The press report was rather obscure and vague.
Deliberately.
The Music Hall's public relations director managed to pull in every single favor ever owed her by anyone with any power and got the story buried deep in the section B of the "Kansas City Star."
Thankfully, there was no TV coverage although the ranking police officer on the scene that night wanted to call either Hazmat or the Centers For Disease Control and Prevention, either of which would have triggered a media circus.
The officer was gently persuaded by the PR director to not call either organization. Not only was the officer a friend of the PR director but also there was a tape of the event; a tape that showed the officer in several compromising positions with women of indeterminate age.
With a few exceptions, none of the participants in the event wanted to say anything publicly; it was all just too bizarre. Those who did want to talk were either threatened or paid for their silence. Miraculously there weren't even any lawsuits.
The event did trigger two rounds of calls among the intelligence and defense community in Washington D.C. when the event was reported to Washington by a local FBI Counter-Intelligence officer who had participated in the event.
The first round of calls were of the feverish, frightened, "Okay, whose secret project got loose in public?" variety.
Once everyone took inventory of their secret projects and found no one was responsible the second round of calls discretely dispatched teams of government scientists to analyze every aspect of the event - for potential use by either the CIA or the Department of Defense.
The final top-secret report delivered to the Secretaries of Defense, State, Homeland Security, the Director of Central Intelligence and the National Security Adviser concluded that the event was a freak natural occurrence that could not be artificially reproduced. Hence, there was no need for alarm on behalf of the public and there was no practical defense or intelligence applications to be developed.
The report was filed away.
The Music Hall's public relations director would alternate between having nightmares and vivid, disturbingly erotic dreams for months following. Both of which would leave her soaked in sweat and shaking in her bed. She was one of the unwitting participants in the event.
The event lasted 30 minutes, give or take, involved 90 people, give or take, and nine months later produced a total of 33 children; all of them healthy though their paternity was almost always unclear.
~~~~~~~~~~
Violin virtuoso Itzhak Perlman was booked for two nights at the Music Hall in August, the dog days of summer in Kansas City.
The Music Hall, built in the Depress era, is a relatively small, intimate space, designed for classical and operatic music.
And on the two nights Maestro Perlman played it was very intimate and close. The ancient air conditioning was in the process of failing the first night and had completely failed by curtain time on the second night.
Temperatures on the floor and stage were bearable but just bearable. But by the middle of the concert on the second night, the temperature in the upper balconies was stifling. Several elderly patrons were escorted from their seats and given medical attention for heat exhaustion.
The Maestro, seeing the hall almost full despite the heat, played with a driven passion. Despite the heat in the upper balconies the concertgoers were enraptured. Time seemed to stand still. Then suddenly, the curtain came down and the house lights came up.
It was intermission. The patrons in the rear balcony filed out into the rear balcony lobby which was a fractional degree cooler than the seats.
According to the top-secret government report it was Dr. and Mrs. Wayne Thomason of Prairie Village, Kansas who started - or were first effected by - the event.
Marie Thomason, a slim, petite woman in her late 30's, slouched against the marble wall of the rear balcony lobby. Her eye makeup was running just a bit; she wiped sweat away from under her eyes, her mind unfocused.
Suddenly Dr. Thomason exclaimed to the crowd in the lobby and to his wife, "I have to have you NOW Marie!" And with that exclamation he took his wife by the shoulders, spun her around so her face pressed the marble wall and unzipped her black cocktail dress. He then spun her back around so that she faced him.
"Wayne?" Mrs. Thomason was confused about what was happening.
"Now Marie! Please!"
Marie Thomason looked at her husband for a brief moment then without any further comment or hesitation, in the presence of 75 to 80 people, Marie Thomason, secretary of her children's PTA, Sunday school teacher at the Colonial Presbyterian Church and member in good standing of the Junior League of Kansas City, slipped the black dress off her shoulders and let it fall to the floor.
Marie had small, firm breasts to compliment her athletically toned body. Because of the heat, she went without a bra. She stood before her husband in only a pair of high cut black panties, thigh high black hose and three quarter inch, round-toed black leather pumps.
Equally without hesitation Dr. Wayne Thomason, 50'ish, respected cardiologist and a charter member of the Moral Majority ripped off his evening jacket.
He slipped his suspenders off, dropped his trousers and boxers and exposed a large, throbbing erection jutting from his body at about a 75-degree angle. He advanced on his wife, picked her up and with some feverish and clumsy effort he pushed the crotch of her French panties aside and with her legs wrapped around his hips, he penetrated her.
She screamed at the taking. "Ohhhhh, God Wayne! DO ME! Yesssss!"
"Take it baby! Take my cock!" and he bellowed like a bull.
The assembled crowd applauded.
Susan Millhouse, a junior high school music teacher, was sweating profusely and feeling incredibly aroused by seeing the Thomason's coupling. She shed her dress and underwear and knelt in front of her husband. She opened his fly, and for the first time in 10 years, found a very hard cock without the aid of Viagra.
Herb Millhouse, equally uncharacteristic of his bland CPA demeanor, looked down at his wife as she ran her tongue around his cockhead, put his hands in her hair and growled, "Suck me good you sweet fucking bitch!"
There was more applause and then shrieks, groans and urgent shedding of clothes - by everyone.
Anne Hunter had just finished peeing in the ladies lounge. She too was sweating profusely, lightheaded and panting shallowly.
She wasn't even aware that she was so aroused until she opened the door to the stall and saw a junior colleague from her office, Joanne Diamond, splashing water on her face at the lavatory.
Anne, who was a very attractive, closeted bi-sexual corporate lawyer, noticed for the first time this evening the intense blood heaviness of her cunt and the slickness between her thighs.
She quickly crossed the space between the stall and the lavatory, grabbed Joanne's upper arm and rather brusquely said, "C'mon Joanie, let's fuck. You're gonna give it up for me, you teasing little straight girl!"
Joanne's response, completely out of character for a woman who was "gay tolerant" and boasted of having "lesbian friends" but was repulsed by the idea of sex with a woman: "Before you make me do you, I want you to suck my cunt Anne."
As Anne drug the straight girl into the stall she was heard to say, "Oh, don't you worry, sweetheart, that's just exactly what I had in mind."
Flinging Joanne against the stall wall, Anne knelt, pushed Joanne's skirt up, ripped her panties off with several violent, clumsy tries and buried her face in Joanne's musky - and extremely wet - sex.
Anne's husband, Michael, was waiting for his wife with her best friend, Anneka Sorenson, just outside the lounge.
Michael was tall and muscular. Anneka, in stark contrast to Anne, was tall, blond and very fair skinned.
