Avery and Jenna Pt. 14

"Well, it doesn't matter. I think she's gone this time."

"I can't win with you. You just aren't happy being monogamous, are you?"

"I'm sorry, Alicia."

"You know, if you get Jenna back, I'm not going to sleep with you anymore. No matter how much I want you, I won't let you cheat on Jenna with me. I like her too much for that."

"Then I guess I should hurry up and make your fantasy a reality, huh?"

"Don't tease me, Avery. I'm horny enough, already."

"Look, I have to go. I'm supposed to be meeting someone soon."

"All right. Well, call me tomorrow morning, I guess."

"I will."

"Okay. Try to behave yourself."

"I love you, Alicia."

"Yo también te amo, mijo," she said hauntingly. With that, the skype call ended.

Avery tipped his Uber driver from a large wad of cash he kept hidden in his apartment for emergencies. His destination was a café in Washington D.C., specializing in exotic blends and flavors from faraway places. The actual building was quite small. A long line of patrons extended out of the doorway. Avery stood at its end, eyeballing two women, a strawberry blonde and a raven-haired girl, in front of him. They each wore watermelon-colored running jackets and black leggings. The strawberry blonde was taller than her friend, sporting some running shoes that matched her jacket. Her black-haired companion was less coordinated, wearing white and silver sneakers. They were discussing their recent eight-mile run. Both women were lovely, though he ogled the black-haired girl more. From her tawny skin tone and entrancing facial attributes, she was probably Middle Eastern. Curiously, she spoke with a British accent.

"My knees hurt so much right now. I have no idea why," she said to her taller friend.

"Like, do they hurt all over, or just in a specific place?"

"Kind of inside of my knee. Like, it hurts just standing here."

"Maybe we ran too much," the strawberry blonde said. Avery leaned forward to interject.

"Does it hurt when you bend your knee?" He asked. Both ladies turned back to face him. The Middle Eastern girl sneered at him with half a smile upon her gorgeous face.

"Umm, I'm sorry. We don't have any cash," the Middle Eastern girl spoke crossly.

"Excuse me?" Avery said, confused by her remark.

"You're panhandling, right? There's so many homeless people around here. You Yanks need to take better care of your people." If only she knew how spot-on her assessment was.

"I'm not homeless. What makes you think I'm homeless?"

"For starters, you look unclean. Your hair appears unkept, and you have a beard that a caveman would envy," she stated bluntly. Her friend, the strawberry blonde, snickered quietly at her comment. Avery stood in a stunned silence before choosing to ignore her uncouth statements.

"You said the pain was inside of your knee. Does it hurt when you bend your knee?"

"Uhh, not really. Trying to turn them or plant them hurts, and it seems like they've been locking up a lot since our run ended," she responded, grudgingly entertaining his inquisition.

"It may be your meniscus. That's the cartilage inside your knee." The Middle Eastern girl's eyebrows stretched upwards and her mouth formed a circle, surprised by his knowledge.

"Good to know. Should I be concerned about it?"

"I doubt it. You seem to be moving around just fine. If you were seriously injured, you would know because you'd be in excruciating pain. If you've just completed a long run, and you're not used to running that kind of distance, you've probably got a lot of inflammation going on," he answered, placing his hands into his pockets. Both girls looked each other, smiling.

"Well, thank you for the information," the Middle Eastern girl said halfheartedly. Disinterested in further conversation with him, she turned back to face her running partner. "Sam, I'm going to sneak inside and use the loo. Will you hold my spot in the queue for me?"

"Yeah, sure," the friend answered. The Middle Eastern girl offered Avery a last look before disappearing between two patrons who were standing just outside of the café.

"I'm sorry about her. She can be a little acerbic sometimes." She confessed. The strawberry blonde stood no more than two inches shorter than Avery. Her skin was olive in tone.

"Don't worry about it," he retorted. Grinning, the strawberry blonde turned away.

"I'm Avery, by the way," he said, extending his right hand to her.

"And I'm...not interested," she stated with a tinge of hesitation. From her facial expression, Avery knew she was concerned with sounding rude but felt, otherwise, brazen.

"Oh," he stood embarrassed, quickly withdrawing his hand.

