A Tale of Two Paramours Ch. 03

I would have been concerned she was really offended, had she not prefaced her comment with the words "naughty boy." I was trying to come up with something witty to write when her next text came in.

"I am a big ol' slut, however," she wrote. "And you will get a happy ending tomorrow night. ;)"

For the third time, I felt the flush of embarrassment creep over my face. I wondered if I would have the same reaction if I were somewhere private, or even maybe out in public. I just seemed wrong to be having this conversation, even by text, with a former student while sitting in my office. I was wondering if I should gather up my stuff and find a different place to continue this when a new text from Jessika popped up.

"I am guessing from your silence that I shocked you with the last one," she typed.

"Maybe," I acknowledged.

"You deserved it for asking about happy endings! ;)" she teased me.

"Maybe," I texted again.

"Ok, enough fun. I have to get ready," she responded. "I'll see you tonight?"

"I think so," I hedged.

"Oh, you will be there. You can't resist all this ;)" she joked. She followed that text with the name and the address of the spa, as well as a simple, "Bye."

"Bye, Jessica," I typed out. I had already hit send when I realized my mistake.

I sat and stared at her misspelled name, waiting for Jessika to send back a correction. She did not do so.

"She probably did not think anything of it," I thought. "I am sure that people do it all the time. 'Jessica' is the more common spelling."

But I could not persuade myself of this, and as the day wore on, I was distracted by thoughts of Jessika and Jessi, what I was doing with them both, and how I could manage it. I was beginning to appreciate that I may have put myself in a problematic position by giving in to lust with both of them.

I did not worry about Jessika's self-esteem or expectations - everything we had done and spoken about so far suggested to me that what Jessika and I were exploring was casual in nature. Furthermore, I did not think Jessika was in the least worried about her attractiveness, to me or anyone else. I knew I could have been reading that situation wrong, but I did not think so. My only concern with Jessika was making sure I kept my encounters with Jessi a secret from her. While I did not think Jessika likely had any plan for a long-term relationship, I suspected she might balk at my relationship with the younger woman.

The situation with Jessi was much more complicated. While it might seem to an outside observer that our evening the night before had been just about sex, I was now quite sure that had not been the case. Our encounter had been about Jessi trying to keep it all about sex but failing. And I had failed at that as well. I knew from class that the young blonde had social awkwardness issues, and I had suspected she had self-esteem issues as well, but I had pushed kissing her. I had broken through her comfort zone.

"Why did you do that?" I asked myself. Sex with Jessi had clearly not been dependent on an emotional attachment. To the contrary, she had tried to avoid exactly that. But it had not worked - we had shared more than just physical intimacy. And, when I was honest with myself, I knew it was not just her. My fascination with her - intellectually, emotionally and sexually - had increased, not decreased, in the wake of what I had to admit was not only the best sexual encounter I had ever experienced, but was also an intense emotional connection.

To complicate matters, I had already admitted to Jessi that I had been with Jessika. Given what I now understood to be the context of whatever was happening between Jessi and me, I realized why she had been so upset about my admission. It was not just jealousy of Jessika physically, as I had thought when I learned that Jessi had, at least in her own mind, nicknamed the older brunette "Big Tits." Yes, jealousy was part of it, but because of me, and my apparently obvious attraction to Jessika in class, not merely because of Jessika's physical attributes. However, whatever the source of the young blonde's jealousy, I did not believe that emotion is what had caused Jessi's anger last night. I had hurt her, and worse, I had hurt her even though she had been determined not to allow a sufficient level of intimacy for me to hurt her. But perhaps worst of all, after the hurt, I had then, through my actions, further battered down her barriers, opening her up to more hurt.

"I cannot see Jessi again," I told myself dozens of times, but each time, memories of her and anticipation centered around the sexy picture she had sent me of her in her cat costume, as well as her statement of what she would do to while she was wearing it, overwrote my better judgment. By the time the afternoon had worn down, though, I had resolved two things. First, for the emotional wellbeing of us both, I would contact Jessi the next day to end whatever it was that was going on with her and give up the promises of what was to come next. And second, I would go visit Jessika for a massage.

