Author's Note:
I apologize for the length of time between Chapter 15 and Chapter 16 of
A Tale of Two Paramours.
I have changed jobs and moved 1100 miles since the beginning of the year, and I did not have sufficient time until now to revise this chapter.
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The five days following the tumultuous conclusion of the threesome with Jessi and Amara were perhaps the roughest five days of my life. Those days were by far more difficult for me than any time during my divorce. Even with the hell my then-wife put me through, the sense of relief that came from the end of my marriage ameliorated the negative aspects of its termination. However, the aftermath of the threesome fiasco offered no such relief. Instead, it felt like I was in a constant state of almost mourning over what I was sure was the end of my relationship with my twenty-year-old blonde lover, Jessi.
Saturday, the day immediately following the threesome, was the worst day, as I had nothing to occupy my time, and all I did was dwell on what had occurred the night before. Sunday was better, not because I had processed my feelings, but because as morning dragged on into afternoon, I made myself start focusing on preparing for my classes the next day. I believe it was the need to be prepared to teach my classes that allowed me to be able to do anything during that time other than just sit and wallow in my self-pity. I know that both my colleagues and my students must have sensed something was wrong - I was too preoccupied with my internal turmoil for it to have gone without notice - but no one said anything. So, I functioned well enough to make it through my classes, but I knew that I was barely hanging on.
Unfortunately, as much as my workdays helped me concentrate on something else, at least to a degree, my nights threatened to derail everything. I might have slept a total of fifteen hours over the course of five nights. My mind, unless it was occupied by class or other work, was stuck on one thing. Thus, at such times I could not occupy my mind with work, I continuously thought about Jessi and everything I had done wrong.
Of course, the threesome had been a mistake on a variety of levels. I had hurt Jessi. I had let myself be drawn into a situation that could have considerable impact on my life and career. I had taken advantage of an eighteen-year-old who likely had issues of her own. And I had known better the whole time. This last part, along with the fear that I had irreparably damaged my relationship with Jessi, is what weighed on me the most.
Wednesday, the sixth day since the threesome, started out no better than the five days before. After maybe three and a half hours of sleep, I stumbled out of bed, readied myself for the day, went and taught my classes, held office hours, then came back home. Once I was home, I ate a meager dinner then say in my office.
I was trying fruitlessly to lose myself in writing when a text buzzed on my phone. I was expecting it to be from Jessika, my thirty-one-year old brunette lover, as she and I had been in contact throughout the week. Like everyone else, I am sure Jessika could sense something was wrong with me, and unlike everyone else, she might have even been able to guess as to what was the cause of my ills, but her texts had been carefully casual. And although the respite they provided was short, I have to admit that each text from the lovely brunette stood out as a bright spot in my otherwise miserable existence.
This text, however, was not from Jessika. And neither was it from Jessi, whom I had tried to text on a few occasions over the prior five days. Rather, it was from the other party in the disastrous threesome - Amara. I had texted her a couple of days prior to see if she had been in contact with Jessi, but at that time she had not been. However, that had changed, as I found out from her text.
"Finally talked 2 Jessica," the eighteen-year-old's text read. "She dropped out of school. She says she's ok, but IDK."
My whole body seemed to grow heavier as I read and reread the middle sentence of Amara's text: "She dropped out of school." I could not believe that my actions had led Jessi to withdraw from college. In fact, I wondered if it was just something she had said to make Amara feel bad, as I could not believe that she would throw away her education because of what we had done.
To find out for sure if Jessi had withdrawn from school, I logged on to the college's faculty access portal and did a search for Jessi's student records. As I waited for the screen with her status to load, I hoped not to see exactly what I did see when the information came up - The twenty-year-old had dropped all her classes.
I buried my face in my hands for several seconds as I internally berated myself for everything I had done that had led the poor young woman to this point. My selfishness had caused a bright by shy student to throw away good money - it was too late for a refund for the semester - for which she worked hard, not to mention delaying her education by probably at least six months. And that was, my conscience reminded me, on top of the emotional and psychological damage I had wrought.
After taking several deep breaths, I tried to regain some control over my own emotions. I picked up my phone and texted Amara to thank her for letting me know about Jessi. I also asked her to keep me updated, and she agreed to do so. I then went and took a long, hot shower. I stood in the shower and thought about Jessi until the hot water ran out.
When I had finished drying off and had dressed in sweats and a t-shirt, I returned to my office to retrieve my phone and to turn off my computer. When I picked up the phone, I saw that another text had come in while I had been in the shower. This one was from Jessika.
"Hey Mark, I know this is last minute, and that you're having a bad week, but there's something I need to do tomorrow night that I don't want to do alone," the brunette had texted.
The text, which had come in almost fifteen minutes earlier, was followed by another text, which read, "And I should let you know this is a friend thing, not a benefits thing."
A third text had come in about five minutes after the first two, and it read, "Please let me know, OK? It's important to me. I don't want to tell it all in a text, but I'll tell you tomorrow."
I thought about Jessika's request for a couple of minutes. I was not sure I was up to going anywhere, but by that point I knew Jessika well enough to know that she would not tell me something was important if it was not. In the end, the fact that she was not looking for a sexual encounter, something for which I did not believe I was ready at that point, helped me decide to agree to do whatever it was she wanted me to do.
"I am willing to do whatever I can to help you, Jessika," I texted to her.
Seconds later, my phone pinged with her response: "Thank you, Mark. I'll come get you at 7, if that's ok?"
"That is fine," I replied, to which Jessika responded with a smiley face.
My curiosity about what Jessika needed me to do with her distracted me from thinking about Jessi for a few minutes, but my relief was short lived. By the time I went to bed, my mind was again stuck on the young blonde.
As with the nights before, Sleep alluded me for most of the night as I tossed and turned and fretted over how my actions had been so deleterious for someone I cared about. And when I did fall asleep, I invariable woke minutes later from dreams of the blonde. In some of those dreams, Jessi was in physical peril, always as a result of my actions. Other dreams were incredibly erotic, although whatever we were doing always ended in disaster. It was with relief that I got out of bed when my alarm went off. I was exhausted, but at least the night of turmoil was over and I could try to focus on my day.
As I went through the motions for my Thursday classes and office hours, my curiosity about what Jessika needed me to do grew. Eventually, I found that I was thinking more about the brunette than her younger, blonde counterpart. I even, to my surprise, found myself smiling a time or two as I thought about my older, curvaceous lover. I would not say it had been a good day, but it had certainly been better than the several that preceded it, and for once I was actually looking forward to the evening, rather than dreading it.
Jessika knocked on my door a few minutes before seven. When I opened the door, I was surprised to see that the thirty-one-year-old looked quite somber. In my mind, visions of a smiling, happy Jessika had helped me drive away many of my thoughts about Jessi. The woman on my porch, though undeniably lovely, was not smiling, although it was clear that she, thankfully, was not angry. Rather, she looked very sad.
"You ready?" she asked, her gray eyes locked on mine.
"Yes," I replied as I put on my coat and stepped out my door.
Jessika smiled at me weakly, then pulled me to her for a long hug. As she held me tightly against her, I felt as much as heard her sigh deeply. When our hug ended, I kissed Jessika on the cheek and was rewarded with a slightly bigger smile. She reached out and rubbed my arm, then took my hand and led me to her car.