Emma didn't resist; instead, she participated with gusto, reaching her own arms around her friend's much smaller body and pressing her tight, too. Their lips were just as hungry for the taste of each other's mouths as they had been for the incredible quantities of food they'd consumed. Their kisses were deep and sweet, and they were certain later that the taste of chocolate and cherries didn't just come from the cake they'd eaten, but from the passion they radiated. When they finally separated, neither one opened their eyes for a moment; they just stood close, feeling the gentle breeze of each other's breath on their cheeks. "I'm sorry," Lisha said, finally, "but I couldn't help myself. I know you don't want to take the chance again..." Emma smiled gently and pressed her finger across Lisha's full cupid's-bow lips, saying, "I don't take chances. I feel like this is a sure thing." They kissed again, this time more slowly and sensitively, their hands tracing complex pathways across each other's backs, the crashing wave of emotion slowly calming down in a series of tiny kisses, lips brushing, cheeks touching.

Emma broke the long silence that followed, saying, "Hey! Don't we have a call to make?" "We can do that later. There's other things we can do now..." "Lee, I don't know about you, but I am so stuffed that doing something that requires any kind of motion is about as likely to happen as me sprouting wings and flying to the moon. Besides: we've got plenty of time. I'm not going anywhere yet, and neither are you. So... who are we going to scam next?"

Lisha quietly accepted Emma's decision, then changed gears quickly, saying, "Mr. Collins. I can't WAIT to hear what he has to say!" Emma rubbed her hands together mischievously, saying, "Bring me the phone! This is gonna be good!" The school secretary checked her schedule and determined that Mr. Collins should be in the cafeteria, and she would page him there for this important long-distance call. He answered a few minutes later, in his usual huff, but Emma didn't give him a second to gain any kind of control. "Mr. Collins," she said. "Are you in a private area? I have some questions of a very sensitive and delicate matter concerning one of your former students and it is imperative -- for your sake as well as this student's -- that this conversation remain private and discreet." "Well, yes," he said, put off balance a little by Emma's authoritarian tone. "I am in my private office. What is this all about?" "We understand that you are the Women's Field Hockey coach and the Drama Instructor at Kennedy High School and that you have had both these positions for the past twelve years. Is this correct?" "Yes, it is, but what IS this all about?" "Is it true that you were the advisor for the performance of 'Oil" in the spring of 1986? And that it was you who made the decisions about casting for that play, including removing Lisha Goldrock from the running for the lead part?"

"Oh, God!" he said. "more questions about Lisha? Can't you just let the girl alone? Can't you let ME alone?" "Mr. Collins," Emma said, "this information is very important to us, and we would like to show you how grateful we will be to you for providing us with the information we need." She then gave him the same routine, having him call a company that Emma -- having been a former field hockey player -- knew to be the major national distributor of uniforms and equipment. When she called him back, he said, "I can't believe it! This school district's been on an austerity budget and we haven't had new uniforms and equipment in five years! Thank you! Now ask away! Anything at all!"

"Okay. We know Miss Goldrock auditioned for the lead female role. Can you tell me why she didn't get the part?" "Well, she really wasn't suited for it." "You're being evasive, Mr. Collins and that doesn't demonstrate gratitude. Why was she unsuitable? Was it her acting ability? Was it her singing ability?" "No -- absolutely not! She was a gifted actress -- and still getting better -- and she had a lovely, sweet voice, that, sadly, hasn't been utilized at all in Hollywood. I kept telling her to go to Broadway, but..." Lisha rolled her eyes and Emma continued, "Then what was unsuitable about her?" "Well, she was a little bit too... a little too heavy for the part." "She had a weight problem?" "Well, yeah, I guess..." "A little weight problem? Ten, fifteen pounds?" "Well, no... more than that, but..." "Mr. Collins, please cooperate." "Okay, okay! She was fat! She was a total blimp, and while she didn't seem to notice or care -- wearing those skin-tight outfits and halter tops with blubber bulging out everywhere, and every seam about to burst -- everyone else noticed. And I couldn't put her onstage in a role where she's supposed to play the hottest, sexiest woman in the entire town; no one would've believed it! I don't even think I could've gotten costumes big enough for her!" Lisha had to move away from the phone, because she was about to let out a loud sputtering laugh.

