~BBW/!BHM, Dining, Romance, Sex, ~SWG – a woman successful in business finds a man who knows the way to her heart
Chapter One
As Lauren Tynes stood in front of the painting by Rubens, she was again surprised, as she always seemed to be, by how the shapes of the women seemed to stir something deep within her soul: their full bellies and hips, the full faces and bosom -- they seemed alive with the lusciousness of curves. It was a feeling that she shared – but only here.
Although the art museum was due to close within twenty minutes, she felt transfixed by this particular work and had her face as close as the museum security would allow, scrutinizing all of the brushstrokes that made up this scene of fecund plumpness. It made her think back to all the barely submerged longings she had felt as a young woman, when some of her college friends started to take on a plumpness so different from her own thin frame.
She felt a type of jealousy, although she was never able to accept just why she felt that way; and now, as a middle-aged and still lovely blond-haired lady with striking azure-blue eyes, she wanted to understand what it was that had stirred all of those not-quite-forgotten feelings.
She’d tended towards plumpness herself, but had exercised discipline based o what she knew were the expectations of her peers. It wasn’t the only sacrifice she’d made in pursuing a career – she’d not taken time for men and love either, so many were just so shallow and seemingly focused on two things: being serviced in the bedroom and kitchen. But she would look at paintings such as this and fantasize about another time and another culture, a world of which she would not have minded being a part.
"It IS a lovely work, isn't it?" The voice from just behind her startled Lauren, and she turned to see a dark-haired gentleman -- she guessed him to be roughly her own age -- admiring the painting from several feet behind her, his arms behind his back, an infectious smile on his broad, pleasant face.
She noticed first that he had a slightly rumpled, academic look about him; but then she saw he was wearing an expensive sports watch, the kind not usually worn by professors who rarely see the sunlight and do not engaged in anything more active than shuffling through the papers of their students.
"I think it is one of his best ... Rubens, that is ..." He smiled that broad smile once again.
Lauren then noticed how his gentle eyes had the same deep-blue quality of hers; and his hair was a rusty, auburn color, thinning on top but with that tousled look of one who just came in out of the wind. He was somewhat chunky, but not fat; and although there appeared to be the start of a fairly decent paunch around his waist, his arms, chest and face seemed incongruously athletic, his legs revealed as two thick, muscular limbs by the khaki shorts he wore, a bit below his budding belly.
"Oh, I'm sorry ... let me introduce myself: I'm Kyle Winters," he told her,
as extended his hand in greeting,
"I work nearby, at the Janek Marine Science Institute, but when I get off early, I like to come here and admire all of my favorite paintings. I minored in art at school, so I have to have my 'art fix' as often as I can get it."
He chuckled at how he perceived himself to be a study in contrasts, and Lauren came to the same conclusion as she studied him through her wire-frame glasses. He had a confident and friendly manner, combined with a gentleness that struck an immediate chord with her. As they finished shaking hands, she told him about herself.
"I'm Lauren Tynes -- I work over at the offices of Parker & Barrett. I'm
an architectural consultant. I like to try and spend as much time here as
I can. However, I usually come on Saturdays -- today I'm sort of 'playing
hooky' after leaving a meeting."
Kyle laughed at her revelation, and then shook his head in a playful manner, as though her behavior was wanton and irresponsible. He noticed that she had beautiful skin, and her hair fell to her shoulders in a mane-like thickness. She was wearing an attractive and formal business outfit: a dark blue coat and skirt, with a white blouse accented with understated gold jewelry.
Kyle noticed that, although fairly thin, she had a nice figure and long legs. He also noticed they were the same height, as he was able to look directly into those blue, blue eyes.
"So, are you a fan of Rubens?" he asked, turning his attention -- and
hers -- back to the painting. "I've always loved his paintings, and this one
has always been my favorite: look at the joy and life-spirit in the faces of
these women."
Lauren studied those faces once again, and indeed ... there was a marvelously rapturous look about them, so confident in the loveliness of their thick, plump bodies; and as she stared at those full, rounded bellies, she found herself absentmindedly placing her folded hands over her flat, firm stomach, as though to compare her figure to theirs ... and once again, her secret longing came to call.
"Yes, I love many of the works here," Lauren returned, "But I think there is something special about his paintings that draws me to them – perhaps it's because they DO seem so full of life, as well as the implication of good food and cooking -- just look at those figures!"
