Stanley Steamer Ch. 15: Tanya & Imani

The blonde Viking goddess was seven months along if I guessed right, like Jeri and Pam and my grandma Teresa. She greeted me. "Hello Imani. I'm Lorna." She suckled me. So did the Latina introduced as Mariana, "Call me Mari." I kissed their breasts and turned to face my doom.

"Hello, Imani," Stan said. We kissed nipples. I faced Carole. "Missus LeMay, I--"

She interrupted. "Nobody here is mister, missus, uncle, aunt, whatever. We are who we are. Hi, Imani. I'm Carole." She kissed my breasts. I looked in her eyes and then licked her nipples. "Hello, Carole. It's good to be here, I hope."

Lazlo was not to be denied. "Hell-LOW, Imani!" he said, and sucked smoothly. I bit his nips just to make him wince.

The freckled Celtic nude stood by the tank and took the baby from her breast.

"Hello, Imani. Don't mind Lazy there. I'm Anathea, call me Anny, and come here." We swapped tit-kisses.

My aunt Jeri nestled me in her arms, not too tight against her swollen belly and breasts. "You may wonder why you're here. There's a story. Stan?"

"Why me?" he asked. "Okay. I'll skip the details. Maybe the ladies will show you their journals. But events have brought us together, some planned, some straight off the wall. But the result is, Jeri and Pam and I are a loving unit. We are bound together."

Stan admitted fucking his cousin... and his sister?

"Lorna and Mari are very close to us. They may be moving in soon. Anny and Lazlo... well, Anny can tell you that part. But they're dug in here, too. She welds. Those are her vaginal flowers cluttering the hillsides."

"Appreciate them before they're stolen," Anny said, switching the baby to her other breast. "The big orchid I'm finishing for that ritzy Anaheim bank? It's modeled on Lorna's pussy. I had to cut up one and a half railroad tank cars for the metal. Her pussy is pretty, and big, pretty big. Gonna show us?"

Lorna threw water at her. "Show your own. That piece looks like you modeled with a mirror between your thighs." She pointed at a huge, vivid sculpture.

"Ladies," Stan said. "Anyway, Jeri's friends here got in a bind. I helped them and accidentally, or fortuitously, ran into a couple of singers who will arrive soon. It turns out that the singers and I make good music together, and that Pam's girl Megan, and Tanya and Talia, also make good music with them. They are rather famous now."

Talia had mentioned music in her email. But famous?

"They'll be here soon. But they're not the main event. Weddings will happen tomorrow. My and Pam's mother Ursula will marry a real fucking Polynesian prince. Anny and Lazy will marry, and Carole and I, and a couple of botany professors, and an Indian princess and her girlfriend, unless someone runs."

Carole and Stan, okay. The redheads here, sure. But botanists. A prince and my great-aunt. A lesbian princess. My head was spinning again.

"You're here because Teresa and Ursula want you here. They want you to see our family life. But you need to know this: The rites will be wet and naked, following South Seas tradition. There will be sex, lots of sex. You can join in or not. You can watch or not. You can stay or not. Do or don't what you want. Nobody can force you into or out of anything. But, know what to expect."

I tried to think it through. But then a bell went DING.

"That's the visitor alarm," Carole said. "Someone is coming."

A big SUV rolled in silently. Two Asian-looking women got out of the front doors. Their faces looked familiar... Holy fuck! I know them! They are K-Y Jam! The biggest singing stars in the world now! Right here!

The back doors opened. Out came a girl who looked a lot like Pam only not tired and pregnant, maybe her girl Megan, and... Talia and Tanya! What? Were they all K-Y Jam? Holy fuck!

I told myself to stay calm. Maybe that worked. Or maybe I just froze. Anyway, I did not scream.

All five girls were stripping as they neared the tank. Talia and Tanya were mostly naked when they saw me, stopped, and yelled. They quickly shed clothes and jumped in the tank. We clutched and cried. And kissed everywhere we could.

"Best friends fucking forever," we whispered in sobs.

The others came to us. Nikki Krishnon kissed my boobs and my face! My skin was darker than hers. Kaylee Yakamura mouthed me! Her black hair was straighter than mine. I was slurped by superstars! I wondered what alternate universe I had fallen into.

The five girls held me. Stan, at the tank's rim, sang a low melody. Kaylee and Nikki sang around him. And fireworks exploded in my brain and body. No, it could not be! Yes, it WAS! This was the magic music I had heard! It was real. It was right here. I was inside it. It breathed through me. It made me cum.

