my lap right now. This weekend, we’ll have to make room for more.”

“That won’t be a big deal, will it?” she asked.

“No. When they aren’t with us, I miss them like crazy. Sometimes I have trouble remembering what Elizabeth looks like. But it’s only a little more than a week until she gets here,” I said.

“Well, this weekend, you’ll get a swap. I’m going to Rockford to be with Anna for the weekend. Patricia is going to be here with you. And little Miss Toni is staying with Grandma for the weekend. I hope you don’t have much scheduled,” Ronda said. We’d left off eating and were just petting each other. I was getting hard under her butt again.

“I think my schedule was just filled,” I said.

“I think I’d like to get filled again, lover. What do you think?”

The dishes and leftovers stayed on the table as I carried Ronda to the bedroom and had her way with her.

I called my attorney Wednesday and told him the “good news” about the state hearing and approving my appeal. He congratulated me and wanted to know if I wanted him to withdraw from the case against Warren.

“Absolutely not!” I said. “He still needs to answer for the way he’s misused his position to send minorities into the army. At least the lottery should put an end to his ability to do that. Do you think the whole board is in collusion with him?”

“I don’t know that I’d go that far,” Lowell said. “They might not have consciously been aware that it was going on. But they’ll go a long way to protect one of their own. Right up until the point where he becomes a liability to the whole board. I’ll contact Allen White and tell him we’re in it for the long haul. He’ll be glad to know that you are still the spokesperson for the plaintiffs.”

“I don’t understand any of the legal stuff, but if you need me to speak out somewhere, just let me know.”

I met with my study group Thursday afternoon at the studio and showed them the first print I’d pulled from my session with Sue Renton.

“That girl was walking on air when we met Tuesday night. The other girls are lining up for their turn,” Leslie said.

“Just as long as they don’t all want to come at once,” I said. “I’m really trying to moderate my client intake next term.”

“They all want to come. Whether they come at once doesn’t matter,” Leslie giggled. “Hey, are you taking the color course next term?”

“Yeah. I guess so. I’m not enthused. It’s not just the artistry of it, but you have to depend on so many other people. But, like you with fashion photography, I need to do color work in order to do justice to Leanne’s makeup and costume creations,” I said.

“How soon can we do another one?” Leanne asked.

“We could do one in black and white now,” I said. “But I honestly don’t expect one in color until the end of next term.”

“Oh! I have a design that will look great in black and white. I think I know a model for it. She’d be perfect. You’ll have to help with the paint. I’m guessing it could take us both as much as two hours to paint her, but it would be fun. Um… We should probably practice a couple of times, you know?”

“Let’s wait until this term is over so I can shake out some time that isn’t spoken for,” I laughed. “And if I’m going to practice on you, I might have someone help.”

“Ooh. I could always use that kind of help,” she giggled.

“My body’s a blank canvas. You can paint me,” Carrie chimed in.

We all started laughing. I turned to Devon.

“How’d you do in the lottery?” I asked.

“Ninety-something. It doesn’t matter.”

“Devon, I can stow you away in Canada for as long as you like,” I said.

“No. It really doesn’t matter. I’ve already reported for induction and walked out classified IV-F, unfit to serve.”

“Unfit?” Carrie asked.

“Well, technically, they say not qualified. It seems the US Army has a thing against homo cross-dressers.”

“God, Devon. I can’t believe you went through that.”

“I did it last summer. I don’t know what I’d have done if they’d accepted me. Kill myself, probably,” Devon said.

“Like Rick Bradshaw,” Leslie said. We all looked at her. I knew Rick slightly from my dormitory days.

“What about Rick?” I asked.

“Oh, God, you don’t know. I’m sorry. Rick’s birthday was September 14. They found him dead of a heroin overdose in his room Tuesday,” Leslie said. “I thought everyone knew.”

“I guess I missed the news. Crap.” That was unsettling. I’d gotten drunk and I wasn’t even really at jeopardy. Rick had overdosed when his lottery number was called as 001. Another dead from the War in Vietnam.

When I got home from my last class on Friday, Patricia was standing in the kitchen wearing an apron. And a smile. That was all.

“Sweetheart! You’re here!”

“And you’re stuck with me,” she said. “Ronda took my car and went to spend the weekend with Anna.”

“And our little pumpkin?”

“Not happy that Mommy was going to see Uncle Nate, but quickly satisfied when Grandma said they were going shopping for new clothes in Dubuque tomorrow. That little girl has more clothes than I do!” Patricia laughed as she fell into my arms for a long and luscious kiss. She started working on my buttons.

“I’ll miss her, but not enough to prevent me from enjoying her Mommy in my arms and in my bed,” I said. “Did you want to go out tonight?”

