Jess was a Bitch Ch. 14

Back in Dallas, Jon paints like a man possessed. There's not much in the way of sex, beyond a bit of phone sex.

Thanks, as always, to LarryInSeattle for his editing skills.

Enjoy.

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Exhaustion, physical and emotional, overwhelms Jon and he's asleep before the van has finished the rounds of the other resorts. His fellow passengers assume he is hungover; they aren't far from the truth. His seatmate jostles him awake as they near the airport. The airport is packed, even in the first-class security line he has plenty of time to think. He's too immersed in his thoughts to be embarrassed about cutting in line just because his dad has money. Once he's through security, he stops at the closest shop to get a bottle of water. As he moves toward the register, something breaks through the fog of misery he had done his best to hide from Jess. He changes course and picks up a small tablet of paper. It's a sign of the times that he doesn't really know what it's for. The pages are thin and at the back there's a tear out page with lines. It dawns on him that the pad was meant for writing. The lined page goes underneath each of the other pages to provide a guide.

He smiles. The only pencils are an over-priced package of Bic mechanical pencils. So be it. He makes his purchases and finds his gate. He drains the bottle in two long swallows. He takes a moment to drop the bottle in a recycle bin, returns to his seat, oblivious to the large-chested woman his age trying to catch his eye then sits down and opens the pencils and the pad. He's soon so lost in what he's doing that even the crappy pencil ceases to bother him.

Image after image; the one he had in the water when Jess' body had cause him to cum, her face, the ocean, gulls, Caitlin, his dad. The pencil flies over the page. He stops to erase, to smudge, and, on occasion, to rip a page out and wad it up in his fingers. He spends the most time on the image from in the water with Jess. It's impossible to fit it on one page. He sketches page after page, each a small portion of the large image in his mind.

"Uh, excuse me, but, uh, is this your flight?" Jon doesn't respond. A hand tentatively touches his shoulder. "Uh, is this your flight?" He looks up at the bemused face of the large-chested woman. As he does, the gate worker announces final boarding.

"Fuck. Yeah, uh, thanks," he stammers, shoving the pad and pencil into his open backpack and grabbing it.

"No problem. It's cool." She smiles, and Jon smiles back automatically, given the young woman a hope that doesn't exist.

Jon steps aside to let her board first. She's disappointed when he stops in first-class. So's the guy next to him, who'd almost convinced himself he'd have both seats to himself. The fact that Jon has the window seat doesn't improve his mood. His mollified, to an extent, when Jon leans against the window and sleeps until the attendant taps him on the shoulder and tells him they'll be landing soon. Jon does his best to ignore the fact that he's about to piss his pants as the plane seems to take hours to land and longer to taxi to the gate. For the first time in his life he doesn't stand aside and let others exit first. He runs to the closest bathroom and does his best not to squirm as he waits with all the others who need to drain the hose. Finally, he pisses forever, shivering twice.

He waits amidst the herd milling around the luggage carousel. He returns the wave of the big-chested gal with a nod, then remembers to text his parents and Jess that he's home. He's home. And Jess is in Mexico. For the first, but not the last time over the coming week, he tells himself he is an idiot for not letting her come home with him.

His father retained enough of his Dutch ancestors' frugality to have set the AC at 85^o. Jon is dripping sweat before he can drop his bag and adjust the thermoset. He gulps down another glass of water, scans the fridge, grabs the keys to his mom's Odyssey and heads out the garage door. He pats the hood of his tired, old, faithful Civic on the way out. His mom's car has more room and a functioning air-conditioner. He puts what seems a small fortune on his credit card at Asel's, then Lowe's before stopping at Albertson to grab a gallon of milk, a dozen packages of albacore tuna, and a loaf of bread. He hurries home and unpacks.

The fifth bay of the garage is a small workshop, mostly hand tools. He took technical arts in high school so he has some idea of what to do. Even so it takes him longer than he'd imagined to tack together an 8X5 foot frame. He's frustrated when he realizes he'll need to add bracing; the frame is too flimsy. He's spared the frustration of driving back to Lowe's, having anticipated he'd need more lumber than he'd planned. He's glad he elected to go ahead and buy the small electric nail gun. He's stretched canvas before, but nothing this size. He grabs the roll of canvas and gets to it. He's picking up the bucket of gesso when a pain hits him. It takes him a moment to realize the pain is a hunger pang. He's startled when he looks at his phone and discovers its almost midnight.

