~BBW, Romance, ~MWG - A man's patience with a blossoming girl friend with unrealistic expectations bears fruit.
Author's note: "One from the heart..."
There are leaders and followers. Always have been, always will be. From the time our ancestors crawled out from the primordial ooze there have always been those born to take control and those with the need for a leader. Just as elephants have a matriarch and pack animals have their alpha, human kind, while subtler, follows those same instincts.
So it was with Heather and Linda. Linda was the wild one, always living on the edge, pressing the boundaries, and trying new things. She would do something outrageous just to watch the wheels turn and catch other peoples' reactions. Heather thought that this made Linda ultra cool, so much so that she worshiped Linda as her messiah. The gospel according to Linda. Wherever Linda led, Heather followed, either actively involved in Linda's games or miming her every move and affectation.
Through Linda, Heather became hip and respected by that counter culture element at school and I, by nature of being Heather's' boy toy, noticed my "coolness factor" rise as well. It was as if we had been anointed Linda's apostles, drinking that sanctified wine and dining of Linda's unleavened bread. Gee, maybe someday I'll get to write a book. Funny how high school so mirrors that pack mentality. Funny that I didn't care, wanting only to love and be loved by Heather.
You see, I knew that there was another side to Heather than the one that followed Linda's antics. I knew that Heather had a deep desire to be loved and admired. She had self doubt issues that could only be assuaged by some acceptance on a large group level. This is what she sought, and this is what her allegiance with Linda gave her. Even if the two of them were thumbing their noses at the establishment, it was that same body whose acceptance Heather so craved. I knew that deep down Heather wanted the American dream; large house, car, loving husband, family - the very picture of Rockwellian ideology - all things that Linda could care less about in her constant search for new input, and new sensations. So Heather was conflicted between who she really was and the teachings of her messiah. Only she didn't know it.
I sat back and watched the arc of Linda and Heather's' relationship. Watched Linda's fangs sink deeper and deeper into Heather's' psyche, helpless to do anything about it, for to question the messiah was sure to be met with skepticism tantamount to blasphemy. I knew that Linda was going to keep stretching the boundaries, as she easily became bored with the status quo, and was therefore always on the watch for new and more bizarre experiences.
It was about half way through our senior year that Linda came up with the Lesbo Kissy Face game; using Heather as her foil. At every opportunity the pair pretended that they were lovers, displaying their ardor for each other in more and more common Public Displays of Affection (PDA's). In other words, they played kissy face with each other; laughing all the while at the reactions they received. Oh yes, this was a novel and exciting game. Wasn't the shock value grand when some prudish underclassman would stand gawking as the two necked in some hallway. And wasn't it the ultimate to perform a lesbo artsy dance at the school variety show, doing mirrored moves to Jeff Beck's version of Stevie Wonders Because We Ended As Lovers. Of course that was an inside joke, for we were all sure that the uninitiated weren't able to pick up on the connection and just though it was some art form that they didn't understand. It was one of Linda's greatest triumphs, pulled on this sleepy suburban burg.
After graduation I thought that the whole routine would die down, but Linda, always pushing, had other ideas. She realized that there was a market out there for kissy facing young girls, so persuaded Heather to accompany her to the big city where they instantly found work "dancing" at a New York style club/theatre. The pay was reasonable, the work was easy, and it was all a great adventure. Heather seemed enthralled by this view of a completely different way of life; somehow not seeing the seediness of it, but only the fast paced glitter that caught her eye like a frayed Persian carpet covering a badly stained floor. This was not a job or a way of life for them, just a lark that they could back away from whenever they wanted. How do you spell naive?
I should probably digress here and clear up a misconception that I'm sure you're having. You probably think that Linda and Heather were some fantastic babes, Playboy centerfold material, or swimsuit models. Wrong. While certainly not being ugly, neither possessed that perfect, centerfold body. Linda was thin and lithe, a blond waif who, if it wasn't for her charisma and animal magnetism, would go totally unnoticed in a crowd. Five foot five and tomboyish in her appearance. Thin hipped and small breasted. Hardly a femme fetale, except for her willingness to do just about anything.