“No. I made the infamous Hart family recipe for spaghetti and meat sauce with lots of garlic. Taught to me by Grandpa Rich himself.”

“Dad does like to use a lot of garlic.”

“Yeah. I figured that out. He handed me a whole bulb of garlic and said the recipe called for one. I peeled it all and chopped it up and threw it in the olive oil. I snuck a look at his recipe card and it said ‘one clove.’ No wonder the whole apartment building smells of garlic now!” she laughed.

By this time, she had my clothes off me and was carrying them to the bedroom.

“How much time do we have before dinner is ready?” I asked as I pulled her naked body to me and kissed her.

“The sauce is simmering and I haven’t put the pasta on to boil yet,” she said, returning my kiss with fervor.

I pushed her back slightly and she fell onto the bed. I fell to my knees and pushed hers apart as I buried my face in her pussy.

“Yes, oh, yes! We have lots of time!”

It was a good thing we did. By the time I was finished licking her pussy and then fucking it energetically and once again softly and lovingly, we were both really hungry.

“I wish I’d been here,” Patricia said. “I couldn’t stand to watch. Dad watched it and told me when it was over. I tried to call you, but I couldn’t make my fingers hit the right keys. I just lay in my bed crying for the rest of the night. I went out to the cemetery Tuesday morning and told Tony he didn’t have to go. His birthday was April eighth—number 312. He didn’t have to go.”

Patricia wept and I held her in that beanbag chair where I’d watched the drawing. My pipe and ashtray were sitting on a low table nearby. Of course, the ashes from Monday were long gone.

“I should have been here to hold your card while you lit it on fire. I’m so glad you don’t have to go,” she continued. “But, Nate, if there is any reason at all, I’ll still go with you to Canada forever if we need to. No matter what happens with the lawsuits and accusations in Huntertown, Toni and I will go with you and stay with you always.”

“I love you, Patricia. I want you to be with me always.”

“I love you, Nate. I’d move in with you now, but I want to give Elizabeth time and room to adjust before we all start piling in. She’ll need to adjust to living with Ronda as well as with you. I’m sure she’ll be shocked when she discovers the other three of us are lickety-slit. I never expected that, but you know what? Anna and Ronda really taste good. Especially when they’re full of Nate’s semen. And I love them. I just want them always to be happy with us.”

“You girls all amaze me. Whatever we do, we need to find a way to live together.”

My weekend with Patricia was wonderful. We went walking in a couple of the parks and around the University of Chicago campus. I took her up to the studio and she no more than walked in than she started taking her clothes off. I knew what to do about that. I started taking pictures.

We went on a props hunt and found a baby doll and an old fashioned doll cradle. I found a red plastic wig that looked like it could have been used for a mannequin in a store that couldn’t afford real wigs. When I posed my sexy doll with the cradle and the doll baby, it looked like Barbie was a single mom. We had fun with it, but Patricia was tired of playing a mommy when she was one. So, we changed sets and eventually, I got a great photo of her looking just fucked.

We had to work hard on that pose.

Our weekend came to an end when Ronda and Anna arrived for Sunday dinner. They’d had as good a weekend as we had. After we’d enjoyed each other’s company for a while, Anna and Patricia headed west again, leaving Ronda and me to our domestic life. I had just a few classes left before finals and Ronda was out for the year-end holidays. She became very domestic and by the time I got home from classes on Tuesday, we were feeling very married. So, it was a real surprise as we were eating pork chops with potatoes and gravy that evening when she smiled sweetly at me.

“Your mistress called today. We had a lovely chat.”

“My… What?” I said, wondering what kind of prank was being played on me.

“Adrienne, silly. She said she misses you and wants to come for a visit,” Ronda said.

“Oh. Geez. She’s serious? I don’t know about that.”

“She sounded so lonely. We talked for an hour. So, she’ll be here New Year’s week. Won’t it be fun? We’ll all still be on break with Anna and Patricia living here and Elizabeth will be home.” Ronda started giggling as I thought about adding Adrienne to the mix of my four girlfriends.

“That sounds like a recipe for disaster. You can’t mean to say you’ve invited her to stay with us.”

“No! What kind of mistress would share the house with the wives? She’ll stay in a hotel. It was her idea, actually. But she does want to meet all of us. We have a lot in common. I’m looking forward to getting much better acquainted with her.”

“Ronda, Adrienne is a sweet person, but she has some really strange kinks. She might not be a good fit for our family.”

“Oh, I know. We talked a lot about them. She is into being tied up and fucked in the butt. I like having you hold me tightly while you come against my anus. I can see her attraction. She’s bringing a book with photos of knots and ropes. She says it is very decorative and sexy,” Ronda explained.