***

I felt a little out of place that evening as I walked into the spa. I had never been to one before, and it felt a bit alien to me, as I had suspected it would. It did not help when it occurred to me that part of the problem was that I thought as spas as a place to which women went.

"You are a horribly sexist pig for an educated man," I scolded myself. But I could not help it. For some reason, in my mind, spas were associated with women and pampering.

The woman at the front desk was a blonde woman in her mid-thirties with a long but not unpleasant face. But it was not her face that drew most of my attention. She was wearing a tight, red t-shirt with the name of the spa emblazed across it - at least I thought it was the name of the spa. Her bosom was so large that the lettering was distorted and hard to read without staring, and I was trying hard not to stare.

"Her breasts are even bigger than Jessika's," I thought to myself as I looked up to the receptionist's green eyes and smiling face.

"Can I help you, sir?" she asked sweetly.

"Um... um..." I stammered, "I, uh, want a massage."

"Okay," the receptionist told me. "I will see who is available."

"Jessika told me about tonight," I blurted out. "Is she available?"

"She should be done soon," the woman informed me. "Do you want fifteen minutes or half-an-hour?"

"Ummm," I answered, worried that the woman would think I was a dullard who was unable to form a coherent thought as I managed to stammer out a question, "thirty, um, thirty minutes is the longest time?"

"Yes, sir," she replied, "If you want the special. An hour massage would cost more. Also, Jessika is only doing the shorter massages tonight."

"Okay," I replied, relieved to have my choice more or less made for me. "I will take a thirty minute massage."

After writing down my name, the receptionist suggested I take a seat in the lobby. As I did so, I could not help but notice a fleeting look of concern or suspicion cross her face. I wondered if she was worried about my request for Jessika to perform the massage. Perhaps they had people who became enamored with certain masseuses. It would be easy to see that happening to the lovely, curvy Jessika.

I tried to read a little bit on my phone, but I was unable to concentrate. I was especially distracted when, following an elderly gentlemen leaving the spa, the blonde receptionist stood up and walked through a door I could only assume led into the spa itself. Part of the reason for my distraction was the body of the receptionist - in addition to her massive breasts, she was tall (I would guess she was taller than my own 5"11') with long legs and tapered hips. However, the main reason her actions distracted me is because I suspected she was on her way back to warn Jessika some weirdo was asking for her.

My suspicion was confirmed when Jessika walked out into the waiting room with the receptionist. Two things struck me - the grin on Jessika's face and how the blonde amazon beside her made the curvaceous brunette look almost petite.

"Hi Mark!" Jessika said as she approached me, holding out her hand. I stood up and offered mine, anticipating she was going to shake it. Instead, she used it to pull me into a big hug. After she broke the hug, Jessika, her hand still in mine, led me though the door. I thought about looking back at the receptionist to see how she had responded to Jessika's display of affection, but I did not do so.

When we reached an empty room with a massage table in the center of it, Jessika pulled me in, closed the door, and started laughing.

"What's so funny?" I asked.

"Candi," she said between laughs.

"I don't follow..." I started to say, not understanding what candy had to do with anything, but Jessika interrupted.

"Candi is the receptionist's name," she clarified. "She thought you were some kind of stalker."

"I was a little nervous," I admitted. "I was feeling somewhat out of place."

Jessika was trying to suppress her laughter, but she was not doing a good job. I felt my cheeks flush.

"Sorry," she said, after she gained some control of her laughter. "Candi watches out for us, especially on Tuesday nights. We can get some weirdoes. But I never thought she would think you were one of them."

"I guess it is funny," I admitted.

"The other thing that happens sometimes," Jessika continued, with a mischievous grin on her face, "is that men get pretty tongue-tied when they first see Candi. Well, when they see her rack, that is."

"I had not noticed," I lied with mock indignation, which sent Jessika off in another fit of laughter.

"How could you not notice," she chortled. "They are huge!"

"I only noticed because I could not read the writing on her t-shirt very well," I explained, which renewed Jessika's laughter.

