After Jessika left my house late Saturday morning, I distracted myself with work for a couple of hours. But my thirty-one-year-old brunette lover's final words to me kept intruding into my thoughts. She had told me that she would not make any promises to keep going with our relationship, regardless of how we classified it, if I did not make a choice between her and my other lover, the twenty-year-old Jessi. So, I texted Jessi and asked to meet that night, assuring her that I just wanted to talk.
"Sure. After 7." Was her only response. I thought about trying to draw her out, but I decided against it. What we had to talk about would have to wait until I saw her.
A few minutes after 7:00 pm—I had waited in the parking lot to make sure I was not too early—I knocked on Jessi's door, my palms sweaty despite the icy temperatures that accompanied a cold front that had pushed over the mountains that afternoon. As I waited for her to answer, a part of me hoped she had actually found someone else on St. Patrick's Day and that I would not have to make the decision to end my relationship with the young blonde. Another part of me was already mourning the relationship with her and had been since Jessika had made it clear that she would never let our relationship advance beyond friends-with-benefits if my 'situation' with Jessi, as she called it, continued. A third part of me wanted to push forward and give up neither of my paramours, but that part was increasingly losing influence. Interestingly, no aspect of my mind seemed to support the idea that I should forgo Jessika for Jessi. I simply no longer believed that was a valid option.
My self-reflection came to an abrupt halt when Jessi opened the door. Despite her hair pulled back into a ponytail, and despite the absence of makeup on her thin, elfin face, she looked beautiful, and I told her so.
"You don't have to lie, Mark," the young blonde shrugged, eyes meeting mine for a heartbeat before dropping.
"I'm not lying," I said, walking into her small studio apartment and noting that it was neat, which was a good sign. Jessi was only messy when there was some emotional turmoil in her life. "You always look beautiful."
"Even in this?" she asked, twirling to show off her outfit, which consisted of black yoga pants and an oversized gray sweatshirt. "Wouldn't you prefer me naked and on my knees... or maybe you wouldn't anymore. That's why you're here, right? To break it off?"
"I am here because we need to talk. I am not sure what is going to happen between us, so I do not think we should leap to any given conclusion."
I was barely able to keep from cringing at my own words, as they did not really speak to my purpose in visiting. But I had no intention of just ripping the bandage off and leaving a devastated, if not damaged, Jessi in my wake. I was hoping that through frank conversation, I could lead her to understanding that ending our relationship was for the best. The trouble for me was that I had not yet led myself to that conclusion, not fully anyway.
"Did she tell you it was her or me? I'd like to think that wouldn't work, since it didn't work when I tried it, but I think I know better."
"This is not about Jessika," I said, trying my best to keep my voice steady and my tone neutral. "It is about us. We don't seem to be working right now."
"How would you know? You've been spending all your time with that big-titted cow."
"Jessi, let's not..."
"No, let's. Let's just get rid of all the shitty pretext and civility and say what we really think. I'll go first. I love you. I didn't think I would ever love anyone, let alone love someone like I love you. But I'm not what you want, not really. And it's not about my boob size, although it's easier for me to pretend it is than to accept it's me, who I really am, that you don't want. You want the girl you fell in love with, the girl who doesn't think of herself as a slut, the girl you took a picture of reading on the couch, the girl who doesn't fucking exist except in your expectations. I'm lots of things, but I ain't that girl. She's a lie you tell yourself because it's easier for you to keep fucking me, which you so clearly want to do, if you believe that girl is real somewhere deep inside me where you can find her and pull her out. But it's just a fucking lie, and you know it. So, how do I compete when you don't have to lie to yourself about who your other slut really is in order to keep fucking her?"
"I do not think you are being fair to me, Jessi," I told her after a brief pause. "My feelings for you are, well... I love you, both who you are and who you can be."
"Please stop lying, Mark. You love who you think I can be. You lust after who I am. That's why you haven't been around. You're afraid if we're together you'll end up following your dick, not your head."
"I have not been around because you were upset with me..."
"Why wouldn't I be upset! I brought that slutty waitress into our relationship to one-up Big Tits, but you still ran back to her. Do you know how much that fucking hurt? I thought we had reached a better place after you didn't fuck the slut when I told you you could. I thought you were really thinking about my feelings. I almost believed that I could be enough for you. Then not two days later, you're out fucking the cow."
"And you said you would hook up with someone else. You do not think that hurt me?"
"You were already fucking someone else! And you did the same thing last night! What the fuck do you care if I fuck other guys? Which I'm not, by the way. Sheri was the only person I've been with, other than you, after I fucked Amara's boyfriends. And being with her was for you, so she would agree to give you the two girl BJ without getting anything more. Of course, that went different than I thought, but I was okay with it."
"I did not ask you to do that!" I shot back, no longer able to contain my annoyance. "I would have been happy with just you."
"Fucking liar! You aren't happy with just me! You keep fucking her! If you were happy with just me, you'd dump her fat ass, not mine."
"Jessika and I started first..."
"I don't give a shit! You said it yourself—she was just a fuck buddy. But you fell in love with her, and now I'm screwed."
"Jessi, let's calm down and talk..."
"I don't want to calm down! And I don't want to talk. All I want is to fuck you one last time before you get the fuck out of my life."
"Uh... what?" I asked, the sudden turn to the conversation throwing me off.
"I want a last fuck, then you can go marry your fat cow or whatever you want to do."
"I do not want to marry anyone," I sighed, running my hands through my hair as I tried to come to terms with Jessi's words as well as her inadvertent reminder of thoughts I had entertained before about what it would be like to be with Jessika on an exclusive—and permanent—basis. And as I did so, I wondered how true my own words really were.
"Okay, shack up with. Whatever. You want her. Well, fuck me and then go get her."
"Jessica, if you keep acting..."
"Don't give me that fucking 'Jessica' bull shit, Mark! I've told you before I know what you're doing when you do that. You're trying to fucking placate me. I don't want to be placated. I don't need to be placated. I need a hard, rough goodbye fuck and then you to go the fuck away."
"I think I should just do the latter."
"Like you're going to walk out of here without screwing me one last fucking time, and I don't mean just sex."
"You are being a little bitch, Jessi," I snapped, and while I wanted to regret my word choice, I found that I did not. And that bothered me.
"Yes, I am," the blonde shrugged, giving me one of those characteristic overlong stares of hers. "What are you going to do about it?"
"Leave."
"Oh, I doubt that," the young blonde said, her face breaking into the first smile I had seen since I walked in the door. It was not a mirthful smile. "I know you better than that, Mr. Warner."
Before I could respond, she pulled her gray sweatshirt over her head, revealing her modest but perfectly shaped breasts. I gaped at her obviously hard nipples, set in the exact center of those small, rose-colored areolas, and felt myself hardening. A knowing look appeared in the blonde's blue eyes, then she turned and peeled her yoga pants down her legs. She was not wearing any panties.
"Want to fuck that ass, Mr. Warner," Jessi purred, looking back over he shoulder. "Guess you won't get the chance now."
"Jessi, stop this."
"Why?" my twenty-year-old lover asked as she stepped out of her pants. "You saying you don't want to fuck me?"