“I’ve had to do that with a client once. It wasn’t just looping a rope around her wrists, like we’ve pretended with a scarf. When we’ve played that way, the bondage was always pretend. This woman wanted the ropes pulled tight and to not be able to resist anything that I might do to her,” I said, remembering my session with Sylvia Drummond last spring. She’d used those photos to drive her husband, my patron, into a rage so that he attacked her and her bodyguard killed him. Then she’d turned around and given me my large format camera. I hadn’t heard from her since. Thank heavens!

“Well, I think it will be interesting to learn things from her. And I know you enjoyed your time with her in September. The photos were exquisite. Did you like fucking her?” she asked.

“Ronda, how can you ask something like that? I don’t love her. You are asking a strictly dick question. Does my dick like fucking? Yes. Adrienne was particularly enthusiastic about it.”

“If you really don’t want to see her again, I’ll call her and tell her not to come. But it seems that we might all need a little extra fun once in a while. As she said, she’s not the kind of woman you marry. She’s the kind of woman you fuck when your wife’s away. Or while your wife is watching.”

“We should check with Anna and Patricia. And Elizabeth. I won’t have her here messing up our relationship,” I said. I was trying to do the right thing and resist the temptress from Los Angeles. But the very thought of Adrienne made my dick stiffen.

“Already talked to Anna and Patricia,” Ronda said. “I’ll discuss it with Elizabeth this weekend. She gets into town in just two days! Won’t that be fun?”

“I hope we still click. Five months is a long time to be apart.”

“We’ll see. People do it all the time. They get sent out on jobs to Alaska or to war in Vietnam. They come home and have wonderful loving relationships with their families. It will be okay.”

It was a curious thing. Elizabeth had been gone since we left Las Vegas at the end of July. Touring with Danny Carlisle had been a much different lifestyle than what the rest of us had lived.

When we first started our relationship, I talked to Beth a couple of times a week, sometimes for a long time. If it was going to be an especially long call, I’d walk to the phone booth in front of Center Marketplace and she’d call me there. Sometimes, she was closer than my Tenbrook girlfriends because we didn’t do anything but talk. She seemed to know what I needed, like a model with a handicap to photograph after we buried Tony.

But since she’d been on tour with Danny, we didn’t talk more than once a week and sometimes it was two weeks between calls. We never knew what her phone number would be, so we couldn’t call. Her schedule often had her free to talk when we were in class or the studio. I wasn’t even sure what she looked like these days.

I found out Thursday when she walked into the studio where my study group was meeting.

“Honey, I’m home!” she called from the top of the stairs.

I knocked my chair over, jumping up to rush to her arms and welcome her home.

“You’re back, you’re back, you’re back,” I said, as I placed kisses all over her face.

“Danny dropped me off here on his way home. I don’t need to worry about anything until the show tomorrow night,” she said, kissing me again. Then she turned to my study mates. “Oh, hi, guys! I remember you. Do you mind me stealing my fella away for a while? I know you must have a ton of studying to do.”

“Hi, Beth,” Leanne said. She knew my girlfriend better than any of the others because she’d been with us in Las Vegas. “It’s good to have you back in town. We’ll manage without Nate. It’s only final exam week coming up.”

The dig was missed entirely by Elizabeth and almost by me. I gathered my things and we called a cab to get home since Beth had her suitcases parked just inside the Camera Warehouse front door.

She was different. Her hair was curly. It had always been wavy, but now it was more… clown-like. Her makeup was perfect for going out in the evening. It was a little much for a college student going to class. And she was excited about her upcoming show. It was her homecoming to Chicago. She seemed more excited about that than being home with us.

I led her up to our sixth-floor apartment, carting her bags.

“Ronda! I’ve brought Elizabeth home,” I called.

Ronda bounced around the corner wearing her usual apron and nothing else. I felt Beth catch her breath.

“You’re back,” Ronda said happily. She rushed to give Beth a hug. “Let’s get you out of all those uncomfortable clothes.”

“Um… Ronda, could we… I… not get naked until I have a chance to adjust to being back? I haven’t even seen the apartment yet,” she said. Ronda jumped back.

“Oops! I didn’t think of that. I’ll be right back.”

Ronda ran into the bedroom to pull some clothes on. I don’t think she’d worn anything in the apartment for weeks. Clothes were what we put on to go to class or to get groceries.

“Can I… uh… take your coat?” I asked.

“Of course. I didn’t mean to be rude, but being back is so different than being on the road. I need a little time to adjust.”

I took her coat and hung it with mine on the coat tree we had by the door. Then I led her into the rest of the apartment.

“It’s not huge, but it’s been plenty big enough so far. Afraid the fireplace in the living room is just for show. We’ve decorated in early attic with touches of Avant Garde. The sunroom is usually open like this, but when Toni is here, it’s her space. Hence all the toys.”

