Aristippus - Jessica's Story

As my spasmatic convulsions subsided, Henri moved up my body and effortlessly entered me. I had been sexually active for three and a half years, ever since Luna broke my cherry. But until this moment, I had never felt the sensational stretching and pressure of my intimate region as I was currently feeling with Henri, yet with an electrifying silky smoothness that excited me and comforted me at the same time.

I spread my legs to allow Henri as much access as possible. Then as he buried himself as deeply into me as feasible, I raised my head so that my lips reconnected with his. I think I may have even bitten his lip, as I briefly tasted blood. But not wanting to hurt him, I quickly dropped my head back to the pillow and just breathlessly whimpered in a pleasure I had never known before.

We had both experienced massive orgasms only minutes earlier. However, our sexual energy was at a fever pitch, and though Henri remained over me in the missionary position, he held his weight off of me. He passionately rode me for at least fifteen minutes. And though Henri may have been satisfied to maintain one position, I could not. First, I swung my legs as wide open as I could get them. This was to allow Henri all the room he needed. Then I'd pull my knees up, with my feet flat on the bed. Soon I wrapped my legs around his body and locked my ankles together. I lifted myself off the mattress so that I could match Henri's forward thrusts with matching thrusts of my own. Only then to unwrap my legs, making the Big-V so that I could point my toes to the ceiling. And boy, could that man curl my toes. Then I'd start the whole sequence over again, just not necessarily in the same order.

Ultimately, Henri reached his second conclusion of the evening, and after filling me with his warm, sweet cream, he collapsed onto my chest, breathing like a racehorse. I slowly relaxed my grip on his body and lowered my legs as I was as exhausted as he was. And as Henri's body slowly settled onto mine, it was apparent that we were both sweaty hot. We lay together in a hot mess for several minutes, panting like greyhounds. I tried wrapping my arms around him, but he was just too hot to handle.

Ultimately, Henri pulled himself off my body and rolled from the bed. Walking across the room, he pushed the sheer drapes all the way to the wall and slid the bedroom sliding glass door open. The cool air of the nearby Pacific Ocean filled the room and instantly brought relief to our steamy bed. Henri then walked to the kitchen and retrieved a bottle of water, which he brought back to bed, and we shared before spooning together and drifting off to sleep.

The next thing I remember was the smell of bacon. I lifted my eyelids to see that Henri must have closed the sliding door, as well as the sheer drapes. He had also pulled the blackout curtains to where only a sliver of daylight entered the room. I felt behind my back to see if Henri was still there, and he wasn't. However, the sheets were still warm, so I knew he hadn't been gone for that long.

Sitting up, I could hear Henri in the kitchen, and the smell of bacon was clearly getting stronger. I walked to the bathroom to pee and wash my face. Then returning to the bedroom, I realized that he had left out a robe for me. I slipped it on, and though it was a man's robe, it was warm and comfy. Walking into the kitchen, there Henri was preparing breakfast.

Spotting me, Henri cheerfully said, "Good morning Sweet Pea. Did you sleep well?"

He was wearing nothing but boxer shorts and an apron. The apron had wine bottles printed on it and the phrase, 'I always cook with wine, sometimes I even put it in the food.' My mother had a similar apron, and I couldn't help but laugh. "You know I did, you sweet man."

He smiled and pointed to the breakfast table that he had already set with orange juice and a French Press coffee maker. "Well, breakfast is almost ready. Have a seat." As I settled into a chair, Henri added, "The coffee should be ready to press." I knew what French Press coffee was, but I'd never actually used one. Staring at it with a blank look on my face, Henri smiled and said, "Just slowly press the plunger all the way down."

Taking hold of the press, I slowly pushed the plunger as directed. Mesmerized by the unfiltered hot water and ground coffee being transformed into hot black coffee ready to drink before my eyes, Henri placed my plate on the table. As my attention moved from the coffee maker to the plate now in front of me - I was speechless. No one had made me breakfast since I had moved in with Luna, and this was the most amazing breakfast I had ever seen. I picked up my fork and knife and held them over the plate, yet unable to plunge them into the work of art before me.