"I'm sorry," she said. Her upper body leaned away from him for a few seconds, like the top of a tree caught in a strong gust. It soon returned to him, and the strawberry blonde turned back to him. "Look, I think you're really sexy, caveman beard and all, and you're probably really nice. I'm just in a committed relationship right now, and I don't want anything to mess it up."

"I wasn't hitting on you, but it's cool. I understand."

"Thank you for being understanding." Again, she smiled and turned away.

Avery was fortunate to get a table on the patio. There was nothing interesting to see around the shop, but it was a bright, warm day, so everyone wanted to sit outside. As he waited for Janelle to arrive, he saw the two girls from earlier as they each sipped the contents of their large, clear plastic cups. The taller girl, smiling with straight, white teeth waved to him as they walked past the patio area. The Middle Eastern girl laughed at her friend's actions. Interestingly, the girls briefly held hands. It was for a short span, and by the time they let go of each other, they were so far away that Avery had to squint to ascertain more details. They were both radiant, but the Middle Eastern girl was especially captivating; her lean, tawny-skinned body with that enticing British accent. God was likely proud of his work when she was born. If only Avery had not been so hairy, who knows what could have happened. Dangerous thinking.

Janelle arrived after a ten-minute wait. Her hair, its color having slightly faded since she dyed it three months ago, was in a ponytail. It was a few inches longer, stretching down between her shoulder blades. It bounced against the blue denim jacket that covered her arms. Her dress, a thin garment appropriate for such a warm day, appeared to have been dipped in vanilla and then sprinkled with flowers. It reached nearly to her knees, allowing her freshly shaven legs to breathe. A small bruise, aged by the look of its color, adorned her left calf. The shoes which she wore were of a style unknown to Avery. They were tan, with straps that allowed the soles to cling to her feet. They appeared to have been tied all the way up her ankle. A very classy looking ensemble for what was likely going to be their last conversation. Compared to her, Avery felt very underdressed. As the Middle Eastern girl said, his appearance was that of a homeless man.

After a brief hug and an even briefer kiss on the lips, she walked into the café. When she returned, in her right hand was a small, white plate with a large pastry upon it. A small fork was also there, and its handle pointed towards Janelle's right breast. In her left hand was a magenta-colored frozen drink. Most likely a yogurt smoothie, for the café was famous for them. That, and their broad selection of international coffee flavors. Avery stood, and like a gentleman, pulled out her chair. Her cheeks flushed gently as she sat across from him. Avery could now tell that on the plate was a scone with baked-in berries, topped with a large dollop of homemade whipped cream. Janelle tried twice, and failed twice, to offer Avery a piece of the pastry. Which turned out to be a blessing, for it was too delectable to be shared. Janelle savored it, unburdened by the calorie count. She never feared carbohydrates. Not when they tasted as good as the scone.

"It's such a nice day out. I was thinking about trying to get a little sun. My pasty skin needs it," she joked, looking down at her legs.

"Nonsense. I think you look fine," he answered, taking a large sip of his drink, a complicated blend of chocolate, coffee, and mint flavors.

"Flattery will only get you so far with me," she said, lightly touching the bruise on her leg with her fingertips.

"How did you get that bruise?"

"From spin class four days ago. I was stepping off the bike and my ankle randomly gave out, and I fell onto the pedal of the bike next to me. I must have hit it pretty hard because it hurt really bad then, and it still hurts now."

"I'm sorry to hear that. That sounds painful."

"It was. Some good came out of it, though. I got some alone time with Chloe, the spin instructor. I had bad calf muscle spasms after I slipped, so she massaged it for me. I was so wet afterwards, I had to rub one out in the locker room shower," she explained, sipping her drink.

"Did you really?" He asked, with a sly smile.

"Honest to God. You mean to tell me you've never hidden away somewhere for a quick release?" She said, her right eyebrow slanted upward. Avery gave some thought to her comment, and having remembered some happenings from his past, answered her.

"I may have tried once or twice," he said coyly.

"Well, I know you haven't seen her, but trust me, if you did, you would be spanking it to her every day. I want to fuck her every single second I'm there. I don't even go to the class for the exercise anymore. I go there, so I can fantasize about what she tastes like," she revealed.

"If you want her so much, why don't you ask her out?"

"That's absurd! She may be unavailable or not into girls. Besides, I wouldn't want to if it jeopardized things between us. Whatever 'things' there are between us, that is," she said, taking her long ponytail and tossing it from right to left. Avery nodded in acknowledgement.