“How is the little love?” Beth asked, leaning against me.

“Running everywhere and talking a mile a minute. I think she learned to run before she learned to walk. I mean always on the run or dancing.”

Ronda came out of the bedroom dressed in slacks and a sweater, but still barefoot.

“Sorry for the titty display earlier,” she said. “Really, Beth, it’s good to have you home.”

“Oh, thanks, honey. You didn’t really need to get dressed, I just wasn’t ready yet. You know how Nate always starts with a fully clothed portrait before he gets his models naked. I just need that little transition time,” Beth said.

“Of course! Hope you’re good with a home-cooked meal tonight. It’s just Nate’s famous chili. Not too hot for any of us. I made cornbread to go with it.”

“Oh, man! Sounds like heaven. I’ve had 157 straight days of eating in restaurants, or room service in my hotel room. Nate’s chili and your cornbread sound yummy.”

We got around to eating and all relaxed as the evening progressed. Beth had brought a bottle of wine in her luggage and we all had a glass, but refrained from any more.

“I learned my lesson a week ago Monday,” I said. “Drank a whole bottle and ended up passed out in the beanbag.”

“I was in Cleveland,” Beth said. “I want you to know that I was watching. I didn’t know what to say or to do, but I had your birthdate written down on a slip of paper in front of me and waited. I was relieved and tried to call, but I got a busy signal.”

“Nate had knocked the phone off the hook when he stumbled through the kitchen,” Ronda said. “We didn’t discover it until breakfast.”

“That explains it. I got busy. We left for Detroit Tuesday morning and I spent the entire bus trip writing. I had to run it by Danny and his manager, and then overnight a copy to my manager. But they finally approved it. They had me add a couple of jokes. But mostly, the new routine is the way I wrote it. Tomorrow night will be the first time I’ve used it.”

It took us a while getting ready, but eventually, we all ended up in bed. Naked. We just held each other and kissed and petted a little. Having Elizabeth in bed with us was almost like having a stranger in bed. We were getting used to each other again, but it was going slowly.

Beth wasn’t awake yet when I got up to go to class Friday morning. I kissed her softly and she mumbled that she’d ‘see me tonight.’ Ronda gave me a kiss at the door and then went back to bed. The next time I saw Elizabeth, she was Starr on stage.

2
Shut Down

“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, welcome to the Orion Room. Put your hands together for her first Chicago hometown performance, comedienne and part-time ballerina, Starr!”

The announcer’s voice was dramatic, and the applause was polite. The auditorium was about two-thirds full and people were still entering, hoping they weren’t late for the real headliner, Danny Carlisle. Starr entered in her tutu and bowler hat with her trademark paint under her left eye.

Hello Chicago! It’s so good to be back home! I’m Starr and Chicago is where I was born, raised, and wore my first tutu. It’s the only thing that stuck from my year of dance lessons. I love my tutu!

Girls all go through a period in life when they want to be a ballerina. Little one-year-old me who could only barely walk would stand with my hand on Grandma’s knee and wiggle my shoulders and torso in a dance. That’s approximately the same way I dance today. At three, I was spinning in my dances until I fell over and couldn’t stand up. Sometimes I still dance like that, too.

Then I was told I couldn’t be a dancer unless I took dance lessons. I hated dance lessons. They wanted us to do all kinds of ridiculous moves and stand in stupid positions. I hated it. But I loved my tutu! To me, what I needed to be a dancer was not to plié, but to wear a tutu. I quit dance lessons. I kept the tutu.

I know three girls from my first dance class who are now professional dancers. One is with the Metropolitan Ballet, and two are in a strip club in Las Vegas. And here I am standing on a stage in Chicago making fun of them!

You know what we have in common? We’re all still wearing our tutus! You can’t be depressed when you’re wearing a tutu. Well, maybe if you’re a guy you can be. I’m not being judgmental, but you should try it. Get out your tutu and wear it to the office. Wear it to the grocery store. Wear it to your kid’s little league game. You’ll feel much better.

The tutu is only one reason I’ve had a great 1969. I got recruited to open for Danny Carlisle while I was visiting Las Vegas this summer. Wow! What a ride! You’re going to love him. We’ve been on the road for twenty-two weeks in twenty-one cities. No wonder I’m horny!

I have really missed my family. I have a boyfriend and three sister girlfriends. I see you down there, clutching your boyfriend’s arm, laying claim to him. Don’t worry. I don’t want your boyfriend. But if you dump him, I might be interested in adding you to our family. You’re cute. Yeah. Four girlfriends are not enough. We should have a fifth in our little clutch. And not one you drink.