Heather was just about as average as average can be. Lovely blond hair, like spun golden silk, a wide, open face with full pink lips; not cover girl quality, but not ugly either. Likewise her body was average. Almost five five, but blockier than Linda by far. Not chubby, just a thicker body type. 36-26-36, long waisted, short and thick legged. Wholesome, but again, not knockout material. I'm pointing this out because, at first, I too suffered from the misconception that all these erotic dancers were babes. I found out otherwise when I went to the club to visit one night; just to see what this different world was like.
The club had several rooms, culminating in one large one with movie theatre style chairs on either side of a raised ramp that the girls used as their stage. As I watched the girls, for girls is what they were, not women, just girls; I noticed that none of them had that Playboy perfection. Sure, I know that they airbrush out a lot of stuff, but it seemed to me that all of the girls had at least one major body flaw; be it a big nose, saggy breasts, dimpled butt, whatever. Some were dangerously thin, while still possessing little potbellies. Some had large melon breasts but a thick waist and tummy roll to match. OK, I decided, just girls making a living, trying to convince themselves that they are more than what they are.
When Linda was off stage she came down and faked a little lap dance with me, which of course encouraged some of the other girls to offer me their services. I politely declined, pointing out that Heather was my girlfriend, while inwardly shuddering at the prospect of paying these "just normal" girls for sitting on my lap and grinding their buttocks into my groin.
Of course this was nothing compared to the special room where Heather and Linda performed their kissy face duet to the enthusiastic response of their mostly Asian audience. They all sat in a circle in a dimly lit room as the girls acted their parts. I sat off to one side, bemused as the Japanese businessmen's glasses started fogging up. Linda and Heather had the act down pat, and as they did their silly little number they scoped out a likely couple of marks. They then separated and threw their attention at their marks, who were only too eager to throw some extra cash their way in return for a kiss and caress.
These poor schmucks probably thought that it was a display of their manliness that swayed these young girls away from their unnatural pursuits. Deluded saps. It seemed to me that the central theme of the club was all about illusion. The guys all thinking that maybe the girl on his lap actually had some kind of feeling for him, and the girls all thinking that this was only a stop on the way to something better. I started calling the club "The House of Delusion".
So fine. My Heather was now working as a dancer in some glorified form of strip club. I knew that this wasn't really her and that she would soon tire of it and come back to the real world. Oops, was that wrongheaded of me. I should have known that this was just a pit stop on Linda's road to bizarreness, and that, as per usual, Heather would follow, blinded by the light.
During this time Heather and I started drifting apart. Not that we were fighting or anything, just simply that our schedules didn't mesh. I was working days and she nights and weekends, so there wasn't much time for us to be together, let alone see one another. Sure, we were sharing an apartment and a bed, but rarely were the two of us ever in it at the same time. I began to feel more like a part of Heather's support system than the love of her life. Still, I was smitten by her and deluded myself into believing that everything was all peaches and cream.
After several months Linda upped the anti. She noticed how these Asian businessmen liked to throw money around, so she made an arrangement with the club to go partners on private showings. Where these led I didn't want to think about, but could only hope that the two of them knew where to draw the line. It was one thing to be escorted to all these fancy parties, but quite another to being a sexual gymnast for cash, at least in my book.
Heather told me to just relax. This was a great opportunity for her, because these were all men of power and position; translated - they had money! Heather figured that she was going to meet some billionaire and that he would whisk her away to a life of luxury. Linda had no such illusions, but Heather felt that her life was some sort of fairy tale and her white knight was somewhere out there, probably at the very next party.
It was a grand time for awhile. All these high rollers giving little trinkets as gifts, and all the fancy parties where the three C's were always in abundance: Coke, Caviar and Champagne. Money was coming in, which afforded nice clothes and a new convertible. Heather seemed to revel in this new lifestyle, thinking that she was an integral part of this jet setting clique. Heady stuff for this "average" girl, so much so that I began to wonder at it. Was this really where she wanted to be? And was there a place in it for me if it was? I didn't think so, but I was in love, so what was I to do except sit around waiting, wishing that things were different.
