Deputy PorterChapter 177
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Double TwistChapter 177 free porn video
“I’ve never been accused of poetry before.”
—Robert Charles Wilson, A Bridge of Years
THE REST OF THE AFTERNOON was no less exhausting or emotionally draining than the first half-hour. They tossed a few softballs my way to get things started, asking questions about the specific comments on the proposed law. Apparently, a couple of these folks had assistants who had already read and summarized for them.
Gradually, we got into the content of my prepared notes. They didn’t really have a lot to say about my proposal on pods. Someone asked if my pod had an equal number of men and women and then followed up asking if I slept with all of them. Dr. Donahue stepped in at that point and suggested the question was irrelevant and showed only a prurient interest.
There was some suggestion regarding the timeline of converting service management to internally grown instead of externally hired. It didn’t seem that they had a big problem with the concept but felt five years might be too aggressive a timeline to enforce. The conversation wandered around a bit when it came to having older people volunteer and whether it would ever attract the right caliber of person. That led to attracting the wrong caliber of person and resolving issues of unemployment and homelessness with volunteer service.
Then they got around to my diatribe about agricultural workers.
“You can’t expect me to seriously believe we are housing long-term laborers in platform tents,” one member said. I asked for a projection device for my computer and showed pictures Celia had sent me of their barracks. There was a close-up of Leslie. That beautiful girl who was one of our star cheerleaders looked ... old. I called up a picture I’d taken of their pod two years ago and no one could believe it was the same girl.
I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised that there was outrage about Celia sleeping her way up the National Service chain of command to get assigned with her pod mate. And the arguments were on both sides. One group was incensed that the management chain took advantage of a corps person and extracted sexual favors in return for favorable placement. Another faction was upset that Celia had subverted the established procedures for placement and assignment.
“I think you are all missing the point,” I said. “There should never have been a situation in which placement with her pod mate was at issue. It should have been automatic. We created the situation on both sides by not having relationships taken into consideration up front. In fact, if Celia and Adrienne, the youngest of that pod, had known they could volunteer at seventeen, they probably would have entered service together and hoped to be assigned together.”
Well, that started another bunch of crap when some of the commission apparently didn’t know a student could leave high school and volunteer at seventeen. I hoped that didn’t mess up our chances with Cindy.
Eventually, the questions ran down and we were allowed to leave. Dr. Donahue said she would see me tomorrow at the school and left. We walked out of the room and Remas bounced up to us, wrapping both Desi and me in a hug.
“Wow! You are legendary,” Remas said. “‘She needs to do it right fucking now’? There are people out there who believe you are pulling the strings on the president.”
“How did you even find out about that?” I asked. “You weren’t in the room.”
“Jacob, unless it’s set up as a closed session, there’s always a feed onto one of the government access stations. I left the auditorium at school to come meet you when it looked like the meeting was winding down. There were about a hundred of us watching the feed there,” Remas said. “You should have heard the applause!”
“Oh, crap! Joan will kill me if that becomes a meme.”
“Come with me. I got your hotel room registered for you. I know you came straight here from the airport. I just want to get you settled and give you some music. Then I’ll make myself scarce. I’ve been told the two of you have plans for the evening. Rachel and I hope you’ll include us tomorrow night,” Remas said. She seemed especially bouncy this evening. And when Remas bounces, she bounces in all the right places. Desi had my right hand and Remas took the left. They had to roll our suitcases.
“I see you only brought one guitar with you. Traveling light?” Remas asked.
“Yeah. Wouldn’t have that if it weren’t for the opportunity for Desi and me to practice a little. What do you have for us?” I asked as we climbed into a cab.
“I hope you like this. You know Sergio Leone wasn’t the only Italian who made spaghetti westerns? I’ve learned a lot about that lately. Anyway, Morricone scored a lot of them that weren’t Leone’s. I figured the important thing we were after was the music and not relating to a specific movie, so I grabbed a couple pieces from other movies to do the suicide scene and a new conclusion. You’ll love this—both of you,” Remas said. I could see why she was bouncing. She was really excited about the new music pieces. One was from Tepepa—viva la revolucion. It was just marked as ‘suicide to revolution.’ I could almost hear it—then I realized Desi was humming it beside me. Yeah. It would be good.
