Jessica’s Journey

I hit my vape and scowled as I slumped down in the car seat. Warm rays of sunlight warmed my cheeks as I inhaled, the irritation clear on my face as I looked up into the rearview mirror. This was not what I had wanted or expected for myself at this age. I was twenty-two, a minted college graduate from Brown University, and I was living at home with my parents. No job, no love life, no fucking future as far as I could tell. I slammed my vape into my handbag and stepped out of the car. The heat of summer crackled off the asphalt and I grimaced as I locked the car.

I looked towards the door of the Victorian style house. "Well, no point putting it off," I muttered to myself. I glanced down at the black jeans I wore, tight and clinging to my hips. Maybe a poor choice in this weather, but I assumed the Slaters had air conditioning. I walked to the door and rang the doorbell.

Tutoring was fine work, my dad had said. Get you some work experience, add it to your resume, and I'd be in for a job any day now.

What a crock of shit. I rang the doorbell.

It opened almost instantly. Mrs. Slater, a woman I'd known most of my life, beamed down at me. She was dressed in a thin cotton shirt, buttoned down low enough that I could see a hint of a lacey, black bra beneath. Her chestnut-colored hair hung in loose curls down past her shoulders, and a light coating of lipstick glistened on her lips.

"Oh my god! Jessica!" She threw her arms around me, hugging me tight to her chest, then held me back at arm's length. "I haven't seen you in, what, two years? It's so nice to have you back in the neighborhood. I love your hair, by the way," she said, pointing at the shaggy shock of dark hair that fell in bangs almost to my eyes, the ends dyed a bright blue. "So edgy... so punk rock." I didn't think Mrs. Slater had ever listened to punk rock in her life, but I kept my mouth shut.

"Thanks for the job," I said, smiling politely. "Kenna's in her first year of college, right?"

Mrs. Slater ushered me in, taking me down familiar, if long unvisited, hallways and corridors. "Oh, community college, but... well, I'm not supposed to say anything about that," she said, rolling her eyes. "My daughter... let's just say she's had a tough time. Her dad and I have been fighting a lot." She shot me a conspiratorial smile, leaning in to whisper. "But don't tell Kenna I said that, either. I mean, you know that Harold and I separated, right?"

I nodded uncomfortably. "My mom mentioned it..." I smiled sheepishly, my cheeks heating up. "Actually she told me not to mention it."

Mrs. Slater let out a dry, hollow laugh. "Oh, your mother," she said, sighing. "It's okay, it's been two years. I don't think he'll be coming back any time soon." She smiled at me. "You know what they say... there are more fish in the sea."

I laughed a little. "Is that why you dressed up so nice today? You have a hot dinner date, Mrs. Slater?"

Mrs. Slater shrugged her shoulders, looking like a mischievous schoolgirl as she ran her hands through her hair. "Oh, this is nothing special, I always dress up like this." She shot me a smile, mischief in her eyes. "Come on, come on, Kenna's in her room."

"Mom? Who is that?" A young, girlish voice called out from the other room. Kenna walked out, and I felt my jaw drop. I remembered her as a gangly, pimply seventeen year old girl. But two years had passed and now she was... well, she was drop dead gorgeous. She'd let her dirty blonde hair grow out to shoulder length, her lips full and glossed and pink, her green eyes sharp and defiant.

"Jessica," she said, sniffing. "I didn't know you were going to be my tutor. I thought it was going to be a professional. What did you do to your hair?"

Mrs. Slater bristled. "Jessica is perfectly qualified, honey," she said. "She just graduated from Brown University with a Bachelor's in math." She turned to me, flashing her best "my daughter is crazy" smile. "Why don't you girls get started?"

I kept my smile plastered to my lips. Kenna might have glown up a bit, but it had clearly soured her personality. She hadn't been nearly so rude when I first met her. But I couldn't complain to Mrs. Slater when she had so graciously given me a job. "Let's go work in your room, Kenna."

She huffed and walked down the hall, pushing open the door to her room. I followed her inside. The room hadn't changed at all in two years, which surprised me. I thought I'd at least find an array of posters of young pop stars or actors on her wall, or maybe something more sophisticated and artistic, but there was nothing of the kind. Kenna had apparently always been a history nerd. A framed American flag hung on one wall, surrounded by photos from famous civil war battlefields, while another wall held photos of the USS Constitution, and a map of the Holy Land in 1709.