Emma, meanwhile bit her lip to keep from cracking up and continued. "How fat would you say she was?" "I don't know! I don't know these things." "Two hundred pounds? Two-fifty? Three hundred?" "Yeah, maybe. Three hundred, four hundred, who knows! She was huge, that's all I know. And it turns out I did her a favor -- motivated her, I guess. Shocked her or something. Because that summer she started losing weight and the next thing you know -- boom! Everyone's ga-ga for her and she's a megastar! So I helped her. I always try to help." "I'm sure you do. You're helping us, right now. I've got just a couple more questions, and I know it's been almost ten years, but, please try to remember. Did Lisha have any close friends?" "Yeah," he said. "Yeah. Give me a minute and I'll come up with her name. It was something like... Emma! Emma Bennett! That's it! Inseparable, the two of them. And she was another huge one. If the two of them were walking down the hall together, no one else could get by. And she -- Emma -- was on my field hockey team for ninth and tenth grade. But finally, I had to give her the boot -- she wasn't a bad player, or anything, and she moved pretty well for her size, but... it came down to uniforms. They just didn't make girl's field hockey uniforms with a 40-inch waist! I don't know what happened to her after high school. Y'know these kids... they don't keep in touch with the people who helped them get where they are." Emma was biting her lip so hard that Lisha thought she was going to chomp through it; instead, she wound up the conversation, hung up the phone, and let it all out.

"Can you believe that line about how he tried to help! And how we never call! What an ass!" Lisha said, "We should really snake him: call the company and cancel the order!" Emma smiled, and said, "No, that's the best part of it: I ordered him fifty field hockey uniforms with XXL blouses and 48-inch waist skirts! I hope he doesn't open them before he goes to pass them out in September!" They continued laughing for a while, going over bits of the conversation which served to confirm the opinion they'd held of him for all these years, then returning to the computer room to plug in some of the quotes -- especially the ones where they'd corroborated the photo and estimated her weight at between three- and four-hundred pounds!

"Okay," Emma said after they'd finished typing, "now what's the next step?" "Well," she said, running her fingers through her friend's silken red hair, "I figure, maybe we can go upstairs to the bedroom, hang out a little bit, and... y'know..." "You've got a one-track mind, girl. And I think you're arriving at the station a little too early!" "I have a two-track mind," Lisha replied, "because my second suggestion was going to be that it's almost seven o'clock and I always eat dinner at around seven o'clock. Of course, if you've had your fill already and can't eat anymore..." "Fat chance, fatso! I can still eat you under the table!" "Oooh, that would be nice," Lisha said. "Feel free to go ahead anytime you'd like. And -- I'll tell you a secret: I'm not wearing any panties!" Emma laughed and gave Lisha's butt a solid smack, but before she could give the other cheek a fair shot, Lisha was running into the kitchen, with Emma following closely.

When they got to the kitchen, the two of them leaned against the wall, holding their swollen bellies and breathing heavily. "Running is bad," Lisha said. "Yes, very bad!" Emma agreed, then continued. "We shouldn't have to move at all. We should hire someone to come in here and fetch us our food and feed it to us while we just laze around on the deck." "We'd need two people," Lisha said. "One to cut our food and keep our mouths and our plates full, and the other one to cook and shop and go to the restaurants." "Actually, it'd have to be three people: one to cook, one to keep stuffing our fat bellies, and the third to massage us all over with oils and lotions and tell us how beautiful we are and how fat we are."

"Mmmmmm... sounds great! I'll put an ad in the paper tomorrow: Staff needed to keep two fat girls full and happy. Round the clock. Room and board included. No skinny people need apply!" "How much should we pay them?" Emma asked. "Pay them? Are you kidding me? I bet we can get someone to pay us!" "Yeah! We could have like a working resort, where the guests pay to come to our house and fatten us up on whatever foods and whatever quantities they can imagine." "Pretty soon, we'd be so fat we'd need our own island." "And after that, we'd need two islands, then a couple of continents." "Eventually, everyone in the world will just be begging to feed us, to put one tiny little morsel of food in our mouths." "Then, we'll keep getting fatter and we'll outgrow the earth, and the solar system and the galaxy; there'll be no room for anything else in the whole universe other than me and you and all of our infinite blubber." "And then, we'll still be hungry and the two of us will eat the last two wafer-thin bits of matter in the universe that aren't already inside our bellies; with that, our mass will have become so great that we'll collapse in on ourselves, then explode in a Big Bang, and we'll get to start getting fat all over again!"

"I think we're twisted, girl," Emma said. "Speak for yourself! I'm not twisted, but I am kinda hungry -- believe it or not! Only -- I'm not really in the mood for any more of this fast food. Maybe we can save the rest of it for a midnight snack." "That's cool, but what are we going to do for dinner? We can't go out 'cause you don't want to be seen. So, it's either order in, or cook." "Cooking's fun! Any ideas?" Lisha started looking through the cabinets, while Emma popped her head into the freezer, coming up for air a few minutes later with a "Eureka! Stephen goes to the Cost Club, so we've got some industrial-sized ingredients here. Check it out: eight pounds of veal patties, five pounds of mozzarella -- there must be some ten-gallon jug of tomato sauce in one of those cabinets, so... Veal Parmigiana it is!" It didn't take long to assemble the ingredients into three lasagne pans, and within a half-hour, the timer was counting down the forty minutes until it was ready.

If you've got any comments or criticisms, you can post them on the WeightBoard or e-mail me at: melaniebel@aol.com.

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