It had been months since we'd spent any time together and at this point were even sleeping in separate rooms as she claimed that she didn't want to keep waking me when she came in late. Not that it bothered me: I wish she would have traipsed in late some evening and smothered me with kisses. But I guess that just wasn't in the plans right now.
She seemed to always be away when I got home from work, and, although the door to her room remained closed, I surmised that there were several evenings that her bed remained empty. Finally, one night I arrived home from work to find Heather sitting cross-legged on the couch watching the tube, a big bowl of tapioca in her lap. I watched her as she absently sent spoonful after spoonful into her mouth, absorbed in whatever mindless trash she was watching. I was taken back to see her there. Surprised and excited. Maybe she wasn't going out tonight and we could spend the night talking. Poor wretch that I was, I even held out hope that she would shower me with affection and lead me off to bed. Fat chance.
"Hey Kid," I announced myself from the hallway. "What are you doing here?"
She turned and flushed, "Oh Pat, I didn't hear you come in. Yeah, I was feeling kinda tired so I took tonight off."
'Oh great' I thought, 'she's going to be home tonight! But wait a minute, hold your horses. She said she was tired. So much for a romantic evening.'
Still, I was happy just to see her.
"Well, since you're home, how 'bout I cook you a nice meal?" I queried.
Heather looked down at the empty tapioca bowl, "Oh, you're so sweet. Would you do that for me?"
"Of course silly, just give me about forty five minutes and your meal will be served".
"Oh boy, Chef Boy-r-Dee" she giggled, placing the empty bowl on the end table, her silk kimono sliding with the motion.
"Madame, I assure you, I have had the honor of cooking at some of the finest Denny's this side of New Mexico" I replied haughtily, bowing to pick up the bowl on my way to the kitchen.
I noticed that in the shifting of her Kimono, Heather's left breast had become partially exposed and sap that I am, I couldn't help but stare at it. Geez, I hope she didn't notice me gawking like that. As I began cutting and chopping the ingredients of my casserole my mind slipped back to her kimono. I flashed that her breasts, while always adequate, now seemed somehow more ample. In my mind's eye I could see her sitting there, the lavender kimono just so and - was that a bit of a tummy there below her bosom? Naw, just your imagination. Still, my mind starting wandering. What if? What did it mean? Was she unhappy, or run down, or just not paying attention?
I put the casserole into the oven and returned to the living room, bringing Heather a glass of Pinot Gris. We chatted until the buzzer announced that dinner was ready, Heather regaling me with tales of Linda and her adventures. This party, that party, this rich guy, this guy who was a friend of a friend of some movie producer. Whatever. I wasn't really paying attention to the details as my mind was focused on the fact that her middle did indeed seem thicker. Hard to tell with her in her kimono, but it looked like Heather had put on about ten pounds over the months gone by. I was fascinated. What was this all about?
I reentered the kitchen, passing Heather who graced me with a smile. I returned a short time later with an ample helping of a still steaming casserole of macaroni, roma tomatoes, garlic, cheddar cheese and hot kilbassa. Heather accepted the plate graciously and placed the plate on her lap. She waited a moment for the meal to cool and then dug in with gusto.
"Hmm, this is so good. Pat, you're really too good to me, you know that" she purred.
"Nothing's to good for you kid" I replied lamely. Sheesh, way to go. Talking like some "B" movie dialogue.
We continued to catch up, in between bites of our meal. Wow! Heather must have really been hungry. Just look how she cleaned her plate. I asked her if she wanted a tiny bit more. She passed me her plate and told me it was too good to turn down.
When I returned with seconds, she told me that a producer that Linda had met was interested in using her in a porno film, telling Linda that he though she had real potential in the business. We both laughed. Linda's potential was unlimited, anyone could see that.
"What do you think of Linda doing Porno?" Heather asked.
"Why not?" I replied. "She seems a natural for it. Just another new experience for her. No big deal, you know."
"Yeah, I guess so" Heather replied and then got quiet for a moment, as if she were weighing something in her mind.
Then she brightened. "Hey, I know it's a bit early for your birthday, but want to go see Depeche Mode with me? I know a guy that can get us good seats."