You are projecting the questions in your head so loudly, I can hear them in mine. That’s because you have the same questions everyone has. I talk to other women. They all have the same questions.

“Starr, don’t you get jealous when one of the other girlfriends is, like, with him? You know, doing it?”

No. Let’s put an end to that previous generation bullshit. I don’t get jealous. I get relieved. My boyfriend loves me. Some nights while I was on the road, we talked on the telephone for a couple of hours, even though I’d come off a show and it was near midnight in Las Vegas, which makes it two in the morning for him, and he had class at seven-thirty in the morning. By the time we’re done talking, the best he can hope for is three hours of sleep before he has to get up and try to keep his eyes open through a day of college classes. That’s not even because he was up late. Everyone has to struggle to keep their eyes open through seven-thirty a.m. classes. Even the professor.

But the important thing is that I got to talk to him and let him talk me down from my post-performance high and fall asleep with his voice in my ear, and I didn’t even have to fuck him! One of the other girlfriends already took care of that! And when I’m home, I’ll take the hit for them and it will be fun and I love it! We’ve never managed to all live together in the same place at the same time for more than a few weeks. We all have lives. We’re on the go. We’re in college or on the road or raising a kid.

Yeah. Among the four of us, we have one child. And we all love her like crazy, man. She is the sweetest, cutest, smartest, lovingest little girl in the world. And I didn’t have to push an entire human being through my vagina!

I love my sister girlfriend for going through that and giving us a baby to love, but not have to take home at night.

This year, though. I tell you. It’s been crazy. We got tired of being lied to by Democrats, so we chose to be lied to by Republicans for a while. Same war. Same escalation. The president says we’re going to bring all the soldiers home from Vietnam, but first we need a million more to send over there. So, what we’re going to do is make the selection process of who to send into the death machine fairer. We’ll have a lottery.

First of all, you might have guessed I’m against the war and against the draft. But my reasons aren’t the usual ones. My reason is because of what it’s done to college. Guys who would never have considered college if there was no war are taking out huge loans to finance an education they didn’t need or want, but the only way to stay out of the army is with a college deferment.

It really brings the quality of prospective college boyfriends down a few notches. One guy came up to me after class and asked me out. Nice guy. Pretty good looking, in an “I just got out of high school” way. He’d even asked me for some help studying. I knew this guy was struggling to pass his classes and stay deferred.

Okay, lots of us struggle with tough college academics. But failing basket-weaving? Come on. All he ever really wanted to do was drive a tractor on his daddy’s farm. And that’s what he should be allowed to do without struggling to make grades in classes he doesn’t want to take.

But we’re going to make the draft fairer. Did you know that the first day of this month, just a few days ago, they drew capsules out of a giant mayonnaise jar in Washington, DC, and decided that every male born on September 14, between 1944 and 1950 would be the first ones drafted and sent to Vietnam.

Now, let’s simplify this so that everyone here understands what the draft lottery actually is. I’m going to randomly select a month of the year from a glass jar and find it’s July. Yeah, that was random. I made up the decision at the last second. Now how many of you here in this room were born in July? I don’t care what year. July wins the lottery.

Look at all of them! Statistically, it should be about 1/12th of the people in the room. Now, don’t move from your seat or suddenly become compliant and follow all my instructions. This is just an illustration. We’ll ask all the people—no, we’ll order all the people—born in July to go over there and stand against the wall. Then I’m going to be blindfolded and will be given a gun. I don’t know what kind of gun. An army gun, bitch. And it’s loaded. Let’s say with a thousand bullets.

Once I’m armed and dangerous, I’ll just start shooting randomly toward that wall. You can duck. You can move around. You can hide behind the person next to you. But I’m going to shoot a thousand bullets in the direction of that wall.

I’m sorry to say that the law of randomness that I just made up, says I’m going to kill some of you. I don’t know how many. It’s all according to chance. I might shoot twice in the same place, so hiding behind someone else didn’t help. I got both of you. I might point at the ground, just as you dove for it. Sorry.

Oh, you might get hit and not die. You could just have a flesh wound. You could have a punctured lung. You could have a broken back. Worst of all, you might lose your pecker. But a whole bunch of you who weren’t killed outright are going to be wounded and possibly maimed.

The rest of you get to go home. You’ll be better people for having served and survived, right? Oh, you’ll still have nightmares about a crazy girl in a tutu shooting at you. People will think you’re stupid for ever having obeyed her order to stand against the wall. You’ll wake up screaming in the middle of the night to stay away from the Orion Room forever. You’ll still flinch every time a car backfires. But you’re a survivor. You’ll be better for it.

Once the smoke dies down and the wounded are carted off and those who survived are seated and laughing about the whole experience, we’re going to draw another month and say, “Everyone born in February, up against the wall!”