"Shit!", he exclaims and is startled again when his voice echoes in the garage. He hurries inside, dialing Jess' number, trying to remember if Cancun is on the same time as Dallas.

"Hi, Jess. I'm so sorry. I promised to call. I was trying to get a canvas ready."

"It's okay. I could have called you. It works both ways, babe."

"I miss you. I should have stayed or brought you home. I'm an idiot."

"Well, I've told you that your whole life," Jess giggles. The giggle fades. "I miss you, too."

"What's it like hanging out with mom and dad, Travis and Caitlin? Weird?"

"Fucking weird. We all miss you."

"Are you going to have sex with them?"

"Who?!"

"Caitlin, Travis. Jesus, not mom and dad!"

"No, to both. You aren't here. It's against the rules. Besides I don't want to without you with me."

"Okay. I was okay with it the other day, but like you said, I was still there, watching. I don't think I want you to, but if you do, it's cool."

"Nope. No way. I may have to get out of here for a few hours so the rest of them can just fuck and clear away the fog of repressed lust. It's fucking stifling. What are you painting?"

"Nothing yet. I have an idea but I need a bigger canvas than is easy to buy, so I had to build a frame and stretch my own."

"Jesus, you can do that? How big is it?"

"Eight by five."

"You had canvases that big here."

"Feet, not inches, eight feet by five feet."

"What are you painting?"

"You'll have to wait and see."

"Want to have phone sex? I could Skype you while I masturbate."

"Aren't you on the hide-a-bed?"

"Yeah, everyone else went to bed."

"No. The whole point of this was to get the sex outta our heads, so we could think straight. You made me promise I wouldn't jerk off while we were apart."

"Yeah but you hated the idea. Now you don't want to jerk off?"

"No, I mean yeah, I always want to jerk off when I'm thing about you but I'm sort of into the challenge aspect of this. Are you pissed?"

"No, I'm horny and I miss you."

"I'm sorry, baby."

"If you were here, I'd be sucking your cock. Sticking my tongue underneath your foreskin to get at all that precum you hide there."

"No fair."

"Yep, totally unfair. I grab it with my lips and stretch it over the head, then deep throat your throbbing cock and rub my nose against your belly." Jess' voice is a soft purr in his ear. A purr that seems to go straight from his ears to said cock, which while not yet throbbing, is starting to pay attention. "You like that? You like my mouth on your cock?"

"You know I do," Jon groans.

"What would you be doing? Would you have your fingers in my hair? Guiding my head? Maybe I should just sit back and let you fuck my mouth. You want to fuck my mouth, little brother? You want to shove your cock into my throat? Fill me with your cum?"

"Yes, Jesus, Jess, yes, I want to fuck your mouth."

"Mmm, good. After you fuck my mouth, I'd push you back on the bed, kiss you and shove my tongue in your mouth, fill your mouth with your own cum. Eat your cum out of my mouth, Jon. Eat it, then eat me, eat my cunt."

Jon's cock throbs. "Jesus, Jess, you're making it hard not to. Maybe we should just plan on not jerking off for the last three days or something. You're making me want to change my mind. A whole week?"

"That was the deal wasn't it?"

"Yeah, but what if you decide it's over? What then?"

"Well, we'd have to have good-bye sex, wouldn't we? I want to see how much you cum after a week, a week where we'll be teasing each other. You can tease me, too, ya know. I promised as well. My pussy is dripping but I haven't touched it. How 'bout you?"

"No, I haven't touched your pussy either," Jon groans.

"Not me, have you..."

"I know what you meant. Christ, it was a joke, Jess. No, I haven't touched my cock." He holds the phone in one hand and fumbles his jeans open. He pushed them and his underwear down. His cock juts almost vertical from his body. He snaps a quick photo, sends it. "I haven't touched my cock, Jess, but it's hard. So hard. Can you see how hard it is? Can you imagine how it'd feel buried in your pussy?" He hears a hiss.

"Now who's not playing fair?" Jess protests. "God, your cock looks fucking gorgeous. Damn."

"It could be in your pussy, on your knees, I'm holding your hips and pounding your pussy." He slaps his bare thigh with the flat of his free hand. "The room would rock to the sound of my body slamming into you, fucking you. You'd push against the wall, bracing yourself so that my cock would be forced as deep into you as it could."

"Uh-huh, fuck me, babe. Fuck my pussy, Jon. Please, fuck my pussy."

