Perspectives Series: Jess

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. In addition, these volumes do not have to be read in any particular order, nor is it necessary to read all of them. They are standalone novels/novellas.

Perspectives Series: Jess - Part One

is best described as very mild, amateur, BDSM. It is the story of how a young couple experiments with power exchange, and mild bondage to discover themselves, and develop a once-in-a-lifetime relationship. It is a love story.

Warning:

Bondage, D/s play, anal, exhibitionism, swapping, brief F/F.

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

PART ONE

Prologue

"My name is Jessica. Most people call me

Jessie

."

"Jessie, it's nice to meet you."

"I'm a little nervous; I've never done this before. I'm not even sure why I'm here or what I want to get out of this. What...er, or where do we start?"

"Why don't you just start with what brought you here."

"Um, hmmmm, what brought me here? I know this sounds crazy, but I'm not sure. I mean, I didn't mean I'm crazy. You know,

crazy

like

different

."

"I understand what you mean. Just take a deep breath, sit back, and relax. Would you like some tea? I'm going to have some."

"That sounds good, actually."

"Are you from around here, Jessie?"

"No, I'm originally from the Dallas area. I moved here about 5 years ago."

"Really? Where about in Dallas?"

"Oh, I lived all over the place. I lived in Carrollton, off Greenville Avenue, and then on Skillman for awhile. I lived with a girlfriend out in Scurry for about 4 months. That was way out in the country. Then I moved to Mesquite for about a year or so. I last lived in the Flower Mound/Lewisville area. So, all over, really."

"My college roommate lives in Plano and my brother lives in Cleburne, outside of Fort Worth."

"I've been through Cleburne. Nice town. Have you been there?"

"No, I haven't. Our family functions are usually at our parent's house."

"Well, I assume you've been to Plano, then...right?"

"Oh, yeah. Right after college I visited Tina a lot. I considered moving there."

"Why didn't you?"

"I don't know. I met someone here that I really liked, and decided to get married and stay."

"That's nice..."

"You look sad. Have you recently become separated from a loved one?"

"Yeah. Separated...really separated...miles apart, in fact. This isn't going to be easy for me to talk about. I've been having a hard time getting through the days without crying. Last Saturday I didn't even get out of bed. That's why I called your office on Monday. I think I may be depressed."

"Have you ever felt this way before?"

"No. Never, in fact."

"So, you haven't seen any other doctors for depression?"

"No."

"Are you presently taking any medications -- either for depression or for any other reason?"

"I'm on birth control, but that's it."

"Any illicit drug use?"

"No. Not since High School, anyway."

"Is your fear of depression why you called this office?"

"Yes, mostly."

"Before we get too far along, I want to be sure you understand my focus. What I'm getting at is, there are dozens of therapists in town that work with depression, specifically. Although I can certainly work with you and refer you if necessary, my specialty is sex therapy. It's perfectly fine either way; I just want to be sure we are clear as to what I do, so there aren't any misunderstandings. Are there other reasons for your wanting to talk to me?"

"Um...I, uh...yes."

"OK. There's no rush to jump to it. You'd be surprised how many people set up appointments and then freak out when they find out that they aren't talking to a Psychiatrist who can prescribe Prozac."

"Oh, no...I don't want to be on Prozac if I can help it."

"OK, well, back to depression...When you're lying in bed, how far

down

do your thoughts go? For example, do you think you'll find someone else? Do you blame yourself? Do you think about ending your own life? Where do your thoughts generally go when you are having your worst day?"

"I blame myself for a lot of things. I don't know...like that there is something wrong with me. I have some problems. I don't ever think of committing suicide or anything like that, but I really can't see myself with anyone else the rest of my life. These thoughts make me the saddest."

"Those thoughts would make most people sad. You're a young, attractive woman. What makes you think you won't find another partner?"

"I've sort of learned some things about myself that I don't understand, and I'm trying to get a grip on that. I also have some control issues, I think. And that makes it difficult for me to find the right guy."

"What kind of issues?"

"Well, I have absolutely NO desire to control other people and the absolute need to control everything about me. So, if you do something that affects my environment, it will bother me. I'm so extreme about it, and this is what is affecting me. On the other hand, I fantasize about giving over that control to someone else, and when I have in the past, the experience is life-changing. It's sort of this dichotomy. I don't know how to allow myself to give up this one need in order to achieve what I know is a better thing for me."

"I'm not following you."

"It's hard to explain because I don't understand it, myself. So...I've never been married and I've had a lot of relationships. They all start out great, you know. Awkward first date, second and third go better. The sex is good at first because it's new, and you are totally anticipating it before it happens. But then it becomes stale real fast. Not just the sex, but the whole thing. Something goes very wrong for me, even though there is no one thing I can point to that is bad. You know what I mean? He's a perfect gentleman, he says and does all the

right

things but something is missing. He doesn't challenge me in any way. He doesn't make me feel uncomfortable at all. I can go through this ritual with my eyes closed. Until recently, I thought every relationship was going to be this way.