I admit that the lottery is a “fairer” way of deciding who gets a chance at dodging the bullet than simply saying, “If you’re black, stand up against the wall.” There’s a draft board in this state that did exactly that. Every minority male who became eligible in Hunter County and didn’t have an educational deferment and wasn’t physically unable to serve in the military was drafted over the past three years. This lottery thing had better put a stop to that unless by some miracle, every black baby is born on September 14.

If you were born on September 14, 1944-1950, you are 1,000,000 times more likely to be killed in Vietnam in the next two years than if your birth date had been June 6.

“Starr, that was dark,” you say. “We came here to be entertained and to laugh.”

Yeah, you’re right. I’m sorry.

I thought it would be a really funny bit, because if it was really horrible, we’d do something insane, like end the war in Vietnam and withdraw all our troops before another single life is sacrificed there.

Or else we’d hold a lottery among those serving in Congress, the Senate, the Supreme Court, the Pentagon, and the Oval Office and the first third of those drawn would be the first ones sent to Vietnam to fight for the profit margins of RMK-BRJ, Caterpillar, McDonnell Douglas, the President’s Club, the entire military-industrial complex, and Nixon’s re-election campaign.

You ladies who are out there dating and trying to find Mr. Right… Let’s hear it if you’re out there. No more gross illustrations about killing you if you raise your hands. Give a shout. Understand that guys our age are getting killed at a higher rate than at any time since World War II. We need to learn to share the ones who are left. Here’s the secret. You should consider your girlfriend’s boyfriend and suggest—to her, not to him—that you share him. Because here’s a little known fact. Guys have just three conversations in them.

The first date, “Oh, he’s so funny and charming.” The second date, “He’s really smart.” The third date, “He’s such a caring and sensitive person.”

But if you aren’t sleeping with him by the fourth date, he’s repeating himself. He’s used up all his date conversation. At that point, he has three things to fall back on: Sports, politics, and the great recipe his mother has for macaroni and cheese. You’ve heard everything else.

But if you have sex, and don’t want to get pregnant, you’d better be protected. I’m talking about illegal birth control. Did you know contraceptives are illegal? It might even be illegal for me to stand up here and talk about them.

“Yeah, Starr, but what about rubbers. You can buy them at the drugstore.”

Only for the prevention of disease! You can’t buy prophylactics for the prevention of pregnancy.

It’s the law.

You know, it’s weird. Lots of things are backward. The Supreme Court ruled in 1965 that married women have the right to contraceptives. Well, in general, the supreme Court is a hundred years behind the times. It was only two-and-a-half years ago, on June 12, that the Court got around to saying, “the freedom to marry, or not marry, a person of another race resides with the individual, and cannot be infringed by the State.”

Well, thank you very much for giving me control over whom I marry. Only three years after the Civil rights Act of 1964, and two years after the Voting Rights Act of 1965. What we need now is a constitutional amendment that changes the legal voting age to eighteen—along with granting other fundamental rights accorded to adults—to eighteen-year-olds.

But where was I. Not on a political campaign. You didn’t come here to listen to that crap. You’re still trying to understand exactly what my tits are saying.

What I was trying to say is that the court, as usual when they’re dealing with new issues, got this one backwards. It’s not married women who need birth control! It’s unmarried women! The way I read that ruling is that the Supreme Court believes it’s better for single women to be pregnant than married women.

This is almost 1970. Sex, drugs, and rock and roll, baby! We can get everything except the drugs that make sex and rock and roll not end up in a baby. Do you really think that at twenty years of age, living on my own, with a boyfriend who loves me, that I am not going to have sex? With this body? You’ve got to be kidding.

But I’m so afraid of getting pregnant! I had to come up with my own solution. I sewed a latex glove over my vagina. And I still make my boyfriend use a rubber. If the kid gets out of that combination, we’ll name him after Harry Houdini.

Really, I’m so susceptible to drugs that I could probably get along on half a pill. What’s the worst that could happen? I get half pregnant?

I’m such a lightweight that if I walk into a room where someone smoked a joint within the last, say, six months… I get high! If I was high, I would have finished my routine out here and be back in the dressing room fucking my boyfriend by now. You’d have to record me and play me back at half speed in order to understand my jokes. I know, that wouldn’t help some of you.

I had surgery a while back. No, I’m not going to tell you what I got operated on. I’m not sixty! And my boobs are my business. I was laid out on the table ready for the doctor and I met the anesthesiologist. He was so nice. He had a soft comforting voice. He held a mask above my face and said, “Now, Starr, I’m going to put this mask over your nose and mouth. Just breathe normally and count backward from… Never mind.” In the time it took him to give me the instructions, I was already asleep.