"Although...It would be nice to fuck you both at the same time. She could wear a strap-on. One of you in my pussy. One of you in my ass. Just...hammering the absolute shit out of me. I don't want to be able to walk the next day." Her eyes drifted upwards in a dreamlike fashion.

"Have you ever been double penetrated like that?"

"Not by people. I've put toys in my ass and left them there while I masturbated before."

"Does it make the orgasm stronger?"

"Much stronger."

"Interesting," Avery spoke, looking to his left. They sat in silence for about a minute. Janelle and Avery each started mustering the courage to say what they needed to say to the other. At last, Janelle cleared her throat and began to speak.

"Before we get started, let me just say that I'm meeting a future work associate here soon, so I don't want our conversation to take too long. I should have told you this already, and I don't know why I haven't," Janelle said, lowering her head in a deep shame. Avery squinted at her.

"You're pregnant, aren't you?" He questioned, wrongly interpreting her body language. Janelle laughed and turned her head to the right, looking at the couple sitting next to them.

"No. No. It's not that," she responded. After a few seconds, she turned back to him and issued him a fleeting smile. "Not for lack of effort, though. I'm surprised myself that we haven't had any close calls, given how many times you've cum inside of me recently."

"Then what is it?" Again, Janelle lowered her head. Avery reoriented himself in the stiff chair, straightening his back, preparing for her news. "You know I won't judge you, right?"

"I know. I know," Janelle said, reaching for her near-empty cup. She swallowed its contents quickly and harshly, as though she were relieving tension by the actions. The cup returned to the metal table with a thud, and her azure eyes stared him in the face.

"Are you sick?" He asked, stretching out his long arm to touch her painted fingertips. Janelle responded accordingly, turning over her hand to grasp his. Feeling his touch made her news even more problematic to reveal.

"No. It's not bad news. It's good news. Scratch that. It's wonderful news! It's just difficult for me to tell you. I don't know why," she answered, squeezing his hand tightly. "I've enthusiastically told everyone else, but it scares me to say it to you."

"Why?"

"Maybe because of what it'll mean for us. Or I'm worried about how you'll react."

"How will I react?"

"Not so enthusiastically." As her hand drew away from his, she changed subjects. "I've spent every weekend with you since February. Suddenly, these last two, you've been too busy. You didn't want me to come over late at night. It feels like you've been avoiding me lately."

"I'm not, and I won't. Just talk to me," he said, once again holding out his hand for hers. Janelle pulled away entirely from him. Her hands folded in on themselves. She, like him, stiffened. Her azure eyes, inadvertently, pierced his.

"I'm leaving, Avery. In a week. I've got a new assignment in Boston." Her words were stated with a matter-of-fact tone, bereft of emotion.

"For how long?"

"I don't know for sure. At least three months, but it might be longer than that."

"So, what does this mean for us?" Avery, unafraid, asked. Janelle sighed loudly.

"So, there is an 'us'?" She inquired, emphasizing the "is" in the sentence.

"Of course, there's an 'us'. There's always been an 'us'."

"It hasn't felt that way recently. I can relate. I'm usually the one who wants to keep things strictly physical, but you know I feel differently about you. I asked you, weeks ago, if we could make our relationship official. At least social media official," she reminded him. Her right hand wiped away a budding tear underneath her left eye. "Do you remember what you said?"

Avery sat silent, recollecting the evening about which Janelle spoke. "Yes, I remember."

"What was it you said?"

"I said, everything was great as it was, and we shouldn't ruin it by changing it."

"It's ironic, because that's usually my line. It was my first time on the receiving end of it, and it was devastating. I don't think I've ever been more heartbroken than I was that night. I regret not telling you how I felt about it. If I had, maybe we could have figured something out before it got to this point. Then again, maybe you could sense my feelings, and that's why, after that night, you suddenly haven't had any time to spend with me. That's how I see it, anyway." The risk of losing Janelle was much scarier than Avery realized. He decided to barter with her.

"Is that what you want? To be a couple? Fine. Then, let's be a couple." Janelle smirked.

"You didn't want me when I wanted you. Why should I stay with someone who only wants me on his time?" She demanded, finally releasing herself from her rigid positioning. Leaning back against the chair, she crossed her arms. Her azure eyes never separated from his.