"These are pretty cool," I said, trying to bond with her. "I mean, I'm not really a history expert, but I know you always liked it."

"What did you major in again?" She asked. Her arms were folded across her chest, a scowl on her face. She'd clearly planned on giving me a hard time. "Mom told me, but I can't remember what it was."

"Mathematics," I said, narrowing my eyes at her. "With a concentration in statistics." Her mother had mentioned it just a minute ago, so I knew she was just trying to be rude. "And my understanding is that you're having a hard time with calculus."

She turned away from me. "Yeah, well... that's not a problem. You can just leave if you want."

"What?"

Kenna shrugged her shoulders. "I mean, I guess that if you want to, you can just leave."

"Mrs. Slater is expecting me to tutor you," I said, trying to stay calm. "It's an hourly job. I'm not going to leave. Now, why don't you get our your textbook and show me what you're learning this quarter?"

"I said you can go, bitch." I froze in shock at the harsh word coming from her lips. She turned back towards me, a grin on her face. "You're a little bitch, Jessica, do you know that? I'm not going to study with you today."

I smiled icily at her, swallowing the anger that wanted to spill out. "Okay. If that's how you feel, I'll go. And I can tell your mother what you said." I stepped closer to her, trying not to be distracted by the beauty of her delicate cheekbones and slender physique. "But I heard that you've already lost your car keys, and if you keep this up, she's sending you to stay with your dad in North Dakota." I knew Kenna would absolutely hate that.

Her pouty face crunched up as her green eyes surveyed me, probingly. I felt her gaze intensely, and it flustered me, but I held my ground. "Fine," she relented. "Guess you can teach me. Or try, at least."

I sat down at the little table and gestured to the chair opposite me. "Calc is fun, it really is," I said, hoping I sounded convincing. "And you'll learn a lot about statistics in your economics courses." I hoped that she would be pliable for the remainder of my one hour.

She was not.

For the next hour she huffed, groaned, rolled her eyes and snapped at every instruction, every piece of advice I gave her. She yawned and painted her nails while I talked, and barely tried to solve any of the problems. When she did, she didn't come close to a right answer. I started to get a headache. "Kenna, listen. If you're not interested, that's fine, but we should probably just stop for today."

She shrugged and hopped onto her bed, then put in her Airpods. I scowled and packed up my things. As I opened the bedroom door, I heard her voice. I turned.

"Hey," she said, grinning wickedly. "I heard you were a dyke. Is that true?"

I slammed the door as I exited the room. My cheeks were burning red. Anger, embarrassment, and a bit of flustered arousal as well. How dare she? I shouldered my bag and walked down the hallway and out into the living room, eager to leave.

"She's a little nightmare, isn't she?" Mrs. Slater's voice jarred me, and I stopped still. She was sitting in the living room, having a glass of wine. "It's just been so hard ever since she started college. She won't study, won't learn anything, it's awful."

I opened my mouth, and closed it. It felt wrong, talking behind her daughter's back. "She wasn't so bad," I lied. "Just needs a little motivating."

Kenna's mother looked up, an eyebrow raised. "I hope you were firm with her." I wasn't sure what she meant by that, so I didn't respond.

She leaned back, sipping from the glass, her head tipped back just so, the elegant, long lines of her body on display as she lounged, the dark black bra visible under the white blouse. I felt a thrill as I caught a glimpse of it, the tanned skin of her breast peeking through the lace. "Would you care to join me for a glass of wine, Jessica?"

I blushed, worried she'd noticed me ogling her. "No... I really should go."

"Very well," she said, sighing as though I had gravely disappointed her. "I'll Venmo you for the lesson. Same time tomorrow?"

I hesitated. "I really don't think Kenna wants to learn from me."

Mrs. Slater smiled mysteriously. "Like I said, she just needs a firm hand. Don't be afraid to... discipline her." I swallowed at that word, a flash of heat shooting through my loins. She shot me a wicked smile and took a slow sip of wine, watching me, as if she knew just what I was feeling. I gave her a shaky wave goodbye, and got the hell out of there.

#

#

The next week was quite a miserable experience. As much as I hate the word, there was no other way to describe her - Kenna was an insufferable bitch. She talked back constantly, insulted me at every turn, and continued to imply that I was a dyke. And while I had, indeed, been intimate with a girl before, it was a fucked up thing to say, and she had no cause for it. I couldn't understand why she kept baiting me, or why she refused to pay attention to my tutoring.

