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Perspectives Series: Jess Pt. 02

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Big Tits

Author Notes:

The Perspectives Series was created as a study of how our perception of people and events is largely influenced by our point of view. As you read the distinct stories of these characters, and become more invested in their lives, your perception of them and their situations will likely change.

There are four novels in this collection, with the first volume being split into two distinct parts:

Volume One: Jess (Part One, Part Two)

Volume Two: Martin

Volume Three: Jill

Volume Four: Teresa

Together, these stories are about the intertwined journey of several ordinary people as they struggle through relationships, personal revelations, conflict, and unplanned life events. The characters are purely fictional, but familiar, nonetheless.

This was my first attempt at writing some years ago. My writing style has evolved somewhat since, as I’ve established a distinct style and cadence. Rather than rewriting these volumes, I’ve decided to just dust them off and release them as they were written. It’s not my best work, but the stories are interesting enough, I think.

Categorizing these stories for Literotica has been difficult because they span everything from mild BDSM, to Exhibitionism/Voyeur; from Anal, to Erotic Couplings, and Romance. I’ve tried to place each story appropriately, as best I could.

Perspectives Series: Jess – Part Two is the continuing saga of Jess and Simon. I’ve decided, rather than placing this segment in BDSM, like the first, to file it under Erotic Couplings. The D/s play is only referenced here. I suppose I could have just as easily categorized it under Romance.

Warning: Although there is a hot sex scene fairly early on, sex is not the focal point of this segment.

As always, I hope you enjoy these tales. Feel free to comment, and/or send feedback. And, thanks for all your support!

PART TWO

Chapter 1

Slow work days are long, but those Dubai days were even longer. I had run out of real work to do weeks before my contract ended. I’d been doing nothing more than shuffling papers, reviewing plans, and picking people up from the airport. They could hire anyone to do this.

My replacement comes in another two weeks. What’s his name again…his resume is here somewhere? Oh yeah, Deepak. From somewhere in India. Don’t know; don’t care; just want to get back to the States.

I started checking e-mail. Another joke from Martin. Random facts about animals, most of them sexual…A pig’s orgasm lasts 30 minutes. That’s got to kill Martin. Does a pig really orgasm for 30 minutes? Dolphins and humans are the only species that have sex for pleasure. I don’t know about that. I’ve seen some pretty strange things on the internet that would suggest that on occasion, dogs seem to have sex for reasons other than reproduction.

I formulated my reply: Don’t you wish you were a pig?! Are you picking me up from the airport on the 25th?

I’ll either get a reply right away or not for hours. Back to the internet…Google search: ‘Pig’ ‘sex’. Oh, shit! That was a bad idea. Nevermind, Martin’s e-mail was probably right.

I realized I had received new mail from Martin.

I’ve been called a pig for that very reason…

Yeah, right.

…I got more of your boxes today. T called to inform me that they were taking up most of the foyer. She is still pissed at you about Sarah.

Sarah! That was two years ago. I haven’t even thought about her.

We didn’t date for very long, but Teresa had it in her head that we were going to get married, and that she and Martin were going to get married, and that we were going to live next door to each other, and raise kids together…blah, blah, blah. There was no way I would marry that girl. She broadcasted every minute detail of our relationship to everyone she knew. Talked all the time. It was fine at first, and then it just grated on me. She had to make plans for us to do something every single night. Go here, go there, visit these people, go to this party, that party; it drove me insane. Fuck Teresa for making me remember all that.

Martin didn’t answer my question. I swear he does this on purpose. Retard!

Martin,

Thanks for reminding me of HER. Don’t you miss the constant chatter?

Please put those boxes away. I don’t want Teresa going through them.

ARE YOU PICKING ME UP AT THE AIRPORT??? -Simon

Now Martin won’t reply for hours just to prove he is an asshole. It doesn’t matter because I can hear Jeff a couple of cubes down. ankara eryaman escortlar He is headed this way.

“Hey, what’s up?” Jeff’s standard greeting.