"Sure, you don't have to ask twice. I'd love to!" I gushed, excited at the proposition of spending a night out with Heather all to myself.
"Cool" she nodded, scouring her plate with her fork. "Two weeks from Saturday, I'll set it up. It's a date!"
We chatted awhile longer, and then I rose to take her plate to the dishwasher. When I returned Heather was on her feet, stretching, and stifling a yawn. I moved towards her and took her in my arms. Hmm, she felt softer somehow. As I pressed her against me I could feel the softness of her belly. She kissed me lightly on the cheek, backed away and yawning again said, "Thanks again for dinner. You're really such a dear, but I gotta get me some sleep".
She slid down the hallway and then turned left, into her bedroom. So much for my romantic evening. At least I'd be going to see a show with her in two weeks. I could hardly wait.
**********
The magical Saturday finally arrived. Heather called from her cell phone saying that she was running a little late, but not to worry. She burst through the door shortly after six wearing a pair of black stretch stirrup pants, a beige leotard with lace trim and a turquoise silk wrap.
"Hey you, ready to ride?" she questioned as she gave me a quick hug. "I like your leathers, you look yummy."
"You too kid" I replied as I grabbed my jacket, put my arm around her waist and ushered her out the door.
Truth be told I was somewhat taken aback, for this was the first time I'd seen Heather in anything but her kimono in over four months, and in that time it was obvious that I'd misjudged and she'd gained a good fifteen pounds. Her rear and hips sure filled out her stretch pants and the elastic band at the top bit into her tummy, forming a little roll and pooching out her lower abdomen. Wow, I thought. She's getting a bit chunky. Still, the added girth on her chest looked fantastic. She leaned in close to me as I drove, still quite aware of her softness. All I couldthink of was how beautiful she was and how I loved her.
The concert was good but loud and we had a wonderful time, enjoying being there and being together. It seemed like old times for us. We kissed and snuggled between songs just like when we first met. On the way home, as Heather rested her head on my shoulder, she told me that Linda's film started shooting on Monday and she was looking forward to being there to check it all out. She wanted to know if I could take the day off and go with her, but I told her we were really swamped and I couldn't afford to miss the time, even though it sounded like fun.
We arrived back at the apartment and after we entered Heather gave me a big hug and then backed away to arms length.
"So, have a good time tonight?" she purred.
"Yeah, I really did. Thanks for the early present."
She got a gleam in her eye and a mischievous look. She reached out and kissed me, her tongue searching for my own as I felt her fingers probing for the button on my leather pants. I heard an audible snap and then the sound of a zipper running down its track. Heather coyly caressed my lips with her tongue as her hand reached down into my pants.
"Hmm" she said as she dropped to her knees. "I think I'll give the birthday boy a little something extra."
I caressed her long wavy hair and then, moving to my knees, kissed her passionately, put her hands in mine and drew her up to a standing position.
"If you really want to give me a present" I murmured, voice thick with emotion, "I've got a better idea."
I swung her into my arms. Oof, she was heavy; and carried her to my bed, my legs nearly buckling under the weight.
We made slow, passionate love until, unable to contain ourselves any longer, we evolved into a fiery fit of friction, grinding frantically as the heat from our love consumed us. Out of control, screaming, clawing, clutching, wanting only to melt deeper and deeper into one another, we finally erupted. Totally spent, Heather collapsed on top of me and I felt her full weight yet again. I ran my fingers over her back, feeling the incredible softness of her warm skin. My fingers gently traced the boundaries of her burgeoning love handles and then sank into the pliant pillow of her buttocks as I listened to the steady rhythm of her breathing.
My heart ached for her. I wanted to hold her close like this every night, not caring the slightest about her excess baggage. Love was what was important in life and I knew that I would always love her and in doing so offer her a life that was good. I told myself that I had to be patient, for eventually Heather would see that the love I was offering was more precious than the trinkets she was getting, and that the security of my affection far outweighed the remote possibility of finding some millionaire who would share his love and his fortune. Just wait. Wait and trust that my love will reach down into that part of Heather that I knew was still there. The part that could see and appreciate my love for what it was: an offering of my soul.
