Nandita To Nandini
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Second Thoughts And Last ChancesChapter 36 free porn video
We never did resolve the matter of my being good, great or evil. My heart told me that none of them were truly applicable. My mind continued to debate whether those labels could ever be used on someone like me.
The issues of accountability, responsibility, justice and freedom continued to haunt my thoughts for years after that night. The only thing I did come to terms with was my obsession with truth.
Is truth a property of sentences, which are linguistic entities, or is truth a property of propositions, which are nonlinguistic, abstract and timeless entities? Peggy was right when she concluded that it's a problem of being clear and definitive about what you're talking about when you say some claim or other is true.
There are several prominent theories relating to Truth, chief among them being Coherence, Correspondence, Deflationary, Pragmatic and the Semantic. Trust me, unless you're the type of person who enjoys being confused and frustrated in the extreme, you do not want to delve too deeply into any of them.
For example: When we say that Canada is north of the United States, what sort of thing is it that is true? Is it a statement or a sentence or something else, a 'fact', perhaps? More generally, philosophers want to know what sorts of things are true and what sorts of things are false. This same question is expressed by asking 'What sorts of things have, or bear, truth-values?'
The term truth-value was coined by logicians as a nonspecific term for truth or falsehood. To ask for the truth-value of X, is to ask whether X is true or whether X is false. Value in truth-value does not mean valuable. It's used in a similar fashion to numerical value as when we say that the value of 'x' in 'x + 5 = 9' is 4. To ask 'What is the truth-value of the statement that Canada is north of the United States?' is to ask whether the statement that Montreal is north of Pittsburgh is true or whether it is false.
And that's one of the more easily understood aspects of the various theories.
Ultimately, what I decided was that nothing was ever going to be true for everyone and there wasn't a damn thing I could do about it. Philosophy just wasn't my cup of tea. So instead of worrying about that, I shifted gears and worried instead about what I should wear to the White House.
The girls were more than happy to offer a multitude of suggestions, the least outlandish of which was showing up in my birthday suit.
Peggy said it would make one hell of a presidential photo-op, and the three girls proceeded to laugh themselves silly.
I was tempted to do it, if only to get back at them, but upon further reflection decided that the last thing I needed was the entire Secret Service on my payroll.
The morning of October 1st found me sitting at the breakfast table wearing a light gray suit and a black polo shirt. I'd left my pistols locked up in the pantry gun safe. Over the summer months I'd gotten out of the habit of wearing them, preferring instead my more innate abilities.
It had been a hectic summer and while I'd been busy working on my personal issues the rest of humanity continued plodding along their own paths.
On June 9th the Serbs signed an agreement to pull troops out of Kosovo, but only after eleven weeks of air attacks by NATO forces. Nelson Mandela retired as president of South Africa on the16th and Kurdish leader Abdullah Ocalan was sentenced to death for treason in Turkey on the 29th. From July 2nd to the 5th a white supremacist went on a shooting spree in the Midwest, killing three people (including himself) and wounding eight. The U.S. soccer team defeated China on July 1st for the women's World Cup. Rafael Reséndez-Ramirez, a serial killer, surrendered himself to U.S. authorities on the 13th. On the 16th J.F.K. Jr., his wife Carolyn Bessette Kennedy, and sister-in-law Lauren Bessette were killed in a plane crash off the coast of Martha's Vineyard. Colonel Eileen Collins became the first woman to head a space shuttle mission the very same day. Boris Yeltsin replaced Prime Minister Stepashin with Vladimir Putin on August 9th, and Islamic militants declared independence for Dagestan then declared a holy war against Russia the following day. On the 17th more than 17,000 people were killed in a 7.4 earthquake in Turkey. On August 31st the people of East Timor voted, during a United Nations-sponsored referendum, to be independent of Indonesia, which then sparked an international crisis when pro-Indonesian forces retaliated by wreaking havoc on the new nation. Israeli Prime Minister Ehud Barak and PLO leader Yasir Arafat announced a peace accord on September 4th. Some nut by the name of Larry Gene Ashbrook went on a rampage in a Texas church, killing seven people and himself on September 15th. NASA accidentally lost a 125 million dollar spacecraft while it was orbiting Mars on the 23rd and dozens of people were exposed to radiation during Japan's worst nuclear accident on the 30th.