Henri picked up his glass of orange juice and held it over the center of the table as if to make a toast. Suddenly breaking my trance, I put my knife and fork back down, and picking up my own orange juice, clinked my glass to his. "To the most incredible evening last night, and to the spectacular day ahead of us," he toasted.

I was still in a daze over how lovely our evening had been and even more impressed with the breakfast he had just prepared. After taking a sip of my orange juice, I placed my glass back down and picked up my fork and knife for the second time. "Henri," I stuttered. "This is amazing. It looks delicious."

"Well, my dear. I don't know what you normally eat for breakfast, but based on your appetite last night, I took a chance." He picked up his knife and fork and continued. "I have prepared, for your pleasure, Avocado Toast under a poached egg with a drizzle of bacon jam."

As I cut into it, I was even more impressed. The poached egg was absolutely perfect. Not only was it beautiful, but it was also cooked to perfection. The white was totally done, and the yoke was soft, but not runny. The toast was sourdough, a California tradition. And the mashed avocado was finished with a squeeze of lemon. The bacon drizzle was bacon jam from a jar (I could see it on the counter), but he had added a little olive oil and balsamic vinegar, then heated it so that he could drizzle it over the egg.

On the side of the plate, was the crispest bacon I had ever tasted, peeled orange slices, and sliced cherry tomatoes. And how he got the bacon so crisp, without overcooking it, I'll never know. I've been trying to do that ever since I started cooking, and again, I have no idea how he did that. It was indeed a breakfast fit for a queen.

When we were about halfway finished, I set my utensils down and was pouring myself a cup of coffee, when Henri said solemnly, "Jessica, I never asked you last night, and I apologize for assuming otherwise. But do you have a boyfriend or significate other?"

As I was adding cream and sugar to my coffee, I looked up at him and paused for a second. "Henri, I have been living with my boyfriend for the last three years." I paused again as I took a sip of my coffee. "But our relationship has been on a slow decline for at least a year. The first two years were great. However, we currently live as little more than roommates. And as it's his apartment, I just need to move out and find another place to live while we're still friends."

Henri tried to hide his excitement, but I could tell that I had just told him what he was hoping I'd say. Trying to hide his enthusiasm, he said, "Jessica, at the wine tasting last night, I introduced you as my 'California Representative.' He reached over and took my hand, "And assuming you are interested, I would like to make that official."

Now I could no longer withhold my enthusiasm. Squeezing his hand with excitement, I gushed, "Yes Henri. Yes, I would love to be your representative."

"Well, wait," he pleaded. "I haven't made the entire offer yet." I nodded, unable to hide my glee. "I'll pay you a competitive salary as if you were full-time. But honestly, the job won't entail more than a few hours a week. It's mostly just running errands and filing paperwork with local authorities. All most everything else is done over the internet these days. And when you have to drive anywhere, I will always pay you mileage. You'll receive the usual fringe benefits, insurance, 401k, etc... And, assuming you are still interested, one more really huge benefit."

I was clearly beside myself at this point. I was grinning from ear to ear and smiling like a Cheshire Cat. "You can live in this apartment. I'm only here a few days a month, maybe a week at the most. And I really need someone to live here full-time."

"Oh yes, oh yes. I can do that Henri, oh yes." I squealed.

"And when I'm in town, we'll be living together."

"Oh absolutely," I exclaimed. "In fact, I think you'll be coming to California a lot more." I wanted to say cuming and cuming, but I bit my tongue.

"There is just one condition," he said. I nodded, willing to agree to almost anything. "Never bring anyone here. When I'm not in California, your time is your time. You can surf, hang out with your friends, go to school, take classes, and work at the Paradise if you want. Just don't ever bring anyone here. This is our home, our home together."

"Oh absolutely, Henri. Absolutely - I totally understand."

He smiled and released my hand. "Great," he said as he picked up his coffee cup. "Jessica, you are a beautiful and incredibly talented young woman. If I can make a suggestion, I'd like to recommend you sign-up for some wine and culinary classes. I think you can go far in this business, and classes like that would certainly help you."

I put my coffee down, jumped up and ran around the table to hug him. "Henri, thank you, thank you. I won't let you down, I promise. I will be the best representative you have ever had." I kissed him on the cheeks and forehead. "The best damn representative any wine distributor could ever dream of."