“This next one is a new finale. Jacob, if you don’t use it for this show, I think you’ll want to use it some other time. What a showcase for Desi’s voice! I know you don’t usually do pieces that have actual lyrics, but the theme of Run, Man, Run is right up your alley. You might want to re-write some of the lyrics, but Donna told me you were a good poet and could handle the lyrics.”
“She never told me I was a good poet,” I sighed. “Let’s see it.” I looked at the music enough to verify I could play it. Desi was reading the music and singing the words. It sent chills up my spine.
“Here we are,” Remas said as the cab pulled up to our hotel. “Here’s your room keys. You don’t need to stop at the desk. Everything is covered. Room 827. I’ll be back to take you to the testing center at nine tomorrow morning. Don’t forget to eat. You’ll need your strength.” Desi and I got out of the cab and collected our luggage. It was a quick trip to the elevators and up to our room.
“Desi! What the hell? What are you doing?”
Our bags were on the floor just inside the door. She’d shoved me—none too gently—onto the bed and was tearing at my buckle and zipper.
“Get it out, Jacob. Help me. I need you in me now before I make a bigger puddle than I’ve been making all afternoon. Fuck me fuck me fuck me.”
“What happened, love?” I asked as I pulled my trousers down and Desi stripped. I was a little behind her, but watching her big boobs and shaved slit come into view sent me on a rapid route to readiness.
“They used to say the president of the United States was the most powerful man in the world. Now they say woman. But my man ... YOU, Jacob ... Just ordered the President of the United States to fix the situation in California ‘right fucking now!’ That has to make you the most powerful man in the world and I want that power between my legs. Right fucking now!”
I didn’t agree with her assessment but I couldn’t disagree with her intent. She was ready and I was willing. I still had my stupid socks on when my dick made contact with her box and I pushed inside. Oh, God! Yes! We rolled around on the bed, pumping against each other. We’d come three times before we disconnected the first time. We ordered room service and went back to bed. I wasn’t sure if either of us would be able to walk tomorrow.
We might have been able to walk in the morning but starting in again as soon as we woke up pretty much guaranteed we’d be limping. I was sure I wouldn’t come again for a month. Desi had drained the life out of me. I stayed hard enough to come in her butt one last time before we finally showered, dressed, and went to the hotel restaurant for breakfast. Remas joined us a few minutes before nine, had a sweet roll and coffee and shepherded us to the testing center.
We both had our attitude game on when we settled at the computers we were directed to. We’d practiced this test at least once a week since Ray got us together a year ago. I had no doubts about where I’d place in aptitude and ability. I might not be the greatest musician in America today, but there was no question I was a musician.
Of course, when faced with nine squares, one of which was empty and a squiggle in each of the other eight, and a multiple choice of which of these four squiggles properly completes the set? I wasn’t sure what it had to do with any aptitude at all.
I found it interesting, though, that as the test progressed, the questions did, too. We’d figured out the test was adaptive but it took me a couple of questions before I realized it was asking me math questions disguised as music questions. Sneaky bastards. Speed is one of the components in the test, so I went ahead and answered the questions correctly, but took a fraction longer to answer each question I perceived as math based.
40 measures of a 4/4 score are marked Andante and the conductor counts them at 80 bpm. The next 20 measures are marked Allegro and the conductor counts them at 120 bpm. How much less time will it take to play the Allegro section than the Andante?
Fuckers.
I was also surprised that my test had a section on physical fitness and athleticism. It seemed like this test had a lot more categories of questions than the practice tests we took. I’d need to talk to Ray about that. I wondered if the service had access to his sample tests.
At noon, Desi and I walked out of the test center a little glazed but glad it was over. Remas met us and was atypically quiet as she took us to lunch and made sure we were well-fed and ready for our afternoon. We went back to the hotel and Remas waited politely in the lobby as we went upstairs to change clothes for our interviews and Desi’s audition. There was nothing I could do to help Desi but hold her boobs as she fastened her dress around them. Really. She asked me to.
We met Remas again and went to the school. I had my guitar with me but Desi and I parted ways when we got there. Another student met us and ushered Desi to the small studio where her audition would take place. Remas led me to Dr. Donahue’s office.
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