"I will. I am. I'm spreading your ass cheeks with my hands, spitting on your ass, rubbing it over your asshole with my fingers."

"Fuck, Jon are you going to fuck me in the ass? With that big dick of yours?"

"Do you want me to? Do you want my cock in your ass, Jess?"

"You know I do. I want your cock in my ass, while I fuck myself with my fingers."

"You aren't doing that, fucking yourself are you?"

"Huh? No. I was going along with the story. I told you, I'm good with the promise. Way to kill the buzz, baby brother."

"It needed to be killed anyway. I'm afraid I'll cum without even touching my dick. Shit, Jess, what about wet dreams?"

"What are you twelve?"

"Seriously, if you're going to get me this wound up every night, I won't have to be twelve again to worry about jizzing in my sleep."

"Okay, well enough for tonight then." Her voice softens. "Good night, babe. I miss you."

"I miss you, too. I love you."

"I know but thanks for saying it. I love you. Good night."

"Night."

Jon pulls up his pants and underwear with one hand. He can smell his own budding funk but falls into bed without showering. He lays atop the sheets, naked, cock aching, thinking of Jess and the painting he wants to get done. He falls asleep, never remembering he's supposed to work in the morning.

***

The suite is spacious but it's still a hotel suite. Caitlin can't make out Jess' words but she knows who she's talking to and she can imagine what they're saying to each other. Travis is sound asleep. Caitlin is happy he's on his back, happier he's at a sleep stage that has resulted in a very satisfactory erection. Listening to Jess' murmured voice and imagining the words she's saying has her wet. She's atop Travis and has his dick in her pussy before he begins to stir. She's riding him, hard, by the time he wakes up enough to grunt, "Huh?" She leans over him and presses her face to his. "Sssh, love, just fuck me, Trav. Please? I need you to love me."

She doesn't need to ask twice.

***

Gloria is not asleep. She lies on her side, the bedside lamp angled to light the book she's reading. James is snoring in as inconspicuous manner as possible, as befits his personality. She tried hard to not be distracted by Jess' voice. She almost succeeded. She had less success, when, soon after Jess' voice went silent, the bed next door began to, not so much squeak, as moan along with the couple making it moan. She gives up and lets the book drop to the floor. She pulls up the bottom of her knee-length gown and draws her right leg up, crooking the knee, opening herself to her questing fingers.

Neither her personality, or her movements, are as inconspicuous as her husband's. When he realizes what she's doing, he rolls to embrace her. He nuzzles and kisses the side of her face, her neck and breast as he jerks off against her leg. He cums first. His cum feels hot on the side of her leg. Gloria gasps and lets her own orgasm flow through her.

***

On the couch, Jess smiles at the sound of her mother's gasp. In the master bedroom, Travis and Caitlin do the same.

Before long, the suite grows quiet, other than soft snores and occasional sighs.

***

"Can I take a look at where you want to put the gallery?"

Jess, Caitlin, and James are seated at the breakfast bar. Caitlin looks up from her iPad where she's reading news headlines. She's happy to put that aside. "Of course, I'd love to show the place and see what you think." She looks at James. "Would you like to see it, too?"

"Sure." He folds his paper and places it by his coffee cup. "When?"

"How about now? Before it's open? Too soon?"

"Not as long as I have time to brush my teeth," James responds. Jess nods her agreement.

"Okay, then. I'll meet you out here in ten," Caitlin says, after draining the last of her tea.

Caitlin lets them in with a key. "Sophia won't be in for another hour." She lets them in, then re-locks the door. "You've seen the shop before, haven't you?" Jess and her father nod. "She waves her hand at the side of the store filled with tee shirts, hats, sunscreen, and the usual beach knick-knacks. "You can find this stuff at every shop along both sides of the street. It sells okay and the margin is good but it's nothing special." She waves to the smaller area of the store, where a few paintings are hung and a smattering of small sculptures and pottery sit. "I want to convert the store to a gallery, featuring Jon's work, but other local artists as well. The customers that come in here for a tee shirt aren't interested in this stuff and anyone looking to buy art probably doesn't do more than look in the door, see the kitschy crap and never comes in."

Jess nods. "You know, you could flip-flop the store. Move the art section over here. In the smaller space, why not higher end clothing, beachwear, stuff like that, not necessarily designer clothing but why not? If you get enough patrons looking for art, some of them are going to be interested in nice clothing. Let the other shops sell tee shirts, you could scout out the area for local designers."