Then, shaking her head and taking a deep breath to arrest her laughing, Jessica arched her back so her own large chest was pushed out.

"Can you read the writing on my shirt," she asked with a wink and a smile.

I really noticed Jessika's shirt for the first time then. It was not as tight as Candi's, nor was the lettering on it as distorted (although I still had trouble making out the first and last letters, which were stretched around either side of Jessika's bosom), but something else that I could not at first place struck me as odd about her shirt. Then it hit me - I had never before seen Jessika wear anything that did not reveal at least some cleavage, but the rounded collar of the t-shirt revealed nothing.

"I am having a bit of a problem with the first and last letter," I admitted.

"But not as bad as with Candi?" she asked, still smiling.

"No," I said, hoping to be past this soon; I could still feel my face burning.

"Our boss has asked her to wear her shirts a little looser, but she likes the attention," Jessika said with a shrug. "And who am I to cast stones - it is not like I don't wear clothes to emphasize my boobs."

"Ummm," was all I could muster before Jessika continued.

"And would you believe she is all natural?" she asked, watching me closely.

"Ummm," was all I could say again - I was not sure what to say about Jessika's own implants. We had not discussed them at all that evening we spent together, and I could not tell now whether she wanted me to comment on them or whether she was trying to figure out if I had realized her breasts were augmented.

"What am I doing wasting your time talking boobs," Jessika teased, although I think she actually changed the subject because she had realized I was uncomfortable, not because of a time issue.

"Here is your towel, sir," she said, handing me a fluffy white towel. "You know the drill - disrobe, put the towel around your waist, and lie face down on the table. I will be right back."

With fond memories of my massage last Thursday playing in my head, I took off my clothes. I hung my coat, shirt and pants on the hangers provided, and put my shoes, socks and underwear in a bin on a low shelf. As I did so, I took the opportunity to take in the details of the room. Bamboo plants grew from pots placed in three corners of the small room. All four walls were green, although one was darker than the rest. Long narrow tapestries with Japanese writing and images were hung various places. Salt rock lamps and candles were perched on shelves as well as on a small table, on which various bottles of oils were also carefully arranged. Calm music that sounded to my ear Japanese wafted from speakers in the ceiling.

"Well," I thought as I lay on the table, "this is not so bad. It is rather relaxing."

I heard the door open and the lovely brunette masseuse walked to the table with the bottle of oil. I was unsurprised, yet still oddly disappointed, that she still wore the t-short and a pair of black pants rather than having changed to a silk robe.

"I liked the silk robe better," I commented as she began massaging warm oil onto my back.

"Mmmm," she responded, "so did I."

She then worked the muscles of my back with increasing force, and I was rendered speechless. She methodically worked across my shoulders, than down one side and up the other. I felt the tenseness of my muscles, which I had not really noticed, melt away, as did many of my worries.

I was surprised when Jessika leaned down close to my ear and whispered, "We only have about five minutes left, although I can stretch that out some," she told me, before adding, "So, roll over."

As with the previous massage Jessika had given me, her talented hands on my body had brought forth an erection. I was hesitant to roll over, even knowing she had seen it all before. We were in her place of work, after all.

"I do not think that is a good idea," I started to tell he just as she pushed me on my side with surprising force and pulled the towel from in front of my groin. The instant my penis was in the open she leaned down and sucked it into her mouth.

Continuing to lie on my side, not sure what to do, I groaned, and reached over to stroke her soft, wavy, chocolate colored hair.

Pulling off, Jessika whispered urgently, "Roll on your back. This is an award angle for me if you want a happy ending."

"Oh," I replied as I positioned myself on my back. Jessika attacked my upright penis with even more vigor.

Wrapping one hand around the shaft, she began to stroke up and down the lower half as her lips and tongue tended to the upper half. Her free hand sought, found and fondled my testicles. The incredible combined sensations from her hands and her mouth brought me to the edge in almost no time.

Breathing hard, I warned Jessika of my impending eruption: "I am almost there," I said just before I felt my penis twitch and semen shoot from it into Jessika's warm, wet mouth. When my ejaculation was spent, the sexy brunette stood up, drew my towel over my rapidly shrinking penis, and quickly swallowed the contents of her mouth.