Sadly, that was the last night that I would see her for over a month. Each day seemed like a year spent apart. I started leaving little notes to her, telling her how much I missed her. While she replied in kind, her notes still held a sense of ambiguity that I just couldn't reconcile.
Author's note: "One from the heart..."
CANTICLE FOR HEATHER
By Maxout
By Maxout
There are leaders and followers. Always have been, always will be. From the time our ancestors crawled out from the primordial ooze there have always been those born to take control and those with the need for a leader. Just as elephants have a matriarch and pack animals have their alpha, human kind, while subtler, follows those same instincts.
So it was with Heather and Linda. Linda was the wild one, always living on the edge, pressing the boundaries, and trying new things. She would do something outrageous just to watch the wheels turn and catch other peoples' reactions. Heather thought that this made Linda ultra cool, so much so that she worshiped Linda as her messiah. The gospel according to Linda. Wherever Linda led, Heather followed, either actively involved in Linda's games or miming her every move and affectation.
Through Linda, Heather became hip and respected by that counter culture element at school and I, by nature of being Heather's' boy toy, noticed my "coolness factor" rise as well. It was as if we had been anointed Linda's apostles, drinking that sanctified wine and dining of Linda's unleavened bread. Gee, maybe someday I'll get to write a book. Funny how high school so mirrors that pack mentality. Funny that I didn't care, wanting only to love and be loved by Heather.
You see, I knew that there was another side to Heather than the one that followed Linda's antics. I knew that Heather had a deep desire to be loved and admired. She had self doubt issues that could only be assuaged by some acceptance on a large group level. This is what she sought, and this is what her allegiance with Linda gave her. Even if the two of them were thumbing their noses at the establishment, it was that same body whose acceptance Heather so craved. I knew that deep down Heather wanted the American dream; large house, car, loving husband, family - the very picture of Rockwellian ideology - all things that Linda could care less about in her constant search for new input, and new sensations. So Heather was conflicted between who she really was and the teachings of her messiah. Only she didn't know it.
I sat back and watched the arc of Linda and Heather's' relationship. Watched Linda's fangs sink deeper and deeper into Heather's' psyche, helpless to do anything about it, for to question the messiah was sure to be met with skepticism tantamount to blasphemy. I knew that Linda was going to keep stretching the boundaries, as she easily became bored with the status quo, and was therefore always on the watch for new and more bizarre experiences.
It was about half way through our senior year that Linda came up with the Lesbo Kissy Face game; using Heather as her foil. At every opportunity the pair pretended that they were lovers, displaying their ardor for each other in more and more common Public Displays of Affection (PDA's). In other words, they played kissy face with each other; laughing all the while at the reactions they received. Oh yes, this was a novel and exciting game. Wasn't the shock value grand when some prudish underclassman would stand gawking as the two necked in some hallway. And wasn't it the ultimate to perform a lesbo artsy dance at the school variety show, doing mirrored moves to Jeff Beck's version of Stevie Wonders Because We Ended As Lovers. Of course that was an inside joke, for we were all sure that the uninitiated weren't able to pick up on the connection and just though it was some art form that they didn't understand. It was one of Linda's greatest triumphs, pulled on this sleepy suburban burg.
After graduation I thought that the whole routine would die down, but Linda, always pushing, had other ideas. She realized that there was a market out there for kissy facing young girls, so persuaded Heather to accompany her to the big city where they instantly found work "dancing" at a New York style club/theatre. The pay was reasonable, the work was easy, and it was all a great adventure. Heather seemed enthralled by this view of a completely different way of life; somehow not seeing the seediness of it, but only the fast paced glitter that caught her eye like a frayed Persian carpet covering a badly stained floor. This was not a job or a way of life for them, just a lark that they could back away from whenever they wanted. How do you spell naive?
I should probably digress here and clear up a misconception that I'm sure you're having. You probably think that Linda and Heather were some fantastic babes, Playboy centerfold material, or swimsuit models. Wrong. While certainly not being ugly, neither possessed that perfect, centerfold body. Linda was thin and lithe, a blond waif who, if it wasn't for her charisma and animal magnetism, would go totally unnoticed in a crowd. Five foot five and tomboyish in her appearance. Thin hipped and small breasted. Hardly a femme fetale, except for her willingness to do just about anything.