Caitlin grabs Jess' hand. "That's not a bad idea. In fact, that might be a great idea. Maybe I should have waited until Sophia was here. She's damn smart and knows the area, the artists etc. She's been telling me for a year or more that this," she waves her hand at the racks of tee shirts, "is simply competing with our other beach shop."

"You have another shop?" James asks.

To her credit, Caitlin blushes. "Yeah, this one, the beach shop, the one next to the bar we went to the other day, uh, the restaurant." She pauses. "And a small rental outside of town."

"Wow," Jess exclaims.

"I was able to talk the executor of my trust into enough money for the beach shop. I took the profits from that and got this one when I heard the owner was looking. Then the restaurant and the rental. I hated the idea of being some rich cunt American buying up shit, so other than the beach shop, I've always made sure I have someone from the community as a partner. The restaurant was great but it was clear it need an infusion of capital to make it really great. I supplied that, and a few suggestions and Miguel, the chef, did the rest. I take a little bit higher portion of the profits until he owns half. Same for this place and Sophia. The rental as well, Sophia. I try to keep a low profile and provide the seed money."

"Don't sound so defensive," James tells her. "I think that's a wonderful way to do business. If I had any worries about Jon and this deal, I don't any longer. You should be proud. You could have just lived off your father's money. How do you find time? I mean you're a doctor, a business owner, a..." James voice trails off and he blushes.

"A swinger?" Caitlin says, chuckling. "I'm very careful about my partners, business and otherwise, but right now I'm referring to the business. Sophia and Miguel do the bulk of the work."

James nods. "Do you have a safe storage area? If you start to carry high end merchandise and art, how will you secure it?"

"That's where David comes in. I'm hoping he can help me decide on security systems, fire systems, stuff like that. Here let me show you the rest of the place." She motions for them to follow her to the back of the store. She unlocks a second door and steps aside to let them enter. The storeroom, James supposes that's the best word for it, is quite large. It's at least as large as the front of the store. In addition, there's a small stove, table and a walled off alcove he assumes is a bathroom. The back section doesn't sport a suspended ceiling. It's open to the peak of the roof. Around the top of the walls a series of small, and very dirty, windows attempt to let in light. The wall dividing the back of the building from the front doesn't extend to the roof. Above the ceiling of the front half of the shop, sheets of plywood have been laid across the rafters, providing even more, albeit awkward, storage space.

"Wow," Jess breaths. "I had no idea the building was this large."

"The front, both sections, is 1100 square feet and this back part a little under a thousand. There's plenty of room to add a fire-resistant safe to store the art, at least the paintings, in. We'll need to add bars to the front windows and doors, and I'd say a sprinkler system too. Take a look out here." She leads them to a door beside the small door. When she opens the door, the room is flooded with sunshine.

Once more, Jess is reduced to a single, "wow". Behind the building is a decent-sized garden. It's suffered from neglect but there's a flagstone patio and on it, a small bistro table and two chairs. It is surrounded by plants in desperate need of a restraining hand. The buildings on either side are single-storied. The back of the garden is walled off by a privacy fence.

"What a great spot," Jess whispers.

"It is. I feel bad we don't keep it up." Caitlin looks around. "I tease Travis that if he ever pisses me off too much, I'll simply live in back of the store."

"You'd never leave Travis," Jess protests.

"No, I don't expect I would, though in medicine we say, 'never say never'."

"We say it in accounting as well," James adds. "Is the building paid for?"

"Yes. I didn't make an offer until I had the money. I don't really 'own' it. You know about the restricted zones?" James nods. Jess looks confused. "In Mexico, foreign nationals cannot own land outright within fifty kilometers of the coast, which this obviously is. Sophia could have bought it with my money and we could have set up a business contract but it was easier to simply create a real estate trust. The trust, technically, owns the building. It's the same at the resort. The resort is owned by a trust, controlled by my father's company; it's not 'owned' by my father."

"I was wondering about that," James says, nodding. "So, the trust is carrying no debt on the building?" Caitlin shakes her head. "And the cash flow is enough to pay Sophia for managing the place?"

"More than enough. Both here and the restaurant, we set up a base salary for Miguel and Sophia. They get paid. Then we split anything that's left, in both cases, they typically are giving me most, or all, of their share to put toward buying a fifty percent equity in, well, in the trust, not the building."