And just that morning, Russia'd sent ground troops into Chechnya. More trouble with the militant Islamic neighbors.
As I said, busy, busy, busy. Somehow I'd always been under the impression that Fridays were supposed to be laid back, easy-going days.
Mine never seemed to be.
When I came thru the kitchen door AJ was busy entertaining his sisters by trying to get his cereal spoon to stick to the end of his nose, Lilly was bustling about, dropping off plates of toast and muffins, glasses of milk and pouring coffee for the adults, Izzy had her nose buried in the pages of a book and appeared to be completely unaware of the glass of orange juice she was holding in her left hand just inches from her mouth, and Peggy was staring absently out the window, her fork poking aimlessly at the scrambled eggs on the plate before her.
Lilly handed me a cup of steaming coffee and as I took my place at the table, bent down quickly and kissed me.
Rosie turned in her seat, laughing because AJ's spoon had fallen from the end of his nose, landed dead center in his cereal bowl, and splashed him liberally with its contents.
"Daddy, are you old?" she asked with the eagerness and energy only young children are capable of at seven in the morning.
I blew lightly over the surface of my cup, took a sip and then set the cup down.
"I don't think thirty-one is all that old honey. Why do you ask?"
"You don't look old."
"I don't huh?"
"Uh-uh." she said, shaking her head. "Janey Roberts said her daddy was twenty-seven and he looks a lot older than you."
"Who is Janey Roberts?"
"A girl we met when mommy took us into town to go shopping."
I looked up sharply and glanced around. Lilly slid her hand under my hair and tickled the back of my neck.
"Jeff and Sly went with us, to help carry the groceries." she said quietly.
I relaxed and nodded my head. "Sorry." I whispered.
Lilly chuckled, squeezed my neck and kissed me on the cheek. "You worry too much."
"I know."
I turned my attention back to Rosie, who was examining me with a curiously intense expression.
I smiled at her and slid my arm around Lilly's waist. "You know who's old? Your mom, she's really old."
Lilly punched me over the heart. "Don't tell her that."
Rosie grinned.
"Her birthday's next month and then she's gonna be ancient!" I deadpanned.
"Not so ancient that I can't wear out your little-league butt." she rasped, digging her nails into the side of my neck.
I inhaled sharply, nearly hissing. I could feel tiny electric vibrations emanating from each individual nail. I twisted my head around and looked up.
"You're a feisty little senior citizen, aren't'cha?"
"I'm not the one with all the white hair, junior."
I pushed my chair back using just my legs, pulled Lilly down onto my lap and wrapped both arms securely around her. She struggled for a moment or two then relaxed and snuggled up against my chest.
I lowered my head, pressed my lips against hers and when the tip of her tongue emerged from between those lips, sucked it deep into my mouth.
When I pulled back for a breath of air, every eye was on us. I smiled at them.
"Can't get enough of wrinkled old women." I smacked my lips and squeezed Lilly like a stuffed animal. When she squeaked I eased my grip and she slipped away, moving around behind me.
"Mommy's not wrinkled." Rosie pointed out.
"No? You sure about that?"
"Yeah."
I shrugged. "How 'bout your Aunt Izzy? She's almost the same age you know."
Rosie looked over at her aunt, cocked her head and then shook it from side to side. "Nope, no wrinkles." she announced.
"Well, what about Aunt Peggy? She's older than all of us. She's got to have a few wrinkles."
Rosie looked at me like I'd lost my mind. "Aunt Peggy looks even younger than you daddy."
I smiled at her and winked. "Guess I'd better get my eyes checked, huh?"
Izzy put her book down, pushed away from the table, got up and walked over. She dropped down heavily onto my lap and plastered her lips over mine, running her fingers up into my hair and dragging her nails along my scalp.