"I think now that I was really looking for someone to take charge, and no one was willing to. At least not anyone I was dating. It's so easy to look right past the things that are most important and focus on the things that don't really matter. I used to think that stability, honesty, loyalty and stuff like that were important when really it was something more primal. Now I think we can boil this whole thing down to something way simpler. And it's funny; I can totally spot other submissives when I see them. It's not one thing, or a combination of specific behaviors, but more of a total look about them. But every one I have met is suppressing their tendency and it makes me sad.

"I don't know if I am sadder for them or for me. They have no idea what type of life is possible. I

know

. I guess what I'm getting at is that I need help trying to give up control. Do you think you can help me with that?"

"I'm not sure. Control is tricky. It's an illusion, really."

"Control is

tricky

, yeah, so I've heard."

"Maybe this isn't about control at all. You've given me a lot to digest. I want to key in on the label you've tagged yourself with, submissive in relation to

control

. You seem to relate the two concepts."

"Yeah..."

"In these

fantasies

you're referring to -- what

control

is taken from you in them? Is it your ability to move, speak, see, make decisions...help me understand what you don't control?"

"Ummm, well...decisions, I guess. I am not able to decide what happens to me next. Usually what I want to happen, happens; but I have to wait for it. Most of the time, it's that teasing that really sends me into a frenzy."

"So these are mostly

sexual

fantasies?"

"Starting out, they are, but then they evolve into an entire lifestyle."

"I want to explore that more later...let's get back to

control

. In your fantasy, the end result is the same...you get what you want, right?"

"Well, yeah. It's my fantasy, so in the end, I get what I want."

"And you have no role in that, whatsoever?"

"No, well, yes...I guess so. What do you mean?"

"Aren't you at least somewhat responsible for manipulating the situation so that the end result is pleasing to you?"

"Yes."

"So, in effect, you are actually controlling what happens to you, right? I mean, you probably very meticulously choose the characters in your fantasy...maybe faceless strangers, or someone you've seen in a magazine, and they do to you exactly what you want them to, while you maintain the illusion of having no control."

"This line of reasoning is great when we talk about fantasies, but what about real life?"

"Living out fantasies, you mean?"

"What if I were to tell you that I've lived this life, and it was better than any fantasy I had ever had?"

"I would say: Good for you, then what's the problem?"

"He's gone. And now I don't know how to get that feeling back, how to allow myself to be challenged again."

"Maybe you should tell me more about

him

. What is his name, for starters?"

"Simon. His name is Simon."

Chapter One

I first met Simon at a grocery store of all places. It was a very unlikely place to start for us. I stand barely over 5 feet tall, and I couldn't reach the artichoke hearts on the top shelf. This brand was apparently popular this particular week, and there were only a few left on the back of the shelf. It's one of the few times that being vertically-challenged will bother me. My back was to him as he reached over me and grabbed the jar I was trying so laboriously to reach.

He was a tall man, obviously; around 6 feet tall, with dirty blonde, wavy hair. He was athletically built and attractive, but not the sort you would find on the cover of a magazine. His most striking feature was his grayish-colored eyes. They weren't quite blue, but not hazel, either. They had a kindness about them.

I think I spoke first, feeling a little sheepish, and then thankful that he was there to rescue me. I stammered something barely audible, and tried to be a little amusing. I don't remember exactly what I said, probably something like,

I was afraid my arm was going to stretch longer than the other one.

It was a silly thing to say, but I was instantly attracted to this stranger, and so I was instantly nervous.

A tiny smirk curled the corners of his mouth in response to my attempt at humor. He held the artichokes in his hand, rolling the jar in his palm, not surrendering them immediately.

"What are you willing to give me for this item?"

The question was simple, I suppose, but shockingly flirtatious in a way, so I played along.

"My immediate answer is $1.89. I didn't come prepared to negotiate."

To this, he laughed out loud and placed the jar in my shopping cart. As quickly as he walked up, he strolled away. I stood there for a moment, not sure how to interpret this exchange. I'm pretty analytical so I could spend hours just mulling over a simple exchange like this one.

I thought that would be the last of my chance encounter with this stranger, but in the checkout line, he showed up again, standing behind me. Without a word, he reached into my cart, and pulled out a can of black olives. He quickly disappeared down to aisle 4 and returned with a different brand, placing it back into my cart.

"This one is better. Try it."

"Thanks. I will."

"I want to see you again, so I need your phone number."

I didn't even notice that he didn't ask, he just matter-of-fact told me. Without much hesitation, I blurted it out.

That was pretty out-of-character for me, because I don't usually accept dates with men I don't know. There's just too much to risk. Most of the time, I meet guys through mutual friendships. That time was different; something strange was beginning to come over me. I didn't know what it was at the time. I do now.

"My name is Simon, by the way. It is nice meeting you. I will call you tomorrow."

Chapter 2

I didn't think he would call. These things may happen to extremely attractive women, but they never happen to me. And especially not on a Tuesday at the grocery store.