As Lauren replied, she realized Kyle's response would speak volumes about his thoughts on feminine beauty. She half-expected comments about how the women looked perhaps too over-ripe or too plump; in fact, this common male response might have been anticipated had it not been for the fact that he was obviously drawn to the women in this painting.
Lauren was not totally surprised when his face lit up and he pointed at one woman who looked very heavy by the standards of traditional 20th Century society.
"Oh yes, that is what's so great! Yes, you can almost imagine these women preparing wonderful meals and getting plump on their own cooking ... and with the sense that it is all part of the gusto of living. Of course, beauty comes in many different sizes, but there is a most delightful look to these women. It's too bad that, as a society, we've turned away from the appreciations of this type of womanly figure."
He was still looking at the Rubens painting when a soft frown stole across his face, as though in disappointment for majority thought on weight issues; but then, as the bright sun might come bursting out from behind a cloud, his face suddenly brightened as he looked back at Lauren.
"You know, it has always fallen on the women to be the great cooks and nurturers of life ... maybe that's why I've felt an obligation to learn some culinary skills of my own. Women have become so used to cooking for men -- and it CAN be hard work -- that I actually enjoy cooking for anyone who can enjoy the 'gusto' of good, well-prepared food."
Lauren seemed quite surprised by this admission -- although not exactly sure why -- and asked him about his prowess in this field.
"Do you cook?" She found herself wanting so much for the answer to be in the affirmative -- but once again, was not sure of the reason.
"Yes, I do ... in fact, I'm a very, very good cook, if I do say so myself. I've even attended several gourmet cooking classes, and I've been at this for ... oh, ever since I was in school. Only recently have I been able to find the time to do my gourmet cooking on a regular basis, but I've been enjoying myself, and it probably shows!"
He grabbed onto his budding paunch to show the results of his recent culinary endeavors, and he laughed, then said: "I wish I could share some of these delicious recipes with someone who had the same appreciation of good food. There used to be a cooking club nearby -- I belonged to it for several years, but then it disbanded. “
Lauren’s interest was piqued – a guy who enjoyed cooking enough to join a club?
“So what do you do now?” she responded/
“Now I have to try these recipes out by myself, but its not as enjoyable”
Then he took a chance – he’d tried it before and been rejected, but somehow this art lover seemed more approachable and trusting.
”Say, would you like to join me sometime for a nice, gourmet, home-cooked meal? I would LOVE to show you how I've learned to prepare great meals ... and we could have some nice wine afterwards and I could show you some of my art history books. What do you think? Would you like to come and visit me sometime soon and enjoy a good, well-prepared meal?"
Coming from another man, it might have seemed like a blatant attempt at
trying to bed a good-looking woman; but somehow, Lauren could look at
this smiling, affable, genuine soul and tell he wanted to, more than anything, please someone with a lovingly prepared meal cooked with deft and kindness.
As he looked at her, a quizzical smile on his lips, waiting for her answer, she felt the answer erupting from within her: "Yes, Kyle -- I think I would love that too."
“Tuesday evening perhaps? Around 7.”
“Well, yes – it sounds fine.”
He gave her his business card, inscribing his home address and phone number on the back side, and requested her number at work. She gave it to him and they walked out of the museum in response to the closing chimes.
Kyle took Lauren to her car and bade her a safe trip home. Then he went to his own, knowing that he would call to confirm their date, hoping that she would not change her mind.
Lauren went home where her crockpot was simmering on low with the swiss steak and vegetables she’d left that morning. She ladled a portion into a storage container to cool and be placed in the refrigerator for the next day. The balance she placed on a plate with some herbal tea, as was her habit.
“That’s maybe what’s wrong with my life,” she mused as she thought about Kyle. “So routine, so habitual. Maybe its time for a bit of risk.” She had no debts but no family – an only child, born late in life, both her parents were gone. Her own work plus a small inheritance had left her successful but , no debts.
The next day Lauren checked out Kyle through sources. He owned his own place as well, had a secure job, no police record. An Internet reference did show him as having won a culinary contest the year before. It settled any butterflies she might have had. At least he wasn’t an axe murderer – he might, she silently hoped, even be exactly who he said and appeared to be.