As a matter of fact, there were only two times that Kenna was silent for more than five minutes, and those times were when her mother came home early, or came into her room for a moment to see how we were doing. She sat up, paid attention to what I said, and when it was all over she would return to her old, insolent self. And I swear Mrs. Slater kept giving me a look, like she expected me to do something. To take control of the situation. And I didn't know how to do that.

Until one day, when Kenna went too far.

It was my second week tutoring her. Mrs. Slater was working a lot more now, leaving me and her daughter alone for longer stretches. We were working at Kenna's desk in her room, me sitting in one chair and her lounging lazily on her bed, her pencil barely touching her notebook. I was at the end of my rope. I turned to face her. "I need you to actually try for once. For fuck's sake, Kenna, I can't teach you anything like this!"

"Oh my god," she said, rolling her eyes. "Chill out. I'm working on my nails, you little dyke."

I stood up and slapped her. The sound recoiled through the room, shocking both of us into quiet submission. I looked down at her reddening cheek, saw her eyes smarting with tears, and realized I'd royally fucked up. "Shit," I muttered, grabbing my bag. "Shit, I'm so sorry, Kenna. I really... shit. I didn't mean to hurt you. I gotta go." I hurried for the door.

"Stop!"

I stopped dead in my tracks. Her voice was angry and defiant, and a shiver of fear ran down my spine. I'd hurt her, humiliated her, and she had a right to be pissed. I slowly turned to face her, not wanting to meet her eyes. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, and the anger in her eyes had given way to a probing, hungry look.

"Do it again."

I blinked. "What?"

"Do it again."

I hesitated. "You mean, like... slap you again? No. Fuck. No way."

"Just do it." Kenna stood up and crossed her arms defiantly. "Slap me in the face, bitch. Hit me as hard as you can."

I set down my bag. This was so weird. "Are you fucking crazy, Kenna?"

"Are you?"

"You don't want me to hurt you," I said. "What are you trying to prove? That I'm an awful person?" I stepped closer to her. "Because if I hit you again, that's exactly what I am." I didn't like that her green eyes were boring into me, making me feel naked and exposed.

She looked at me for a moment, her face neutral. "Just do it, you dyke slut."

I didn't think. I slapped her again. And again. She shrieked and fell back against her bed, chest heaving as the blood rushed to her cheeks. "Yes," she said, her voice dropping to a low whisper. "I know you like slapping me, whore." I gasped in surprise as I felt her foot rub my calf, sliding up against my body, caressing my inner thighs. "Do it again."

I climbed on top of the bed, straddling her with my hips. I felt my throat constrict. "What are you doing?" I demanded. She didn't answer. She was running her fingers over the length of my legs, biting her lower lip. I realized, with a thrill, that her green eyes were trained on the tight, dark jeans I was wearing, and my skin burned at the attention. She wanted to touch me, I realized, to feel my skin under her fingers. And she didn't care that I was a girl.

I unbuttoned my jeans. "You've never been with a girl, have you?" I said, my words gentle now. I leaned forward and kissed her jaw, and I felt the cold, bitchy girl melt underneath me, just as my own loins slickened with desire. My hands curled around her throat. "Is this how you get a woman's attention? It's quite immature. Desperate." I kissed her, biting down on her lip and tugging it before kissing my way up her cheek, my teeth grazing her earlobe. "Something a pathetic little girl does, not a woman." She purred underneath me, her fingers tugging down the waistband of my jeans. My white panties were exposed, the wet spot glistening on them.

I reached down to unbutton her jean shorts. "My mom's going to be back soon," she whispered. "We have to be quick." I grunted in assent. I pulled her shorts down and off her legs, and then pulled my own jeans off. "Copy me," I said, lying down next to her. I wanted so badly to strip her naked and play with every part of her, but right now, I knew the two of us just wanted to get off. I considered myself pretty experienced at fingering a woman, having some experience with a girl before. The only girl I'd ever dated, for just a few months last year. I thought about the first time I'd slid my fingers down her underwear.

Kenna's panties were pink. I patted them and she moaned. I slid my fingers under the fabric and felt the bristles of her pubic hair before sliding down inside. She was dripping wet, and my pussy twitched at the feel of the slick moisture soaking her panties. She copied me, pushing her hand down my panties and pressing the pads of her fingers against my bare slit.