"This is what we do," said the girl who must be Megan. "Stan sings or plays something, or Tanya or Talia or I play something, and Kaylee and Nikki sing, and the galaxy changes direction. We don't plan. We just do it."

"This is what we do," Nikki said. "We do it only with Stan or Megan or Talia or Tanya, nobody else. It's more than telepathy. That's why we will marry them."

More head-spinning. Stan, a married-type unit with his sister and their cousin. Stan, marrying the mother of my best friends. The singers marrying Stan and the girls. How many marriages could Stan juggle?

I tried a silly question. "Who is performing these weddings? A witch doctor?"

Aunt Jeri smiled. "Well, as a matter of fact..."

I should not have asked.

=====

I asked about wedding preparations.

"Easy-peasy," Anna said after she put her baby in the tankside crib and joined Lazlo in sucking everyone's tits. "Services will be in my domed pool behind us. Enough towels and poolside pads and lounges, no problem. Bundles of flower blossoms, no problem. Plenty of tropical food, no problem. Plenty of boozes and juices, no problem. Enough beds for all... well, that might get sticky. But we'll manage."

"It'll be a busy day but not stressful," Stan said. Carole sat in his lap -- with his cock inside her, I think. He held her breasts. "Nobody has to dress up fancy. No fancier than a ribbon or tattoo, anyway. Nobody has to say or do anything. Nobody has to go home afterward. We're here for spiritual commitment and raw animal passion."

"The closest we have to a schedule is, try to be present and awake before noon, and don't make yourself leave before you're ready," Pam said. Megan huddled in her pregnant mother's lap. "But that's tomorrow. It's getting late." The sun was behind the mountains. "It's dinnertime. I could even stand some of my brother's burritos. And I get two glasses of wine. Don't try to stop me."

Leaving the tank acked the tit-sucking ritual of entering it. I was not sure if I missed it. I gathered my clothes with the others who had stripped en-route, hoisted my bag, and went inside. I recognized the greatroom from emailed photos. Shoes et cetera were left in a rack behind the kitchen door. The twins led me to a bedroom down the wide hallway. The singers followed.

"What happens with clothes here?" I asked. They did not dress.

"The laundry room is off the kitchen," Talia said.

"Stan likes to keep the house temperature where skin is comfortable," Tanya said. "He likes to see naked women and this is his house. Wear something if you're shy or want to decorate yourself."

"You certainly have nothing to be ashamed of," Nikki said. I tried to wrap my head around a superstar's compliment.

"What I really want to know is, are you musical?" Kaylee asked. Her face looked hopeful. A superstar wants to know!

"Not really. I don't sing or play anything. I write verse, not blank verse, just little rhyming pieces. Tanya or Talia sometimes put them to guitar or piano." Was I being invited into the group? Me, with superstars? And my best friends!

"Forget clothes," Kaylee said. "Do you have any of your writings here?"

I opened my bag. "I always keep my notebook." I turned to a middle page.

Nikki tugged it from me. "Come on, let's go try some music."

The naked musicians forced me up the hall to a space in the greatroom with shelves of sheet music and stringed instruments hanging on the wall. Talia set up folding chairs and a table from a corner closet and extracted a classical guitar. Nikki laid my notebook open on the table.

"What verses have you played?" standing Kaylee asked sitting Tanya.

Tanya turned pages. "Here's one."

"There is no mercy" she laughed

  light glinting at her ear

"There's only hope and consequence

  and circumstance and fear"

He slowly smiled up at her

  and kissed her breasts again

The Zuñi bear at her throat shook

  in the desert wind

She played a bass line, then chords and a melody she heard in the rhythm of my words. The singers exchanged smiles. Their voices took up my words, Nikki's mezzo and Kaylee's soprano, and my world shattered around me.

The song stopped. Tanya turned more pages. "Here's another."

Kyrie looks in the store window

  at treasures too small to shoplift

Feels in a pocket for the gifts

  of life and death and time

Kyrie, all lit up from inside

  ghost electricity and wine

She played. They sang. My insides melted -- guts, skeleton, brain, all turned to mush. I don't know how I remained upright.

The naked superstars came to me, and held me, and kissed me, and stroked me, and kept kissing me.

"I think we have found a songwriter," Nikki said between kisses.

"I think we will marry you tomorrow, too," Kaylee proclaimed.

Holy fuck.

Dinner prep in the kitchen area had stopped during the music. Stan walked to a landline phone on the wall -- cell signals did not reach here, Talia had said.

"Excuse me, ladies and germs," he said. He punched numbers.

"Ellise, it's Stan. Fax us another representation contract, but for a lyricist, not a performer. Call Luiz; tell him to set up a corporate structure for the new member of K-Y Jam. She is Imani Barnes. Her full name?" He looked at me.