She then leaned forward, gave a quick kiss, and whispered, "Our time is up. So, please hurry - for me."

As I sat up, I noticed that her hair was mussed where I had fondled it while she had fellated me.

"Jessika," I warned her, "your hair..."

"Thanks," she said as she opened the door. "I'll text you later."

I dressed quickly, and I was walking through the door into the waiting room just as Candi had been standing up. When she saw me, she sat back down and asked, a smirk on her face, "Did you get lost back there?"

"No," I replied. "I was just getting dressed."

"Well, Jessika said she was done about five minutes ago," the tall blonde informed me.

"I apologize," I told her. "I was just taking my time."

"Other people are waiting," she advised me before turning to an elderly woman sitting in the waiting room. "Jessika's room is free now, Mrs. Celek. You can go on back. Jessika will meet you there"

I shook my head, amused at the implied admonishment directed at me by Candi's words to the other patron. If only the receptionist had known the truth behind my tardiness.

Later that night, I was sitting at home reading when I heard the text message come in. I picked up my phone from the end table beside me and read Jessika's text.

"OH MY GOD! I can't believe I did that! I am such a little whore," she wrote.

"It was all fantastic," I assured her in my reply. "Both the massage and the happy ending. ;)"

"I am glad you liked it. You are not getting another one," she wrote back.

"Do you mean the massage or the happy ending?" I asked.

"You know which one!" she shot back.

"At all or just after a massage?" I needled her.

"After you pay for a massage. I feel incredibly cheap," she complained.

I was not sure how to respond. I had not asked her to do it, other than joking. I had not stopped her either, of course, but that did not feel the same as if I would have pushed her to do it.

"I also feel incredibly horny," her next message read, and I realized she was not truly upset.

"Do you want to come over," I asked. I was a little uncertain if I could perform completely given how many times I had ejaculated in the past two days, but I knew I could return the favor using my mouth and tongue.

"No," she sent, and the rest of her reply caught me a little off-guard. "I kinda want to be alone. I really do have mixed emotions about what we did."

"Sorry, Jessika," I texted.

"I am just being weird," she wrote. "But don't be surprised if I call you tonight if I can't sleep."

"Okay," I assured her.

"And I definitely still want you to come over tomorrow night," she added.

"Okay, I will," I responded, and then another thought struck me, and I quickly typed out another message: "Come to my place tomorrow evening instead. I will fix you a nice dinner."

Several minutes went by before Jessika texted me back: "Sounds great! I will bring the wine!"

***

Over the course of the next day, Jessika and I texted back and forth several times, setting the time for our dinner (6:30pm) and establishing the type of wine (some kind of red - I was little help there as I am far from being a wine aficionado). Other than a teasing suggestion by Jessika that I not overtax myself during the day, none of our texts touched what we both knew was the real purpose of our get together. I think we were both purposefully avoiding the subject in order to build our anticipation.

The other thing I avoided was contacting Jessi, even though I had resolved to do so the day before. I did not know how to start that conversation, however, and since I had not heard from her since Monday night, it was easier to just to put off the problem until I had to address it.

That is not to say I did not think about the petite blonde throughout the day. Whenever I had a free moment, I started worrying about how to handle talking to her about not meeting up again. Unfortunately, one of the issues with thinking about Jessi was that doing so invariably led to me remembering the intensity of our evening together, as well as the promise that more of that was possible in the future. At such thoughts, my resolve would start to waver and I would have to build it up again. To prevent the indecision this process was starting to evoke, whenever my mind wandered down paths that led me to thinking about Jessi, I would redirect my thoughts toward my anticipation of spending time with Jessika.

A little before 6:20, as I was starting the rice and preparing a pan for searing salmon for dinner, I heard the ping from my phone indicating a text had arrived. I expected it to be Jessika updating me on when she would arrive. It was not - the message was another media content link from Jessi. Staring at the link, my mind waged a furious debate on whether or not to open the link. The more rational part of my mind lost that fight.