I could feel vibrations from her lips and fingers as well. Tickling and tantalizing little shivers that made the surface of my skin quiver with delight.
Izzy broke our kiss and sat up straight. "Wrinkled and ancient, huh?"
My hand slid down over her hip and clamped tightly over one magnificent half of her sweet ass.
"What can I tell you? I just love antiques."
Izzy smiled and patted my cheek a little harder than necessary, leaned forward and put her lips next to my ear.
"Stop being such a bastard. You know she's sensitive about her age." my sister whispered.
Izzy got up and returned to her place at the table, leaving my hand feeling awfully damn lonesome.
I looked over to where Peggy was studiously ignoring the rest of us; still poking away at her food and staring intently out the window as though it held the solutions to all her problems.
She was still pissed; at the girls for, as she saw it, forcing her to confront the inner me like they had, and me for a vast multitude of crimes, the least of which was being four years younger than her.
Peggy was morose, despondent, miffed, ticked off, perturbed, petulant, sulky, angry and sore ... all at the same time and in nearly equal amounts. It was pretty damn impressive really. Most people can't keep more than three strong simultaneous emotions working at one time.
I figured she was going to exhaust herself by mid-morning the way she was going.
"Hey squirt ... how 'bout a hug?"
She continued to ignore me. My smile faded away as I watched her closely. AJ stopped fooling around suddenly and turned his attention on me. Tink and Belle followed his gaze, becoming very quiet and attentive.
Izzy gave me a warning glance and Lilly put both hands on my shoulders, gently kneading the taut muscles below my neck.
I stood up abruptly, and Lilly's hands slid off my shoulders and down my back. I moved quietly around the table to Peggy's chair. With one hand on the back of her chair I pulled it away from the table and gave it a quarter twist.
Peggy dropped her fork on the floor and grabbed the seat to keep from falling off.
"If you won't sit on my lap," I said, dropping down "guess I'll have to sit on yours." I landed easy on her legs, supporting most of my weight with my thighs, calves and by resting my forearms on the back of her chair. Even so, I'm not a small man. Peggy got squashed.
She pounded my back and left side with her hands, groaning and screeching loudly.
"Get off of me, you big lummox!" she wailed.
The kids watched us with wide eyes and wider grins, encouraging Peggy and shouting suggestions on how to unseat me. Lilly had both hands clasped tightly over her mouth, trying to stifle her laughter. Izzy simply smiled and rolled her eyes in disbelief.
"Not till I get my hug." I insisted, swiveling my hips and easing more and more of my weight onto Peggy's slight frame.
Her left hand snaked down between my legs and formed a claw that clamped down over my balls, and a fair portion of my cock, with surprising strength.
"Get off me, stud-boy, or I'll geld you right here and now." she snarled.
I stopped moving and looked down into her upturned face.
"I dare you." I said with a smile.
Peggy grimaced and then her hand increased its closing pressure. I opened a link between us that felt about two inches long and half a mile wide, and then smiled so sweetly that I thought I might develop diabetes on the spot.
"I double-dog-dare you." I taunted gently, bent down and kissed the tip of her nose.
She glared furiously for several seconds then bellowed like an indignant cow, released my balls from the bear-trap of her hand and resumed pounding on my upper body.
"Getoff-getoff-getoff! You're squashing me!" she whined piteously.
"Tell yah what," I replied, "I'm feeling generous, so let's compromise."
Peggy stopped struggling, stopped hitting me and stopped whining. "Compromise?"
I nodded. "After I'm done at the White House I'm coming straight back here. I'll call and give you plenty of time to get ready."
"Ready for what?" she asked suspiciously.
"What I propose is this: you give me a hug now—and it has to be a real rib-cracker—and when I get home you and I will play a game of tag."
"That's your idea of a compromise?"
"Don't you want to know what you get if you win?"
She snorted. "Okay, I'll play along; what do I get if I win?" she mockingly asked.
"Anything your little heart desires."
She stared up at me, trying to decide if I meant what she thought I did. "Anything?"
"Anything. Any-one-thing at all. If you want it and I can get it or give it, it's yours."