Jeff was wearing a tight-fitting polo and jeans. The shirt may have been large enough when he bought it, but it had shrunk to an entire size too small for him. It was apparent that he has had the thing for some time because the general color of the shirt was much lighter than the material around, and just beneath the buttons. My acute sense of smell told me that he definitely had sex the night before and maybe that morning, and then decided to skip the shower. Big mistake.

“Nothing. What are you doing?”

“Just making the rounds. Where did you end up sneaking off to last night?”

“I went home. You seemed to be in good hands.” I delivered with a knowing glance.

“Dude, she was fucking HOT. Her friend totally wanted to go home with you.”

“Really? I didn’t think she liked me.” I lied.

“Are you fucking kidding me? I can get her phone number. You should hook up with her before you head out of town.”

“Yeah, do that.”

If I didn’t agree to his plan, he wouldn’t stop bugging me about it. Jeff is one of those guys that thinks he is responsible for getting everyone laid. Martin was the same way when he was in his twenties, too. Actually, Martin hasn’t changed much.

“Are you going to Aravind’s tonight? He’s already got the beer; we just have to pitch-in.”

“I’m still hungover from last night; I don’t think I’m gonna make it.”

“Alright. I’m gonna ask around and see who’s going. I’ll get that chick’s phone number for you.”

I waved my hand over my head dismissively. I wasn’t feeling that bad, but I didn’t feel like sitting around drinking at Aravind’s apartment. Again.

Dubai wasn’t bad the first six months or so. I was working 70 hours a week, hardly any free time. But as your contract term approaches, steps are taken to move you off the important projects, making this gig no different than working in the States.

Jeff came to work about two months after I did. He is from California, somewhere around San Jose. He’s one of those young software engineers…full of energy, dying to start his own business, has all these ideas. He has bagged more chicks than I can count — and that’s just in the last 8 months. Last January he tried fixing me up with this Italian girl who was here with her friend, who he slept with. Her name was Lena, or Leona, Lenora…something like that. Anyway, that didn’t work out. She was nice and pretty, but not…

My mind wandered to nothingness as I blankly stared at my computer screen. Jess. That’s the end of the sentence. Leona was nice and pretty, but not Jess.

I really fucked that whole thing up. It was ancient history at that point. She was living in that house in Martin’s neighborhood. That house has to be over 5,000 square feet in size. I know she isn’t living in that huge house by herself. Teresa said she saw her with some guy a couple months ago.

Chapter 2

I really, really don’t want to plant flowers out front today. Why did I go buy all that gardening shit last night? I could just lay here for another hour or so, finish watching the end of my movie, and then most of the day will be over and I won’t be able to work outside. Only I think it’s supposed to rain tomorrow and Monday, and all those petunias will probably die.

The stomach ache I had at the doctor’s office had transformed into what it really was…cramps. I just love being a woman.

I got up and headed to the bathroom where I noticed that my period was in full swing.

“Well isn’t that just a beautiful thing?!”

I often found myself talking aloud in a sarcastic tone.

I started coffee, grabbed a glass of water and downed 3 ibuprofen to deaden the pain. I started trolling my closet for things to wear. Shorts, t-shirt, pullover. That should do it. Gotta wear a hat…This Dallas Cowboys hat should do. I hope it pisses-off these Chiefs fans.

I had everything laid out in front of me to start planting. These are pretty colorful. The neighbors will like them. I never walk out front, so I’ll never see them. At least it will keep the ‘architectural committee’ of the Home Owner’s Association off my back. I have this strange feeling they were about to come talk to me about my front yard. I don’t think it was enough to hire Dave’s Lawn Service to cut and weed for me. I think the committee expects more pride from the residents here.

It’s just another example of how I don’t belong in this neighborhood. I shouldn’t have moved here. I sort of think I did it so I could keep an eye out for Simon just in case he came to town and stayed with Martin. I don’t know…it didn’t consciously come to mind at the time but escort etimesgut maybe it was a subconscious motivator. I liked the idea that my contact information was in the subdivision directory in case Simon needed to reach me. Martin would surely have one and could pass it onto Simon. But, who am I kidding. He isn’t going to call. He’s gone. Really gone. Like, for good.