I couldn't stop thinking about our exchange.

How strange was it, that I just gave him my phone number like that?

What is it about him that affected me right away?

In my mind, he went from being mildly attractive to the most gorgeous man I'd ever laid eyes on. I couldn't begin to understand what had happened. I finally gave up on the mental twenty-questions I was playing with myself because he wasn't going to call, anyway.

He did call, nonetheless...on Wednesday just as he said he would. Our conversation was longer that time, but not terribly personal. I found out he was a Structural Engineer at a Design/Build firm in mid-town. I had no idea what he actually did, but I suspected he gave me the information so I could check it out for accuracy, and so I did. That gave me some comfort that I wasn't going out with some unemployed serial killer.

We made plans for dinner on Friday. Rather than meeting at the restaurant, he insisted on coming by my apartment and picking me up. That isn't a usual practice for me. I preferred to play it safe and drive my own vehicle. His voice, or the way he assumed control, just gave me the courage to waylay my fears. In fact, he never even mentioned where we were going. I was going on a lot of faith.

He arrived promptly at 7. He didn't come inside, but waited on the landing for me. After I locked the door, he reached past me and checked it to make sure it was closed all the way. I remember thinking that was such a caring gesture. Without hesitation, he wrapped both arms around me, gave me a kiss on the left cheek and a huge, lingering hug. It was one of those very comforting hugs you receive from old friends. It made me feel instantly at ease. Then he escorted me to his Volvo S40 by placing his hand on the small of my back and opening the car door for me.

Once inside, he checked my seatbelt. Not by asking me if it was on, but by sliding his hand toward my hip and pulling gently on the straps near the buckle.

All of his attentiveness was beginning to act like a drug on me. I couldn't recall the last time someone actually spent that much time focusing on me. In fact, I'm not sure any man

ever

has.

The conversation in the car was of nothing about work or anything trivial. He began by talking about a local event of recent media attention, delving into it with an understanding that I couldn't fathom. His observations of the morning news accounts were positively insightful. I felt inadequate as a conversationalist, and this was an area that I liked to pride myself in.

I wasn't just becoming aware of my own inadequacies; I was also beginning to realize that this was no ordinary man. Most men wouldn't notice if you changed your hair color to purple, but Simon paid attention.

At every turn in the road, I could feel myself searching both sides of the street trying to guess which place we might be going to. I know he noticed it, in fact, I think he noticed everything. He began to grin every time he turned, and I wondered if he wasn't going the long way around just to keep me guessing. He never told me where we were going and I never asked.

We arrived at a place I'd never been before. It was called

Bluestem

. I had never heard of it. The choices were limited and a bit confusing to me. After examining the menu for some time, Simon leaned toward me.

"I suggest the Striploin. It is exceptional."

I agreed to his suggestion and with that, he relieved me of my menu. He ordered for both of us, choosing an appetizer, a salad, and a delightful Cabernet that was perfect. That three course meal plus dessert was going to take us hours to complete. I wasn't expecting that type of commitment on the first date. This was very risky for him to commit to so much time on a first outing, I thought.

I've dated a few times,

or maybe a few hundred times, but who's counting

, and so I am quite skilled at steering the conversation on the first date to all about him. It has been my experience that the more men talk about themselves, the better my chances for a second date. And I

so

wanted a second date with Simon.

But he was mastering this conversation, and it was about me: my work, my habits, my friends, family, pets, interests. It was exhausting, and by the end of the night, I knew almost nothing about him.

How did that happen?

I wondered.

He walked me up to my door and swiftly kissed me on the cheek. There wasn't any nervous waiting to negotiate the

good-night terms

, as I put it. Simple and quick. He waited while I unlocked my door, and insisted on waiting there until I had completed a full safety check of my apartment.

His last words to me were, "I will call you tomorrow morning."

Chapter 3

Tomorrow

came, and he called at 10:30am. I thought that was pretty early after a first date, but I wasn't complaining. It was Saturday, and he confessed that he already had plans to go to a party at a friend's house. I thought that would be the end of it, but then he said the most surprising thing.

"I'll pick you up at 8. This will be an excellent chance for you to meet some of my friends."

I was dying at the chance to find out more about this mystery gem I had stumbled on. I was sure to uncover some deep, dark secret that would ruin it for me, but it was better to find out then than later.

I'm not sure where the rest of the day went. It was a blur. I labored over what to wear and finally settled on a wrap-around blouse and skirt. I had to go out and buy the skirt. I barely ate anything all day. I was practically in a trance at the nail salon that I popped-in unexpectedly.

Simon was prompt in arrival again, and the same ritual was followed as the night before. The charm was still working for me, and I had to admit I was really starting to like the guy.

The party was a fair size by most standards. There were probably fifty people there, mingling about the living area of a very beautiful home in fashionable Mission Hills. There was a vast age range, of around 25 to 55. Mostly upper-middle class business people and artistic-types, mixed with an occasional workout junkie. Lots of couples, or dating singles, I wasn't sure.