"No strings or conditions?"
"None."
Lilly and Izzy looked at one another, some sort of silent information exchange going on between them that I couldn't interpret.
"Can we play too Daddy?" AJ wanted to know.
"Yeah, Daddy, we want to play too!" Belle added, while Tink and Rosie nodded eagerly.
"Sorry guys, not this time. But," I added, seeing and sensing their disappointment, "if you'll wait till we're done, we'll all play ... you guys, your moms and me. How 'bout that?"
They perked right back up and agreed. I returned my attention to the little woman I was sitting on. "So, do we have a deal?"
Peggy was thinking hard. "What happens if you win?"
I grinned like a fiend. "Use your imagination." then ducked my head and kissed her pouty lips.
Peggy threw her arms around my ribs and squeezed hard enough to cause a couple of them to shift out of alignment.
From outside the house there came the sound of helicopter blades thwocking with muted rapidity. My ride was on approach.
"Don't forget your running shoes, squirt." I gave Peggy a final squeeze before standing up.
"Ike," Izzy asked as I headed towards the door that lead to dining room, "what about the President?"
I stopped with one hand flat against the door. Turning half way around, I looked back over my shoulder and shrugged.
"It depends on what he wants from me." I smiled mischievously. "Who knows, this could just be his lucky day. I'm feeling ... magnanimous."
Eric was waiting beside the access door when the helicopter set down on the rooftop helipad. I thanked the pilot, got out and crouch-trotted towards my assistant.
"You're not going to believe this!" he shouted to be heard over the roar of the helicopter blades and engine. The pilot was in the process of shutting it down, but it was still pretty damn loud.
"Believe what?" I shouted back as he opened the door and held it for me. I stepped inside; Eric followed and shut the door securely behind him.
"There's a Secret Service detail parked out front. They're here to take you to the White House."
I raised an eyebrow. "They must think I wouldn't be able to find the place on my own."
Eric chuckled. "What do you want to do?"
"Well, I'm tempted to ignore the free ride, but that would reflect rather badly on the department."
"From what I've picked up on the grapevine the last couple of months, I don't think there's much you could do that would reflect badly on the department."
"How's that?"
"The only cabinet level organizations that have less than a kind word for us these days are HUD, Interior, Energy and Education."
I snorted. "They're the only ones I haven't visited."
"Perhaps they feel slighted?" Eric suggested sardonically.
We bypassed our floor and went straight down to ground level. On the way Eric filled me in on world-wide current events and the overnight flow classified information between various agencies.
We stepped out of the elevator, walked down the corridor to the lobby and passed unchallenged thru the security barriers.
I looked out thru the expanse of glass doors and saw three white vehicles parked directly in front. Two large men in dark suits and sunglasses flanked the leading and trailing vehicles, while a uniformed chauffeur stood attentively by the rear passenger side door.
"Good luck sir." Eric offered a wry smile before turning around and retreating back into the depths of the building.
I pushed open one of the glass doors, stepped out into the morning sunlight and made a bee-line for the chauffeur.
The man's professional demeanor was impressive; he contained his surprise and unease very well. I don't think anyone bothered to tell him what to expect. Hell, there might not have been anyone there who knew for certain what I looked like. Until that summer I'd gone out of my way to keep as low a public profile as I possibly could.
"Doctor Blacktower?" he inquired.
I smiled and nodded. "The one and only."
The four standing Secret Service agents converged on us from my left and right.
"Pardon me sir, but would you mind showing us your ID?" the shortest of the four, on my right hand side, asked politely.
"Sure." I reached slowly into my inner coat pocket, removed the small leather folding case and handed to him, along with the invitation I'd received.
He examined them closely for about twenty seconds and then returned them to me.
"Are you armed sir?" he asked almost off-handedly.
"Not today."
He shifted his eyes to one of the men on my left, who responded with a curt gesture. I'd been scanned with a small hand held metal detector and I wasn't supposed to let on that I knew.