"Imani Nagosa Lilith Barnes," I said. "Mom was a Nagosa. Do you want I.D.?"

"No need, cousin -- your new agent Ellise will handle the details," he said, and then returned to the phone. "Yes, right now. And let Sony know the next show will be different and their profits will be monstrous. Yes, she's that good. The ladies are going to sweep all the charts. Yes, really. Get ready for the typhoon."

He issued more orders and hung up. "Dinner, anyone?" he asked, deadpan.

We sat naked at the long dark wood table. The burritos were not bad. I maybe drank too much wine and talked too much. Nobody interrupted me. Stan fetched papers from his office. He set them and a pen before me.

"Sign all I marked. Don't argue, just sign. This is the biggest day of your life."

"Yes, yes, yes!" the musicians all cried. I signed.

"Multiple layers of security are in place. Vicious legal barracudas will protect you from the world. I will protect you from them. The ladies will protect you from me, probably. You need only protect yourself from yourself."

He asked, "Do you know the difference between a poet and a songwriter? No? The answer is: Royalties, the gift that keeps on giving. A true story. Robert Altman was paid seventy grand to direct the film M*A*S*H. He asked his songwriter, Johnny Mercer, for a piece with the dumbest possible lyrics. Mercer said he couldn't write that dumb. Altman's fourteen-year-old son Mike volunteered, and penciled the words to SUICIDE IS PAINLESS. That melody became the TV show's theme. Every time a rerun airs, Mike gets royalties. He makes millions of bucks, even though his words are never heard, because of his songwriter credit."

Stan was emphatic. "You are about to be very rich, Imani. You are the lyricist for the world's hottest act. You don't have to go anywhere or do anything. Go back to Kansas if you want, live quietly while your cash accounts swell, write more if you are moved to, or forget all about us. But fax us your notebooks. The ladies will put music to your words and grow money. Stay here if you want, or move to the ladies' condo, or to your folks in Palm Springs, or to the college or sin city of your choice, or none of the above. But we start with you letting me copy your notebook here. May I?"

I nodded numbly. Could all this be true? Was I in a coma, dreaming? Very rich? Me, a middle-class half-black girl in my first year at college, suddenly wealthy? And wanted by superstars?

The superstars hugged and tugged me. "Come," Nikki said. "We love you."

She guided me into the master bedroom, obviously Stan's, and laid me on the big bed, my arms stretched, my legs spread. The superstars lay beside me and kissed my hands, my arms, my face, and my breasts, down my body, down my legs. The superstars kissed my feet. My feet! They kissed my thighs. Their heads nuzzled in my crotch. Together, the superstars licked my pussy.

Talia kissed my breasts. Tanya kissed my mouth, then joined her twin nursing me as Megan took my tongue with hers. The twins! My lovers! My cousins! Megan, another cousin! Where was I? I orgasmed almost continuously.

The bed's occupants shifted. Talia crouched between my knees and went down on me, oh god, just like in Kansas. The superstars suckled me. Megan kissed my mouth. The bed quivered. I raised my head and saw Stan on his back, his head between Talia's legs. He was eating his daughter's pussy and handling her swinging tits. His cock was a totem pole until Tanya knelt on the floor and swallowed it, all the way, her lips at his pubic thatch. She was deep-throating her father.

Megan looked into my eyes. "Yes?" she asked. "Yes," I said. She swung a leg over my head and dropped her pussy to my mouth. I licked eagerly. My eyes reached for hers. My hands reached for her breasts.

I was embedded in K-Y Jam. I knew that now. Friends and family. Holy fuck.

===== [Saturday]

The sleeping arrangements -- no, call them overnight arrangements -- startled me. Jeri had her own room down the hall but bedded with Pam and her Megan. Was Megan a motherfucker? Megan confided that she was hurt by Ursula's pending marriage and removal to the South Seas because they usually shared a bed. I'm sure her grandma is a GILF -- but really?

Lorna and Mariana shared a room with twin beds. No, not gay. The singers and the twins barely fit in their big bed. Like at their condo, they said. Anny, Lazlo, and baby Callista filled Anny's room. I was in bed with Stan and Carole, the parents of my best friends. We fucked. Everyone fucked. I got the picture.

Our morning started well after the dawn noise I was warned of: roadrunners on steel shed roofs. I woke to pee and clean. Stan and Carole followed me for sanitation and then back to bed. Carole ate my pussy while Stan fucked her from behind. Then I lay on my back and ate her pussy while he fucked me silly and kissed her madly. He did not cum in me.