Dr. Stewart really pissed me off yesterday. Or, I guess I’m supposed to call her Tracy. ‘Go out and get laid.’ That’s sound advice? Especially in this day and age.

I could’ve probably done Aaron. He was pretty cool, but he was the first one I dated after Simon and there was just too much guilt there still. I think Lisa told me he was seeing someone. Maybe he’s single again…I need to remember to call Lisa and ask her. If he’s engaged or married…I swear, I’ll oft myself.

This is ridiculous! Everyone is getting married. Now Lisa. Did I forget to tell Dr. Tracy that? I was about to, but I got side-tracked, I think. I don’t know, maybe I left it out on purpose. Roger drives me insane. He talks all the time, and he’s arrogant as hell. I don’t get what she sees in him.

I wonder if Matt is going to be in the wedding. That was the longest date of my life, I’m pretty sure. The guy has NO personality. If they pair me up down the aisle with him as a joke, I’ll have to kill her.

Maybe I should just go out with Lisa for my birthday, get plastered and go home with a complete stranger.

“Yeah, that’s what I should do.”

“Pardon me?”

My head popped-up from the flower bed and I fell back onto my butt.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to startle you. I was just walking by and found this dog. Is he yours?”

“Oh! No, he’s not mine.”

“Do you know who he belongs to? Have you seen him before?”

“No, I haven’t. I don’t get out around the block much, so I’m probably not the best person to ask.”

“OK. Well, I’ll go next door and see if they know. Sorry to bother you.”

“No problem. Good luck finding the owner.”

I have got to stop talking to myself. People are going to think I’m nuts.

What problem was I working out in my head? Oh, yeah! My ‘assignment’. I really shouldn’t have to do something I don’t want to do. It’s not that I’m morally opposed to casual sex, it’s just that I don’t feel like it. I can’t remember the last time I had an orgasm. It had to be before Simon left. *sigh*

I don’t think a single day has gone by that I haven’t thought about him. Some days have gone by when that is ALL I’ve thought about. I wish I would’ve told him I loved him…everyday. At least he would know how I felt about him. I wish I had saved his voice mail when he told me he loved me. If only I could have one more day with him. I swear, I wouldn’t ask for anything else and I’d make the memory of the day last a lifetime.

I wonder what he is doing now. Has he dated anyone else? Is he in love, engaged, married? I can’t imagine him with anyone else but if he is, maybe I could let him go and move on with my own life. How would I ever find that out?

I could start walking around the neighborhood, past Martin’s house and try to accidentally bump into Martin. That was a disaster last time it happened. I left that grocery store and cried for an entire day after that.

I could get a dog and use that as my excuse.

Somehow I don’t think the dog would be able to explain the uncontrollable sobbing. And God forbid, I run into Teresa. She would probably lie about Simon just to hurt me.

I wish I would’ve gotten Jill’s number. She would tell me.

I don’t know if gaining second-hand knowledge will be enough for me to let go. The best thing would be to talk to Simon. Why don’t I walk up to Martin’s doorstep, ring the doorbell and ask for Simon’s phone number?

Oh yeah…Teresa. She would answer (or pretend not to be home) and then I would get nothing.

Dr. Tracy is right; I need to do something. I’m tired of just going through the motions of life. I need to get on with it. I think I’m done feeling bad.

“Oh, shit!”

I stood up and my back felt like someone had been beating it for the past two hours. Just think what that would have felt like without ibuprofen. I stepped back to admire my work.

“That went pretty quick.”

I glanced about quickly to make sure no one was around.

“Those flowers didn’t go nearly as far as I thought they would.”

I’m NOT buying another flat of flowers. This will have to do.

I picked up all the tools and put them away in the garage. When half the cabinets are empty, it’s easy to stay neat.

I remembered that an order was supposed to come in on Friday, but it hadn’t come across the fax by the time I left work for the doctor’s office.

“To the batıkent escort laptop!”

I said, in my best Transylvanian accent. It was really, ‘To the lumberyard’, that I was imitating from Young Frankenstein.