Heather was just about as average as average can be. Lovely blond hair, like spun golden silk, a wide, open face with full pink lips; not cover girl quality, but not ugly either. Likewise her body was average. Almost five five, but blockier than Linda by far. Not chubby, just a thicker body type. 36-26-36, long waisted, short and thick legged. Wholesome, but again, not knockout material. I'm pointing this out because, at first, I too suffered from the misconception that all these erotic dancers were babes. I found out otherwise when I went to the club to visit one night; just to see what this different world was like.
The club had several rooms, culminating in one large one with movie theatre style chairs on either side of a raised ramp that the girls used as their stage. As I watched the girls, for girls is what they were, not women, just girls; I noticed that none of them had that Playboy perfection. Sure, I know that they airbrush out a lot of stuff, but it seemed to me that all of the girls had at least one major body flaw; be it a big nose, saggy breasts, dimpled butt, whatever. Some were dangerously thin, while still possessing little potbellies. Some had large melon breasts but a thick waist and tummy roll to match. OK, I decided, just girls making a living, trying to convince themselves that they are more than what they are.
When Linda was off stage she came down and faked a little lap dance with me, which of course encouraged some of the other girls to offer me their services. I politely declined, pointing out that Heather was my girlfriend, while inwardly shuddering at the prospect of paying these "just normal" girls for sitting on my lap and grinding their buttocks into my groin.
Of course this was nothing compared to the special room where Heather and Linda performed their kissy face duet to the enthusiastic response of their mostly Asian audience. They all sat in a circle in a dimly lit room as the girls acted their parts. I sat off to one side, bemused as the Japanese businessmen's glasses started fogging up. Linda and Heather had the act down pat, and as they did their silly little number they scoped out a likely couple of marks. They then separated and threw their attention at their marks, who were only too eager to throw some extra cash their way in return for a kiss and caress.
These poor schmucks probably thought that it was a display of their manliness that swayed these young girls away from their unnatural pursuits. Deluded saps. It seemed to me that the central theme of the club was all about illusion. The guys all thinking that maybe the girl on his lap actually had some kind of feeling for him, and the girls all thinking that this was only a stop on the way to something better. I started calling the club "The House of Delusion".
So fine. My Heather was now working as a dancer in some glorified form of strip club. I knew that this wasn't really her and that she would soon tire of it and come back to the real world. Oops, was that wrongheaded of me. I should have known that this was just a pit stop on Linda's road to bizarreness, and that, as per usual, Heather would follow, blinded by the light.
During this time Heather and I started drifting apart. Not that we were fighting or anything, just simply that our schedules didn't mesh. I was working days and she nights and weekends, so there wasn't much time for us to be together, let alone see one another. Sure, we were sharing an apartment and a bed, but rarely were the two of us ever in it at the same time. I began to feel more like a part of Heather's support system than the love of her life. Still, I was smitten by her and deluded myself into believing that everything was all peaches and cream.
After several months Linda upped the anti. She noticed how these Asian businessmen liked to throw money around, so she made an arrangement with the club to go partners on private showings. Where these led I didn't want to think about, but could only hope that the two of them knew where to draw the line. It was one thing to be escorted to all these fancy parties, but quite another to being a sexual gymnast for cash, at least in my book.
Heather told me to just relax. This was a great opportunity for her, because these were all men of power and position; translated - they had money! Heather figured that she was going to meet some billionaire and that he would whisk her away to a life of luxury. Linda had no such illusions, but Heather felt that her life was some sort of fairy tale and her white knight was somewhere out there, probably at the very next party.
It was a grand time for awhile. All these high rollers giving little trinkets as gifts, and all the fancy parties where the three C's were always in abundance: Coke, Caviar and Champagne. Money was coming in, which afforded nice clothes and a new convertible. Heather seemed to revel in this new lifestyle, thinking that she was an integral part of this jet setting clique. Heady stuff for this "average" girl, so much so that I began to wonder at it. Was this really where she wanted to be? And was there a place in it for me if it was? I didn't think so, but I was in love, so what was I to do except sit around waiting, wishing that things were different.