"Thank you Doctor." he said and nodded to the chauffeur. The man opened the rear door and held it while I climbed in. The four agents returned to their vehicles and within thirty seconds we were on our way.
I fully expected to be dropped off unceremoniously at whatever passed for the servant's entrance. Imagine my surprise when we passed the East Wing Visitor's entrance, continued around the back of the building and came to a stop before the North Portico.
The chauffeur hustled around the front of the vehicle and opened the door. As I was getting out I glanced around, getting my first look at the back side of the White House.
It looks pretty big in pictures and on TV. In person it's much more impressive, which I suppose was part of the original design concept.
From the front, or south, it appears to be a three story building, but from the back, or north side, you can tell that there's actually a lower level. I also have it on very good authority that there's even a sub basement level, but very few people outside the household staff even know about it. We were on the ground level directly above, or so the chauffeur informed me, the bowling alley.
Eight Secret Service Agents poured out of the vehicles in front and behind the one I'd been in and quickly flanked me four to a side.
"This way Doctor." the man I'd shown my ID to said, indicating that I was to climb the Portico steps.
I looked up past the brief, gradual incline and saw a small figure standing just inside the recessed door, flanked on one side by a tall woman in a dark pantsuit. With a faint smile on my lips I took the four stairs with two leisurely paces, four of the Secret Service agents forming a box around me, while at the same time keeping a respectful distance. I assume the other four remained behind with the vehicles.
When I reached the top step and moved towards the entryway, the small figure stepped out and extended a hand in greeting.
Pretty much everyone in the world knew what the First Lady looked like. I remember seeing footage of her when she and her husband first came to Washington, nearly seven years before. She looked much younger, more alive and vibrant, back then. Washington has a way of sucking the life out of people who live and work there, and she was no exception.
She'd gained weight, lost much of the vibrancy, and looked weary. No, weary isn't strong enough ... she looked exhausted.
"Doctor Blacktower, I've been looking forward to meeting you."
Well ... that was about the most blatant lie I'd ever come across, in or outside of Washington.
I must have come as quite a shock to her, because when our hands clasped her eyelids, which had been sleepily lowered in what felt to me like poorly concealed boredom, sprang wide open.
"Thank you for the invitation, ma'am." I rumbled softly, giving her fingers a gentle squeeze.
She'd probably gone thru that welcoming charade hundreds of times before, and doubtless had the routine down pat; say the words, make the appropriate gestures and noises at the right times and then get on with the rest of your day/night/week.
And the routine had probably worked well enough for her in the past. But she'd only been dealing with heads of state and ambassadors on those other occasions.
It probably sounds terribly conceited, as well as unbelievably egotistical, but I think I'm safe in saying that she'd never met anyone like me before.
The surprise in her eyes couldn't even compare to what she was feeling internally. She stared at my face for nearly eight seconds without blinking once. Then her eyes ran down my body and back up again, which took another ten seconds or so. In all that time she made no effort whatsoever to take her hand out of mine.
The tall woman behind and to her left finally cleared her throat loudly, snapping the First Lady's trance. She reluctantly withdrew her hand, blushing faintly behind her expertly applied makeup.
"Excuse me, Doctor. You're not quite what I was expecting." she said coolly.
I smiled at the woman and nodded. "That's quite alright, ma'am. I come as a surprise to just about everyone."
She smiled thinly and turned on her heel, waving one arm in the direction of the open doors behind her. Side by side we entered the White House, followed behind by the tall woman and two of the four Secret Service agents who'd been assigned to escort me.
"The President will join us shortly. He's meeting with a few advisors in the West Wing at the moment."
"The business in Chechnya has them pretty worked up I suppose."
"You know about that, do you?" she asked, mildly irritated.
"I learned of it two days ago. My job requires that I pay attention to all incoming and outgoing classified message traffic. Chances are I knew of those troop movements before any of the Joint Chiefs."
We moved thru the Entrance Hall, out into the Cross Hall, turned west and walked briskly to the far end and then made an abrupt right turn. I wasn't getting the nickel tour. The First Lady was in a hurry to get wherever it was we were going.