"I've always wanted you, Janelle," he confessed. His gaze caused Janelle's heart to splinter. She knew he was telling the truth yet fought to resist his potent mind tricks.

"You want the things I do for you. You don't want me. I'm nothing special. If you cleaned yourself up a little, you could convince any woman here to do the things I do for you."

"What if I went with you? I could find my own place?" He pled. Janelle did not respond, fearful that the immense control he held over her would coerce her to consider his proposal. Very little would bring her more happiness than to have Avery accompany her. Still, she resisted him.

"We could make it work. We could make us work," he added. Janelle's right eye moistened. He was saying all the right words. She nearly gave into what he requested of her.

"Listen to me. I'm not leaving forever, and I'm not leaving you. I'll only be gone for a few months. I'm keeping my apartment in Baltimore, and I'll come back and visit you as often as I can," she finally spoke. All resolution was absent from her proclamation. Her words were necessary, but they were not, at all, the ones which she wished to say. "But you can't come with me, Avery. I need to be able to focus on my work, and if you're there, I won't focus on anything except you. I do that now, as it is." Avery's head lowered. Anger swelled within him. Janelle, like Jenna, was excellent at compromise, yet this time there was no brokering. A wild panic overtook him. He had met with her to end things, and presumably they were finished. Just not on his terms. Powerless, he rose from the metal chair and darted towards the long, white gate which led to the sidewalk. Janelle neither pursued him, nor did her azure eyes watch him leave.

Janelle's first inclination was to rise from her chair and chase after him. So strongly did she feel this way, that she pushed the chair back and leaned forward in preparation of standing. Walking away from her was the man with whom she wanted to be forever. Even though their ephemeral coupling amounted to little more than numerous sexual escapades, Janelle believed there was so much more left to be mined between he and her. Despite that, she did not stand. Avery was the kind of person who demanded a lot of attention, whether he realized it or not. Janelle knew that, if she made any mistakes with her upcoming assignment, she would not be given another of its caliber. Providing furnishing and decorations for a new Blake Hotel in Boston was a dream assignment. Avery was not a dream partner. Far from it, she supposed. That was enough to fortify her decision. If it meant leaving him, then so be it. She would resist.

Twenty minutes passed before Janelle's phone buzzed atop the table. Picking it up, she noticed the Boston area code. It was the second appointment for whom she was waiting.

"Hello?"

"Hi. Janelle?" A soft, slightly mousy female voice asked.

"Yeah. Natalie?" She replied.

"I'm standing on the outside of the café. Are you inside or out on the patio?"

"On the patio. I'm kind of in the center of the area."

"Okay. I'll just walk in through the outside gate," the voice said. The call ended before Janelle could respond to her.

Janelle heard wedged shoes clanging against the sidewalk's surface as her appointment made her way towards her. Soon, the noise grew closer. Janelle, staring at the gate, caught a glimpse of the young woman. The first attribute of Natalie that Janelle noticed was her hair. It reached to the center of her back and was streaked in shades of blonde and brown. Janelle determined her height to be five feet, seven inches, though that was with her shoes. She was a mesmerizing vixen. Her nose was small, and her chin was equally sized and perfectly rounded. Her cheekbones, though pronounced, only gently protruded against her skin. Despite the red blazer which concealed her body, Janelle could tell Natalie's frame was quite thin. She looked side to side, searching for Janelle. Consequently, Janelle waved to signal her. A quick smile flashed on Natalie's face, and she dashed through the outside gate and into the patio area.

A welcome sense of ease enveloped Janelle as Natalie shook her hand. It was a firm, confident greeting. Natalie bit her bottom lip at the left corner as she took a mental inventory of Janelle. Janelle, herself a prodigy of nonverbal communication, knew what it meant. Natalie's skin tone was almost pale. Janelle tersely wondered if the skin on the rest of her body were as soft as that on her hand. Underneath Natalie's blazer was a simple white, sleeveless shirt. Her pants were black and professional. On her wrist was a gold bracelet with several charms dangling from it. One piece, the Eiffel Tower, stood out to Janelle. It matched her earrings, which were also of the monument. Natalie sat in the chair across from her, the same one as Avery. He was already a distant memory to her, as Janelle was under the spell of the mesmerizing vixen in front of her. Much too far away, Janelle believed, to matter any longer. Godspeed to him.