I see you are, too, so I’d better boogie. You’ve all been so nice. I’m Starr. That’s with two Rs and a big ass. Ess! Does this tutu make my ess look big?

When we all finally got home Friday night, Beth was psyched up and rolling about her big opening in Chicago. Patricia had stayed home and got Toni to bed, so we tried not to be too raucous. Ronda and Anna joined Patricia in bed and I stayed up with Beth, eating chips and drinking tea. I didn’t think that was a particularly good combination, but eventually Beth started to wind down and we went to bed. She cuddled up to me and went straight to sleep without any loving.

We all tried to be quiet in the morning to let her sleep. I danced with Toni and then took her out to the park to push in a swing. She loved that and if I could have stood it, she’d have stayed in that swing seat for hours. As it was, she was almost ready for her nap by the time I got her back to the apartment.

By that time, Beth was up and moving and getting ready to leave for the theatre.

“Why do you need to go over so early?” I asked.

“We’ll get together and talk about last night’s performance. If I need to make any adjustments, I’ll need to rehearse a little. They’ll probably want me to cut the whole lottery thing—or at least to figure a way to shorten it. They make a lot of allowances for me, because I’m still experimenting. But I’ll need to decide if I’m going to do biting political satire or if I’m going to do the laugh-a-second repartee. These are my last two performances before I’m off indefinitely and I want to leave them all with a good impression,” Beth said.

“Wow! I just didn’t have any idea of how much goes into a show like that. You make it look so easy and natural on stage.”

“Are you coming tonight? You know it will be different.”

“Yes. Someone had to stay home with Toni, so tonight it’s Ronda and Anna and I’m bringing Patricia,” I said.

“It’s always like that, isn’t it? I guess we were kind of spoiled in Las Vegas by having her grandmother stay with her so we could all party. Do you think I’ll be okay when it’s my turn to babysit?” Beth asked.

“Oh, yeah. We won’t throw you into it with no practice or backup. After you’ve been back for a while, it will just be part of the natural flow of things,” I laughed. “Do you want me to take you to the theatre?”

“Thanks, but I already called a cab reservation. He should be here in a few minutes. I didn’t want to make it hard on anyone to ferry me around. You know, I could have just called home and Deke would have come to get me. Mom and Dad are coming to the show tonight. And probably that Adele woman.”

“Adele’s not all bad. I had to speak sharply to her once when she tried to put the moves on Patricia. But the last time I had lunch with your family, she was fine.”

“You don’t know what it’s like to find out your own mother is the lowest in the pecking order and that your father orders your mother’s slave master around.”

“I have to admit, that sounds really weird. Did she try anything with you?” I asked.

“No. I guess Papa gave her strict orders that she was to keep her hands off Val and me. If she tried something, I think I would lose my membership in the pacifist community.”

“I don’t think there’s a membership. Oh, is that your taxi?”

“Yeah. I’ll see you after the show tonight, love.”

“Love you. Break a leg.”

She was off.

She did make some changes to the lottery section of her routine, tightening it up and making it shorter. It actually got a couple of laughs. Patricia, unfortunately, had hold of my arm in a death grip. She didn’t consider it all that funny.

We slipped out after Starr’s performance and met her at the stage door. She wasn’t staying for the final performance of Danny’s tour. The three of us went out and had a late dinner at an International House of Pancakes that was open twenty-four hours. If you want pancakes at ten o’clock at night, that’s the place to go.

Beth had changed clothes, but she still had her eye makeup on. Patricia mentioned it.

“Yeah. I guess I’m hanging onto Starr for as long as I can tonight. I’ll be putting her on a shelf for a while and going back to school. It’s going to be so different,” Beth said.

“What do you need to make the transition easier,” I asked. I’d been practicing being supportive and not just telling her what she should do next. Ronda had told me I had a tendency to do that.

“Hmm. Maybe provide a hundred or two enthusiastic people to applaud me at least once a week? That might help,” she said.

“That’s probably possible,” Patricia said. “We could probably get that many to applaud you just for wearing a tutu in public. You know Toni’s going to want one soon.”

“Oh, I hope so. Aunt Beth will have fulfilled her role,” Beth laughed. “Seriously, you know, the whole applause thing is addictive. I didn’t start out being funny to get approval or applause. I started out to make people laugh. I think my stuff turned kind of dark over the summer and I want to figure out how to get back to just being someone who makes people laugh. I need to break the addiction to approval.”

“Isn’t laughter a kind of approval in itself?” I asked. “I mean, when I sell a really good art print, I feel affirmed. Like my art is worth something. That’s a kind of approval.”

“Okay. Maybe I could get along without the laughter if someone just paid me ten or fifteen thousand dollars every couple of months for a joke I wrote. I don’t know, though. How would I know that they actually thought the joke was funny unless I heard them laugh?”