We finished breakfast as he told me more about his business and the responsibilities I would likely have. It all seemed very easy and things I could comfortably handle. Then moving back to the kitchen, we did the dishes together, while he explained how to cook the perfect poached egg. We then moved to the bedroom, objectively to make the bed. But halfway through the process, I dropped my robe (his robe actually) and took him back to bed.

It was almost noon before we had actually made the bed, showered together, and were dressed to leave the apartment. Henri drove me around LA, showing me government offices that I may have to visit in performing the course of my duties. And as the afternoon wore on, we stopped at several retail stores where his wines are sold, and then finally to a very exclusive French restaurant. We sat at what is known as the Chef's Table, and without ever seeing a menu, we were served the most incredible meal I had ever eaten.

Once back at his apartment, I mean our apartment, I showed him pictures and videos of my surfing experience, including ones of me losing my bikini. He laughed hysterically, before saying that to make sure those videos were genuine, he needed to inspect my breasts personally. He took me back to bed, for the most tender and sweetest lovemaking of my life.

And while relaxing in the glow of after-sex, Henri slid down between my legs for a second taste of my feminine delights. I can now really understand why he spells his name with an "I." For he is a true connoisseur of the French arts. And I absolutely loved it. But what shocked me was that he did it after we had had sex. I always assumed men wouldn't do that, because - well, who knows why. Maybe they are afraid the taste of their own semen will turn them gay or something. But I can assure you that Henri is not gay, and that he seemed to love it. The irony is that men don't mind you giving them a blow job, and they certainly seem to appreciate it if you swallow. So why shouldn't it be, 'What's good for the goose, shouldn't also be good for the gander.'

Henri had to leave the next day for Chicago. I informed Luna that I was moving out, and luckily, he was happy for me. I think we were both relieved. And it was certainly no surprise, as I hadn't been home for two days. He even offered to help me move, but heeding Henri's instructions about bringing people to the apartment, I graciously declined his offer.

The next four years were some of the best years of my life - at least to date. I took Henri's advice and signed up for wine and culinary classes. I loved them, and I learned so much. And as Henri had predicted, I developed an excellent working knowledge of fine wine and foods. However, I knew it couldn't last forever.

There is an old saying among mistresses, 'He'll never leave his wife for you.' I knew of the expression, and I was hoping that it wasn't always true. Or maybe, I was just hoping that it wouldn't happen to me.

But a little after my fourth anniversary with Henri, I received the following e-mail:

My Dearest Jessica,

It is with the heaviest of hearts that I must tell you, that our business and personal relationship must come to an end. My wife has known about you for at least two years. But has not made an issue of it, as she has also been unfaithful on multiple occasions, while on business trips to New York and Washington DC. However, our daughters are now in high school, and they need us more than ever. They need us to be a family, and we both need them. My wife and I have been in marriage counseling for six months now, and we have agreed to end all extramarital activities immediately. We have agreed to renew our vows publicly and with our daughters present, along with our extended families. I love my daughters, I really do love my wife, and I love our family. I must preserve and protect it. I sincerely apologize for any hurt I have ever caused you and for having to sever our relationship on such short notice. But I have no other choice. There are three more months on the apartment's lease. You are welcome to stay until the lease expires, and I will continue to pay you your salary for the next three months. But I can no longer communicate with you; I hope you understand. However, if asked, I would be delighted to give you glowing recommendations for future employment. Thank you for all you have done for me. The best of luck, and I will never forget you.

Henri

I was disappointed, to say the least. I loved my relationship with Henri. In fact, I think I was even in love with him. But I didn't cry. I simply sat on the beach staring out to sea for several days. However, today is a new day, and I must move on. I'm sure that with my experience, I could get a job with another distributor, or retailer, or restaurant. I loved the lifestyle I had with Henri. And I have money to last for a little while, so here I am at the Aristippus Resort, taking classes on how to market myself as the perfect mistress, paramour, or wine and cheese courtesan. I don't know where this will take me, but I'm loving the classes, so who knows? There are plenty of rich horny bastards out there in Southern California. So, all I have to do is to hook one.