Three's a Crowd Pt. 01

While I would be out front, wiping the dirt from tables, Jasmine would be leaning against the counter, playing on her phone, or helping herself to a cold drink from the soda machine. At times, she'd even pour herself a milkshake or enjoy an ice cream: treats that were expressly forbidden to the other staff. I'd shoot her daggers, and nod to the others, pleading with her to remain out of sight, and she would do so. Hiding away to enjoy her stolen treat, while I had to cover her ass on the counter. With my sleeves rolled up to my elbows, sweat blotting my forehead, I'd glance over and feel that same fuzzy feeling as I basically demoted myself to menial work, all so this pretty girl could earn her money in the easiest way. She'd sit on a box of empty cups, hidden away between machines, teasingly licking her ice cream cone with the soles of her black shoes facing my direction. Whether she had been aware or not, that was reward enough for my exhaustion, and it kept me committed to the task of doing the menial shit she was evidently too good for.

I looked around my apartment, and grimaced at how clean it was, and knowing that was all because of me. That was a plight in itself, as Jasmine often just threw things on the floor or made a mess, particularly at dinner time. I mean, why would she bother worrying about keeping things clean, when she had me to do that for her? Still, it was all worth it, because I felt alive whenever I was at her feet. Even now, alone on the sofa, my body was still throbbing and shaking with adrenaline after the recent bout of depraved subjugation. I had gone up against my housemate, and I had come away the loser, like I always did. Like I lived for. I was more excited after that brief encounter, than I'd been earlier that day when Barbara had suggested we move in together.

I lay back against the cushions, and suddenly felt relaxed. Was this all really so bad? If anything, Barbara was the distraction, and she was the one getting in the way of my servitude of my housemate. Jasmine was right, I enjoyed doing things for her, and it made me feel useful and gave me purpose. I was enjoying having Jasmine living me with, and basically mooching off me on a daily basis; it was almost as if I went about life on the edge of a constant orgasm with the way she so persistently tapped into my submissive side. It fulfilled all of the rejection-fuelled masochistic desires that had built up from my childhood. Jasmine was shrewd and adept at her role in everything too. She didn't pay a cent towards rent and often lounged around my apartment in her underwear: just as Barbara had feared, though forever teasingly out of my reach. Whenever she wanted something, like a snack, she'd call out towards my room without bothering to lift a finger herself. I was in charge of keeping the groceries stocked and all of the cleaning responsibilities fell towards me. Jasmine's role in all of this was basically to be my boss, the same way I'd been for about the first minute of her arrival at the restaurant. There was no pay cheque ever sent my way though; my payment was her beautiful, irresistible feet.

There were other tasks too, and since she didn't work anymore, I'd often find myself expected to cover outside expenses. If Jasmine wanted to meet up with friends, I'd usually get a Venmo request sent my way, along with a picture of her foot to lure me in. The first time it had happened had been a joke on her part, an attempt at pushing her luck, but after my enthusiastic response, it had now become a routine. These days, I'd even find myself vacuuming and polishing Jasmine's room, while she'd be laying on the bed with her feet crossed; her soft soles constantly motivating me that the effort, and the decimation of my male-pride, was worth it. She only allowed me to enter while she was there to supervise my work, and her feet and strict overseeing only made me work all the harder.

It was an arrangement that had lasted a full two years up to this point, and I'd found it both exciting and fulfilling. No one else would have understood, and Barbara would have surely been horrified, but it worked for the pair of us, and I suddenly felt annoyed that Barbara wanted to take it all from me. I mean, I wasn't forcing my way into her life and demanding she give up the things that made her happy, was I? Meanwhile, Jasmine seemed in no rush to change anything. I mean, why would she? She pretty much had it made while living off of me. But if it was what I wanted too, maybe Jasmine was the one that really cared about me? Barbara and I had enjoyed a six month relationship, but that paled in comparison to what I'd shared with Jasmine.

"How did it go?" Barbara asked expectantly from behind me.

"Jesus," I yelled while almost jumping from my seat. "Where did you come from?"

"Did you tell her?"

"Kind of," I said, while reaching over for the TV remote, clicking it on and attempting to pretend everything was now sorted.

"So, she's moving out then?" She took a seat next to me on the couch, and leant over and kissed me on the lips, slipping her tongue inside for a snog, before I realised what had happened. She then sat back, licked her lips, and offered me a strange look.

"Ummm, well, I, kind of," I said, while looking at her mouth and wondering if she knew what she'd just tasted. Despite feeling bad, my cock remained hard at the idea that Barbara had just accidentally learned what Jasmine's toe sweat tasted like.

"What's that mean?" She screwed up her face, then licked her lips again, before adding, "Did you brush your teeth today?"

"Yes," I said more firmly, though I could feel her eyes still boring through me. "I told her." That was the truth. I just wasn't revealing that it hadn't worked.

"Well, great." Barbara snatched the remote from my hand.

"Hey, what you doing? I was looking for a movie."

She poked her tongue out, then cycled through the apps on my television. "We can watch my Netflix here now," she said. "Since I'm going to be living here soon and all." She entered the details, and after a few minutes, we were looking through the various movies and shows on offer. Barbara picked one, and cuddled up to me.

However, I couldn't settle, knowing that Jasmine was mere metres away and if the two of them came together, well, it wasn't going to go well, was it? "Shall we head out?" I suggested.

"Don't be silly." She rolled her eyes. "We just got here. I'm going to enjoy having quiet nights in with you."

I gritted my teeth, my mind cycling through the various ways this was going to head south. Still, each time I tried to encourage Barbara to leave, she was having none of it. As a result, I stayed there on the sofa, trying to watch the movie, while my head constantly turned to Jasmine's room, praying that she was busy with something and wouldn't emerge before I could get Barbara off home.

However, it was only minutes into the movie, before I closed my eyes in resignation as I heard the familiar call of, "Jaaaaaaames." The voice was Jasmine's, and the two of us turned to see her scampering through the living area towards the kitchen. "Where the hell is my drink?" She was now wearing a tight pair of hot pants along with my loose-fitting t-shirt; her pointed nipples evident through the fabric and revealing that she wasn't wearing a bra. "Oh," she said pausing near the kitchen door, with no attempt to cover herself up. "Is this her?"

Barbara turned towards me, her eyebrow raised in confusion. She silently mouthed to me: what is she wearing? When I failed to say anything, she called out, in an unimpressed tone, "Hi, you must be Jasmine, right?"

"You must be"--Jasmine paused and dropped her fists to her hips, only resulting in pushing her nipples out further--"Brenda? Right?" She cocked her head and stared quirkily at my girlfriend. "Or was it Brianna?"

"Barbara. It's Barbara."

"Oh, sorry, Babs. I'm terrible with names."

"Just Barbara is fine."

Jasmine bit her lip, then she held her hands aloft and looked over at me with a roll of her eyes. "Okay," she mouthed, before backing into the kitchen. As she neared the doorway, my eyes dropped to her feet momentarily. When I looked up, she winked at me and mouthed, "Bad boy," before grinning and disappearing out of shot.

"What is she wearing?" Barbara asked through gritted teeth, nudging me painfully in the arm with her elbow. "I knew it. Does she always dress like this?"

"No, I...uh..." I watched as Jasmine headed back to her room, one of my cold bottles of beer dangling in her grip. I was only thankful that their first meeting had been mostly painless, and my girlfriend hadn't recognised the t-shirt was one of my own.

Barbara appeared totally flabbergasted anyway. "You didn't tell her, did you?"