There were no e-mails about the order. Oh, well. It’ll wait until Monday, I guess. Here’s an e-mail from Marriott Rewards. I’ve been going to a lot of out-of-town training classes these past several months and my reward points are growing. Something had caught my eye in that particular e-mail, though. Seems there is a special at the JW Marriott in Dubai.

My heart began racing a bit and I started to hold my breath. I wouldn’t dare. Or would I? I’d be doing something.

While I’m thinking about it, where is Dubai, exactly? Google search….

“Survey says…” United Arab Emirates

Gonna need a passport…Check.

Gonna need some balls to do this…Still working on those.

The e-mail stated that the offer was good starting the coming Thursday, and going through the following Thursday. There’s no way I can get ready that fast. I have a big deal coming through on Monday, and two more expected by Wednesday. I could wait until Saturday to go, but it wouldn’t be worth it to go for a shorter stay than one week, probably.

I don’t know anything about Dubai, how am I going to get the airfare booked? Surely I’ll have to fly through another city. What airline did Simon take? Was it United or American, I can’t remember which one?

Wow! This is the most excited I’ve gotten about anything in a very long time. I want to do this. I was also scared to death.

OK. Let me just click on this link to the Marriott Dubai website and check out the property.

God, that’s gorgeous! You know, I’ve been wanting to take a vacation. I should just go. I could look around and try to find Simon and if I don’t find him, I’ll just relax on the beach and make the most of it. The relaxation will do me good. I’ll probably find him. How many Americans can there be working and living in Dubai?

The thought of traveling to a foreign country by myself to search for the man I’d been obsessing about was enough to send me to the bathroom. I probably just lost 5 pounds in liquid waste from my spastic colon.

This is probably a bad sign.

I shutdown my laptop and put the thought out of my mind. It was absolutely crazy.

I don’t know how I did it, but I managed to get through the rest of the day and Sunday without touching my laptop.

Monday morning came, and I was sitting at my desk. I don’t know exactly how it happened, but I found myself on the phone with the travel agency that supports my workplace. It didn’t take long to find availability. Even though I had to book travel leaving on Wednesday morning in order to arrive in Dubai by Thursday evening, I confirmed and paid for it right then and there. The power of credit cards should not be taken lightly. I reserved my room at the Marriott and used my points for two of the nights.

“OK. Done.”

Oh, what have I done?! I had exactly two days to work on closing outstanding deals and then I was off to the airport Wednesday morning.

I didn’t have much time to mull it over. In fact, I think I was in serious shock and/or denial about it. Monday flew by and at 8:30pm, I was still at my desk trying to sort out the details of the configuration for the PO we received. I thought I might receive a second PO by fax in the latter part of the day, but no staring at the fax machine would produce the little beast. My lightheadedness was a sure indication that I hadn’t eaten all day, and I needed something fast. I finally left the office at around 9:15pm; drove through McDonald’s and collapsed into bed after scarfing down a Double Quarter Pounder with Cheese.

My phone rang at 7:53am. It was John, letting me know that the PO came in and they wanted the order expedited. I was on my way into work already so I didn’t know how much more expeditious I could get.

I remember pausing around 4:45pm that afternoon. I suddenly realized that I was booked on a flight in the morning and I hadn’t even told anyone about my trip, yet. There’s denial for you. I jumped up and ran into Lisa’s office to let her know that I was going out of town.

She took it in stride and didn’t panic. I was panicking, but I didn’t know if that was because of my outstanding work tasks, or what I was about to undertake. I think it was the latter.

I was tied-up at the office again until after 7pm just trying to handle the details of the order and also to set my out of office messages on my e-mail and phones. I got home around 7:50pm and went straight to packing. I was probably hungry, but I couldn’t eat. My throat was so constricted, and my stomach was tossing violently. I was not thinking clearly when I packed, but this just led to the forgivable offense of over packing. When in doubt, throw it in the suitcase.

My United flight departed at 7:35am on Wednesday, June 6th. Happy early birthday to me.

Chapter 3

I finally got a response from Martin…DAYS later. Prick!

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