The Whipping Turn

Paris - Self-discovery

Monday. Ugh.

Jenna fumbled for her phone on the nightstand. She often didn't end up on the edge of the bed but Jean was sprawled out, a large hand splayed on her tummy. He was snoring lightly. Oliver's side was empty, so it wasn't the middle of the night at least but it still felt dark and cold out of the blanket. The man next to her was like a small furnace and Jenna would have happily snuggled back against the hard and hairy warmth but her bloody phone said otherwise. It was time to get up.

She slipped out from under Jeans limbs and made her way to the ensuite, stifling a groan as she moved.

Christ, she could feel last night everywhere. Arm and thigh muscles were stiff and ached and with that came a realisation that she needed to get back into better shape. Not to her level before, but, well some classes might be a good idea soon. She gave a couple of halfhearted stretches.

Not just arms and legs, Jenna mused with a small smile to herself. Leaning into the shower to turn on the water, Jenna could feel the after affect of Jean Abadie's, well, many inches and she stripped off carefully.

The hot water had been briefly soothing and when Jean sleepily entered the bathroom, Jenna was toweling off. Kissing her lazily as he went past, Jean moved to the sink to splash cold water on his face.

"Ugh! Fuck. Brrr." A man of few words, first thing.

Jenna stooped to pick her bedclothes up and grimaced. I might have some ibuprofen in my handbag. I'll grab some food and pop some of...

Jean had stopped and was looking at her.

She looked back. "What?"

"You're sore."

"Yeah," and she smiled coquettishly at him, "aren't you?"

"No, you're SORE sore. I hurt you."

"I would say that's a bit of a stretch but I can see you're not up to jokes right now."

"Jenna." His face was stern and a bit sad, and she felt bad.

"Hey." Jenna cupped his jaw. "It's a good sore. An 'I had gooood time last night' sore. Come on, you know what that's like."

Jean moved his head away from her hand and turned his back to her. "It's not the same." he muttered.

Jenna wasn't having any of this shit. She grabbed his shoulder and forced Jean to turn back to her.

"Why? Because I'm a girl? Because I'm smaller than you? Because I've had trauma? You'd better tell me Jean, because I'm struggling to understand."

Jenna did not feel flirty anymore and her eyes combatively ground into Jean. He took on the challenge and stood to his full height.

"Yes, all of those things, ok! I thought girls didn't like it as much as guys. That maybe you're, I dunno, doing it because you know we like it. And maybe you don't mind it but now you're hurt because of that, and that's not ok." Jenna could see Jean start to falter as he watched her face. She was pretty sure everything he needed to know was in her glare. Still he nodded to himself and waited for her response.

Calm. Count to ten. Breathe.

Jenna leaned against the bathroom counter, closed her eyes and sighed. She slightly shook her fingers out and rolled her shoulders and sighed again.

She opened her eyes.

"Ok. Listen. Firstly I know what the bad kind of sore the next morning feels like and this is not that. And nowadays, I never do anything, ever, that I don't want to. You are going to have to trust me that I will always say no or stop. I know how to do this. Ok?"