A Taste For Rubens
by Big Chris
(A reformatted and slightly augmented version of a 1998 classic)
by Big Chris
(A reformatted and slightly augmented version of a 1998 classic)
Chapter One
As Lauren Tynes stood in front of the painting by Rubens, she was again surprised, as she always seemed to be, by how the shapes of the women seemed to stir something deep within her soul: their full bellies and hips, the full faces and bosom -- they seemed alive with the lusciousness of curves. It was a feeling that she shared – but only here.
Although the art museum was due to close within twenty minutes, she felt transfixed by this particular work and had her face as close as the museum security would allow, scrutinizing all of the brushstrokes that made up this scene of fecund plumpness. It made her think back to all the barely submerged longings she had felt as a young woman, when some of her college friends started to take on a plumpness so different from her own thin frame.
She felt a type of jealousy, although she was never able to accept just why she felt that way; and now, as a middle-aged and still lovely blond-haired lady with striking azure-blue eyes, she wanted to understand what it was that had stirred all of those not-quite-forgotten feelings.
She’d tended towards plumpness herself, but had exercised discipline based o what she knew were the expectations of her peers. It wasn’t the only sacrifice she’d made in pursuing a career – she’d not taken time for men and love either, so many were just so shallow and seemingly focused on two things: being serviced in the bedroom and kitchen. But she would look at paintings such as this and fantasize about another time and another culture, a world of which she would not have minded being a part.
"It IS a lovely work, isn't it?" The voice from just behind her startled Lauren, and she turned to see a dark-haired gentleman -- she guessed him to be roughly her own age -- admiring the painting from several feet behind her, his arms behind his back, an infectious smile on his broad, pleasant face.
She noticed first that he had a slightly rumpled, academic look about him; but then she saw he was wearing an expensive sports watch, the kind not usually worn by professors who rarely see the sunlight and do not engaged in anything more active than shuffling through the papers of their students.
"I think it is one of his best ... Rubens, that is ..." He smiled that broad smile once again.
Lauren then noticed how his gentle eyes had the same deep-blue quality of hers; and his hair was a rusty, auburn color, thinning on top but with that tousled look of one who just came in out of the wind. He was somewhat chunky, but not fat; and although there appeared to be the start of a fairly decent paunch around his waist, his arms, chest and face seemed incongruously athletic, his legs revealed as two thick, muscular limbs by the khaki shorts he wore, a bit below his budding belly.
"Oh, I'm sorry ... let me introduce myself: I'm Kyle Winters," he told her,
as extended his hand in greeting,
"I work nearby, at the Janek Marine Science Institute, but when I get off early, I like to come here and admire all of my favorite paintings. I minored in art at school, so I have to have my 'art fix' as often as I can get it."
He chuckled at how he perceived himself to be a study in contrasts, and Lauren came to the same conclusion as she studied him through her wire-frame glasses. He had a confident and friendly manner, combined with a gentleness that struck an immediate chord with her. As they finished shaking hands, she told him about herself.
"I'm Lauren Tynes -- I work over at the offices of Parker & Barrett. I'm
an architectural consultant. I like to try and spend as much time here as
I can. However, I usually come on Saturdays -- today I'm sort of 'playing
hooky' after leaving a meeting."
Kyle laughed at her revelation, and then shook his head in a playful manner, as though her behavior was wanton and irresponsible. He noticed that she had beautiful skin, and her hair fell to her shoulders in a mane-like thickness. She was wearing an attractive and formal business outfit: a dark blue coat and skirt, with a white blouse accented with understated gold jewelry.
Kyle noticed that, although fairly thin, she had a nice figure and long legs. He also noticed they were the same height, as he was able to look directly into those blue, blue eyes.
"So, are you a fan of Rubens?" he asked, turning his attention -- and
hers -- back to the painting. "I've always loved his paintings, and this one
has always been my favorite: look at the joy and life-spirit in the faces of
these women."
Lauren studied those faces once again, and indeed ... there was a marvelously rapturous look about them, so confident in the loveliness of their thick, plump bodies; and as she stared at those full, rounded bellies, she found herself absentmindedly placing her folded hands over her flat, firm stomach, as though to compare her figure to theirs ... and once again, her secret longing came to call.