"Do what I do." I rubbed my fingers down the wetness of her folds, then slid them inside. She followed my lead and I groaned, biting her lip to stifle the noise. I didn't want Mrs. Slater walking in on the two of us, and neither did she. But if I'd learned anything from my time tutoring her, Kenna was not a good listener, so I grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled her ear down to my mouth. "Do not stop, no matter what." She groaned.

I matched her motions as best as I could. She had no fucking idea what she was doing, of course, her fingers were clumsy, unrefined. But it was hotter than anything I'd felt in months. The thrill of getting caught was too exciting. I twisted my fingers inside of her, feeling her body clench down around the invasion. She mimicked the motion, and I clenched around her.

Kenna let out a breathy, desperate moan, her fingers sliding deeper into me as she pulled me closer. I groaned. Her thumb grazed my clit and I pressed myself down against her, encouraging her, showing her. She began to circle my clit and I reciprocated, our bodies writhing together as our fingers plunged inside one another. My lips pressed to her cheek, kissing her soft, flushed skin. She bit my lip as our hips ground together. She let out a strangled whimper, and I knew she was close, I was close too. The sensation was overwhelming, it had been so long since I'd had anyone touch me, since I'd been inside anyone. I had almost forgotten the way the muscles gripped your fingers when someone was on the verge of an orgasm.

Kenna tensed against me. Her walls gripped me so tight that it hurt a little. She gasped and bit her lip. Her hand stilled and I hissed at her. "I didn't say to stop!" She began to move her hand again.

I could feel her body shudder against me. She was trying to be quiet. But a desperate gasp escaped her throat and I covered her mouth with my lips, swallowing the sounds as I tasted her mouth, the flavor of her cherry lip gloss. The pleasure in her body seemed to shudder and quake and I realized I'd been moving my fingers the whole time, working her through the orgasm.

When she opened her eyes and looked at me, I pulled away, blushing and flustered. But she pressed her mouth back to mine. We kissed for a bit, and then shot to our feet like jolted cats as we heard movement downstairs. We pulled our pants on, ignoring the dampness of our underwear and quickly gathered up our books. I glanced at her face, sighing in relief when I saw that she was red, but not bruised from my slapping. I put my things in my bag and stepped outside the door. She swatted me on the ass as I exited, and I covered my mouth with my hand to stifle the excited shriek that escaped me.

"I hope she was better today," Mrs. Slater said, as I headed for the front door. She was drinking wine again, and her eyes, green like her daughter's, looked me over probingly.

I nodded, trying not to blush. "Yeah, actually she was."

She smiled, a knowing look in her eyes that turned my face even redder. "A firm hand, Jessica. That's what she needs. See you tomorrow."

I closed the door behind me and exhaled, my cunt still wet and twitching. I couldn't believe what just happened. And I knew I was going home and fingering myself, just the way that Kenna had. I rushed to the car.

#

#

"The derivative is... oh... oh... oh, fuck!" Kenna said, her legs spasming as she gripped the edge of the desk with both hands. I kept lapping away at her loins dutifully. The blonde brushland of her nethers tickled my nose, as her wetness coated my tongue and throat, the rich scent of her cunt flooding my nostrils as she came.

I licked her slowly as she calmed, cleaning up the wetness, letting it drip down my chin. I removed myself from under the desk and rose as she pulled her panties back on under her skirt. "That's how you eat pussy," I said. I grinned, licking the last drops of her off my lips. "And how you take the derivative of a multivariable function."

"Thanks," Kenna said, with a grin. She stiffened, suddenly, and glanced over at her laptop. "Oh, shit, I need to get going. I'm meeting my friends at the mall."

I felt a twinge of jealousy. I had almost no friends left in my hometown. In fact, coming here and "tutoring" Kenna was basically the closest to a social life I had now. "Oh... that sounds fun," I said lamely.

She gave me a peck on the cheek as she tossed on her jacket and headed for the door. "Thanks for tutoring me. Maybe I'll try that lesson on you next time," she said, giggling as she ran down the stairs. I threw my bag over my shoulder and followed, a sulky expression flitting across my face. I had eaten her out, delaying my own satisfaction, and now she was off to have fun, while I went home, my cunt aching with need. It felt very unfair.

Mrs. Slater was downstairs. Drinking wine, as usual. It didn't seem like an issue with her - if anything, it seemed completely classy. "My very rude daughter just ran out of her in an absolute storm," Mrs. Slater said, rolling her eyes. "I'm sorry if she cut your lesson short. I'll still pay for the whole hour."