We passed thru a smaller pair of doors and entered a small hall with a flight of stairs before us and an elevator on our right. The First Lady punched the button for the elevator, which opened right away and the five of us filed in.
The elevator went down to the ground level and we all filed back out, turned right and ended up in the lower level Center Hall, which was much longer, and a bit wider than the Cross Hall directly above.
The First Lady lead off to the right, me on her left and the three Secret Service agents close on our heels.
"My husband is quite an admirer of yours Doctor." she announced unexpectedly.
"Not you though."
She stopped dead in her tracks and looked up at me. "What makes you say that?"
I smiled. "I'm pretty good at reading people. Another job requirement."
She pursed her lips, nodded to herself and then continued marching down the hall.
"I do not share his admiration." she admitted belatedly, and unnecessarily. "In fact, I strenuously opposed inviting you here."
"So you lied when you said you were looking forward to meeting me?"
One of the agents behind us sucked air between their teeth fast enough to generate a shrill whistle.
The First Lady chuckled. "I was being diplomatic."
She took us quickly into the Palm Room whereupon we made a sharp left and exited thru the double doors nearest the corner. Our little parade worked its way along the West Colonnade, turned left at the corner and filed thru the second door on the right, which was the only one in view that was actually open.
"Welcome to the Cabinet Room, Doctor. Please, take a seat." the First Lady said with more grace than she was feeling.
I stood inside the doorway and swiveled my head from side to side with a slow sweeping motion.
Like most people, I'd seen pictures in the paper and short clips on TV of this room; shots of the President surrounded by his cabinet officials and other senior advisors. It always looked, at least to me, as though the long table was far too large for the room's inner dimensions. But, like most things connected with the White House, looks were deceiving. The room was really quite spacious, and the table didn't occupy nearly as much area as I'd supposed.
My guess was that whenever those pictures and film clips were shot, they'd crammed as many people into the room as possible. Made me wonder why they bothered though.
The First Lady pulled out the chair at the head of the table nearest our entry point and eased herself into it, twisting around on the rolling casters so that she could see the doors along the east wall.
Our Secret Service escorts took up positions along that east wall, with the exception of the tall woman who remained three steps behind the First Lady's left shoulder.
After I finished my examination of the room I pulled out the chair closest to the First Lady and sat down heavily with my back to the door and the Secret Service agents who lined the wall.
We sat there for a long, silent three minutes, neither one of us speaking. Her eyes wandered from time to time towards the single open doorway before returning to the fingers of her right hand, which drummed sporadically against the surface of the table top.
After five minutes of silence, broken only by occasional murmurs and brief low pitched muttering from the Secret Service personnel, her eyes snapped up and locked on mine. I'd felt the abrupt shifting of her emotions and was ready; waiting for our eyes to meet, waiting for her to speak.
She was mildly taken aback to find me calmly watching her.
"Deloris was a good friend of mine." she said in a tone that sounded like chilled venom.
I lifted my right eyebrow but said nothing.
"She worked long and hard to get to here."
I lowered my eyebrow and shrugged slightly.
"Sorry, you're going to have to give me something a bit more specific to go on."
"It's not easy for a woman to get anywhere in politics, not even these days. It was even harder twenty years ago when she first came to the Senate."
The light clicked on and when it did a faint, cruel smile crept across my lips.
"Ahhhhhh ... so that's what's got your panties in a bunch."
Her face paled in a flash of indignation. The tall woman behind her took two steps forward.
I snapped my eyes off the First Lady and glared into the sunglass shielded eyes of the female agent behind her, linked and slapped a ring deep into her without even thinking about it.
"As you were!" I barked in my best parade ground voice. The agent stiffened, came to attention and returned to her post.
I looked back at the President's wife. Indignation had been replaced by awe, desire and a mild layer of fearful anxiety. Her fingers continued their drumming, but went from a spastic and erratic beat to something approaching the sound of muffled automatic weapon's fire.
"So—Deloris Gottschalk was your good friend. I wonder, would the two of you have been such good pals if you weren't members of the same Party?"
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