“Speaking of which, Adrienne will be here in a couple of weeks,” Patricia said. “She’s coming for a visit.”

“Adrienne? The model in that photo that sold for so much?” Beth asked. “Does she want another photo session?”

“I’m sure she’ll want photos, too,” I said. “Adrienne wants to be a kind of satellite to the family. Not exactly a part of it, but accepted by it.”

“You might have to explain that a little more thoroughly.”

“Adrienne wants to be our mistress,” Patricia said. “She put it best when she said she’s not the marrying kind. She’s the kind you go to when you can’t get what you want from your wife. Or husband, for that matter.”

“Nate, you have four girlfriends. Can’t you get what you want from them?”

“I’m not sure I could explain myself all that well. In fact, I’m not sure I want the relationship that Adrienne says she wants. I have two girlfriends sitting with me and two more in the apartment who are just as beautiful as Adrienne. I sort of have the feeling I could ask anything of you and you’d do it.”

“Which of us are you going to ask to fuck in the butt?” Patricia asked.

“I don’t really need to do that,” I said.

“I think I see,” Beth said. “There might be something that none of us want to do but she’s willing to. And she doesn’t want to take our place. She’ll just get down and dirty in ways you probably wouldn’t even ask one of us to do.”

“It goes a little beyond that,” Patricia said. “If I wanted to tie her up and spank her because I can’t do that to my own child, she’d let me. And she’d get off on it.”

“Wow! If I wanted to have a woman eat me, I wouldn’t ask one of you to do it, but I could ask her?” Beth said.

“Well, we haven’t mentioned it, honey, but you could ask any of us for that,” Patricia said, touching Beth’s hand.

Beth just stared at her.

Sunday was Anna’s day. I slipped out of bed with Patricia and Beth early Sunday morning and when I arrived where Ronda and Anna were sleeping, Ronda got up to make coffee and breakfast. I kissed Anna.

“Mmm. Kisses,” she moaned without opening her eyes. “Kisses make me horny.”

“Good,” I whispered. “I plan to start your day with your first birthday orgasm.”

“I get orgasms for my birthday? But my birthday isn’t until tomorrow.”

“We have to take what opportunities we have,” I said, kissing her some more.

“Okay.”

It wasn’t dramatic dialog, but it got us started. By the time Anna was completely awake, I was petting her boobs and stimulating her nipples. I moved down to play with them with my tongue as my hand drifted down to her wet center.

“Hmm. Someone has already been playing down here,” I whispered.

“That girlfriend Ronda said I needed to be ready for my boyfriend. She got me really ready.”

“I thought she smelled familiar when I kissed her.”

“Yeah, I kissed her, too. I never thought I’d do that.”

“I don’t want to waste all her preparations,” I said.

I moved on top of Anna and she spread her legs to make my entrance to her pussy easy. I slid inside and we just slowly moved together, enjoying the feeling of being connected.

“I love you, Anna. I think I’ve loved you since you introduced me in speech class. I never imagined how wonderful it would be.”

“Oh, I love you, Nate. I was such a mixed up and confused girl back then. I’m just so glad you let me back into your life.”

“You were never out of my life. Even when we were broken up, we were still together. You never really gave up. I love you for everything you do and have done. I love you for loving our girlfriends. I love you for loving our goddaughter. I love you for loving me.”

“Show me, Nate. Make me feel your love!”

Our motions sped up and we both climbed to the peak again. I flooded her pussy with my come and she clamped down on my cock as her pussy fluttered around it. We were one.

Unfortunately, Anna and Patricia had to head back west that evening. Ronda, whose classes were now out for the term, decided to go with them and spend some time in Tenbrook with her family. That left Beth and me together in Chicago. I still had a week of finals left.

“I might sleep all day,” Beth said as I kissed her goodbye in the morning. “I’m so tired after spending the past months on the road. I don’t have to catch a bus today, do I?”

“No buses today, love. I’ll bring Chinese carry-out for dinner tonight. Spend your day recovering.”

“You’re really wonderful to all of us. I’ll be a good wife this week.”

“Just be who you are, love. I’ll see you tonight.”

My first final was in History of Photography. I found the whole process of wet plate photography to be fascinating and really wanted to try it out one day. It would strictly be a novelty as I wasn’t sure I could even get hold of a camera like William Henry Jackson, who used a really large format camera of roughly 10x16, using glass plates that had to be coated in a darkroom with colloid, dipped in silver emulsion, rushed to the camera and exposed, then rushed back to the darkroom to develop. Then the glass plate was shipped out east where a contact print was pulled. Photography really changed American history as well as recording it.

That was a preview of F/Stop. To read the rest purchase the book.

Add «F/Stop» to Cart