"Yes, I love many of the works here," Lauren returned, "But I think there is something special about his paintings that draws me to them – perhaps it's because they DO seem so full of life, as well as the implication of good food and cooking -- just look at those figures!"
As Lauren replied, she realized Kyle's response would speak volumes about his thoughts on feminine beauty. She half-expected comments about how the women looked perhaps too over-ripe or too plump; in fact, this common male response might have been anticipated had it not been for the fact that he was obviously drawn to the women in this painting.
Lauren was not totally surprised when his face lit up and he pointed at one woman who looked very heavy by the standards of traditional 20th Century society.
"Oh yes, that is what's so great! Yes, you can almost imagine these women preparing wonderful meals and getting plump on their own cooking ... and with the sense that it is all part of the gusto of living. Of course, beauty comes in many different sizes, but there is a most delightful look to these women. It's too bad that, as a society, we've turned away from the appreciations of this type of womanly figure."
He was still looking at the Rubens painting when a soft frown stole across his face, as though in disappointment for majority thought on weight issues; but then, as the bright sun might come bursting out from behind a cloud, his face suddenly brightened as he looked back at Lauren.
"You know, it has always fallen on the women to be the great cooks and nurturers of life ... maybe that's why I've felt an obligation to learn some culinary skills of my own. Women have become so used to cooking for men -- and it CAN be hard work -- that I actually enjoy cooking for anyone who can enjoy the 'gusto' of good, well-prepared food."
Lauren seemed quite surprised by this admission -- although not exactly sure why -- and asked him about his prowess in this field.
"Do you cook?" She found herself wanting so much for the answer to be in the affirmative -- but once again, was not sure of the reason.
"Yes, I do ... in fact, I'm a very, very good cook, if I do say so myself. I've even attended several gourmet cooking classes, and I've been at this for ... oh, ever since I was in school. Only recently have I been able to find the time to do my gourmet cooking on a regular basis, but I've been enjoying myself, and it probably shows!"
He grabbed onto his budding paunch to show the results of his recent culinary endeavors, and he laughed, then said: "I wish I could share some of these delicious recipes with someone who had the same appreciation of good food. There used to be a cooking club nearby -- I belonged to it for several years, but then it disbanded. “
Lauren’s interest was piqued – a guy who enjoyed cooking enough to join a club?
“So what do you do now?” she responded/
“Now I have to try these recipes out by myself, but its not as enjoyable”
Then he took a chance – he’d tried it before and been rejected, but somehow this art lover seemed more approachable and trusting.
”Say, would you like to join me sometime for a nice, gourmet, home-cooked meal? I would LOVE to show you how I've learned to prepare great meals ... and we could have some nice wine afterwards and I could show you some of my art history books. What do you think? Would you like to come and visit me sometime soon and enjoy a good, well-prepared meal?"
Coming from another man, it might have seemed like a blatant attempt at
trying to bed a good-looking woman; but somehow, Lauren could look at
this smiling, affable, genuine soul and tell he wanted to, more than anything, please someone with a lovingly prepared meal cooked with deft and kindness.
As he looked at her, a quizzical smile on his lips, waiting for her answer, she felt the answer erupting from within her: "Yes, Kyle -- I think I would love that too."
“Tuesday evening perhaps? Around 7.”
“Well, yes – it sounds fine.”
He gave her his business card, inscribing his home address and phone number on the back side, and requested her number at work. She gave it to him and they walked out of the museum in response to the closing chimes.
Kyle took Lauren to her car and bade her a safe trip home. Then he went to his own, knowing that he would call to confirm their date, hoping that she would not change her mind.
Lauren went home where her crockpot was simmering on low with the swiss steak and vegetables she’d left that morning. She ladled a portion into a storage container to cool and be placed in the refrigerator for the next day. The balance she placed on a plate with some herbal tea, as was her habit.
“That’s maybe what’s wrong with my life,” she mused as she thought about Kyle. “So routine, so habitual. Maybe its time for a bit of risk.” She had no debts but no family – an only child, born late in life, both her parents were gone. Her own work plus a small inheritance had left her successful but , no debts.
The next day Lauren checked out Kyle through sources. He owned his own place as well, had a secure job, no police record. An Internet reference did show him as having won a culinary contest the year before. It settled any butterflies she might have had. At least he wasn’t an axe murderer – he might, she silently hoped, even be exactly who he said and appeared to be.