Jeri, Pam and Megan came to the room. Stan lay on his back with his sister Pam's pussy on his cock and their cousin Jeri's pussy on his mouth. Megan knelt beside them to kiss and rub the very pregnant women. I thought, why not? I stroked their glowing bodies. So did Carole. This felt right.

Stan still had not cum. "Me," I said. I 69'd on top of him. His tongue and lips worshiped my pussy. My mouth worshiped his cock. I had seen enough porn videos to know what to do. So I did it. It worked. He filled my mouth with semen -- only a little bleachy. He filled my pussy with joy.

I was in love with the Rancho. And we had not even breakfasted yet.

=====

Everyone dressed in varied shorts and tees -- uniform of the day, I thought.

"These clothes are just for now," Pam said. She seemed to be in charge of the house and festivities. "After everyone arrives, we'll be in skin. Formal wear will consist of a ribbon around your neck or whatever."

Breakfast was huge piles of meats, fish, cheeses, egg dishes, potatoes, tortillas, beans, salsas, breads, jellies, fruits -- enough for several dozen Imperial storm troopers, washed down with coffees, teas, juices, boozes, whatever.

I thought it was overkill. Then cars started arriving. The Korean couple were botany professors Babs and Newt. The two women were striking Cahuilla Indian princess Tina and okay bottle-blonde Frieda. I knew the Audi -- my mom and dad! I had not seen them for months. Yes, we hugged and kissed.

A BMW arrived with a real blonde in a short red skirt and a loose silk blouse over her six-months-pregnant figure.

"I could NOT miss this," she said. "Who's the new one? Oh, it must be you!"

She came to me and hugged me.

"Hello, I'm Ellise. And you're Imani?"

I pulled her top up and kissed her puffy breasts. "Hello, Ellise."

She pulled my tee up and sucked me. "Hello, Imani. Mucho gusto, glad to know you." She sucked again.

"Hey Ellise, don't fuck the talent," Stan said. He walked over and slurped her tits. "She's our agent, Imani. She takes a cut of everything. In return, she does or farms out the hard work. You are about to make her very, very wealthy."

"She had better! That's quite a deal you worked into the contract. How do I know she's worth it?"

"Everybody!" Stan called. "Come on back to the nook! Grab instruments, oh my lovely daughters! Tune up your tonsils, oh glorious singers! Imani, get your notebook. It's showtime!"

The shod shed shoes at the door and trooped into the greatroom I had my notebook. Talia held a guitar. Megan handed Tanya a keyboard the size of a cigarette carton but flatter and with a mouthpiece. I recognized a melodica.

I laid my notebook on the kitchen island. Tanya opened it, read a page, put the melodica to her lips, and played a tune I barely recalled from our past. Nikki and Kaylee sang my words. And rainbows flashed around us.

They stopped. Talia read another page and played a spare guitar part. The singers sang. Hearts stopped in all who heard, then restarted, buzzing.

Ellise collapsed on the floor. "Omigod omigod omigod..." she chanted. All the listeners were holding someone and crying, even Stan and Megan. "Omigod omigod omigod..." Ellise whined. She looked at us.

"I should shoot you all right now. You are going to destroy the recording industry, all the media entertainment industry. Nobody will buy anything but your music. All my other clients, EVERYONE's clients, will just blow away."

She smiled. "No, I think I'll wait till I have a hundred million in the bank. THEN I can shoot you."

"Better make that pounds, not pesos," Stan said. "Just a warning, Ellise -- my clients are bigger than your clients." His sharp teeth glinted when he smiled.

Motor noise fell from the sky -- a helicopter was approaching.

"As a matter of fact..." Stan said. "Let's go greet the guests of honor now. Say Ellise, just what did you expect here today?"

"I heard the girls were having a group wedding," she said. "You and all the girls. And your new girl. Did I get something wrong?"

"So your leaker didn't mention royal weddings and exotic rites? Stay here and you'll get fucked for sure, and not by the talent. Will hubby Arno mind?"

Her answer was drowned by din of the helicopter landing at the rough helipad beyond the steel barns. Its engine and rotor noise died off.

My uncle Stan and my dad Larry put on sandals and walked to the chopper. I did too. I saw three men and three women leave the craft. My grandma Teresa held the hand of a tall dark woman; both wore sleek, bright sundresses, as did Teresa's sister Ursula, holding the hand of a tall dark man. He, and another dark man with a briefcase, wore light suits and open-toed sandals. The last man, in flight uniform, pulled a handcart loaded with bags.

Stan and Larry stopped the civilians. I pointed the co-pilot or whatever to the house, and then caught up with the adults.