It had been months since we'd spent any time together and at this point were even sleeping in separate rooms as she claimed that she didn't want to keep waking me when she came in late. Not that it bothered me: I wish she would have traipsed in late some evening and smothered me with kisses. But I guess that just wasn't in the plans right now.
She seemed to always be away when I got home from work, and, although the door to her room remained closed, I surmised that there were several evenings that her bed remained empty. Finally, one night I arrived home from work to find Heather sitting cross-legged on the couch watching the tube, a big bowl of tapioca in her lap. I watched her as she absently sent spoonful after spoonful into her mouth, absorbed in whatever mindless trash she was watching. I was taken back to see her there. Surprised and excited. Maybe she wasn't going out tonight and we could spend the night talking. Poor wretch that I was, I even held out hope that she would shower me with affection and lead me off to bed. Fat chance.
"Hey Kid," I announced myself from the hallway. "What are you doing here?"
She turned and flushed, "Oh Pat, I didn't hear you come in. Yeah, I was feeling kinda tired so I took tonight off."
'Oh great' I thought, 'she's going to be home tonight! But wait a minute, hold your horses. She said she was tired. So much for a romantic evening.'
Still, I was happy just to see her.
"Well, since you're home, how 'bout I cook you a nice meal?" I queried.
Heather looked down at the empty tapioca bowl, "Oh, you're so sweet. Would you do that for me?"
"Of course silly, just give me about forty five minutes and your meal will be served".
"Oh boy, Chef Boy-r-Dee" she giggled, placing the empty bowl on the end table, her silk kimono sliding with the motion.
"Madame, I assure you, I have had the honor of cooking at some of the finest Denny's this side of New Mexico" I replied haughtily, bowing to pick up the bowl on my way to the kitchen.
I noticed that in the shifting of her Kimono, Heather's left breast had become partially exposed and sap that I am, I couldn't help but stare at it. Geez, I hope she didn't notice me gawking like that. As I began cutting and chopping the ingredients of my casserole my mind slipped back to her kimono. I flashed that her breasts, while always adequate, now seemed somehow more ample. In my mind's eye I could see her sitting there, the lavender kimono just so and - was that a bit of a tummy there below her bosom? Naw, just your imagination. Still, my mind starting wandering. What if? What did it mean? Was she unhappy, or run down, or just not paying attention?
I put the casserole into the oven and returned to the living room, bringing Heather a glass of Pinot Gris. We chatted until the buzzer announced that dinner was ready, Heather regaling me with tales of Linda and her adventures. This party, that party, this rich guy, this guy who was a friend of a friend of some movie producer. Whatever. I wasn't really paying attention to the details as my mind was focused on the fact that her middle did indeed seem thicker. Hard to tell with her in her kimono, but it looked like Heather had put on about ten pounds over the months gone by. I was fascinated. What was this all about?
I reentered the kitchen, passing Heather who graced me with a smile. I returned a short time later with an ample helping of a still steaming casserole of macaroni, roma tomatoes, garlic, cheddar cheese and hot kilbassa. Heather accepted the plate graciously and placed the plate on her lap. She waited a moment for the meal to cool and then dug in with gusto.
"Hmm, this is so good. Pat, you're really too good to me, you know that" she purred.
"Nothing's to good for you kid" I replied lamely. Sheesh, way to go. Talking like some "B" movie dialogue.
We continued to catch up, in between bites of our meal. Wow! Heather must have really been hungry. Just look how she cleaned her plate. I asked her if she wanted a tiny bit more. She passed me her plate and told me it was too good to turn down.
When I returned with seconds, she told me that a producer that Linda had met was interested in using her in a porno film, telling Linda that he though she had real potential in the business. We both laughed. Linda's potential was unlimited, anyone could see that.
"What do you think of Linda doing Porno?" Heather asked.
"Why not?" I replied. "She seems a natural for it. Just another new experience for her. No big deal, you know."
"Yeah, I guess so" Heather replied and then got quiet for a moment, as if she were weighing something in her mind.
Then she brightened. "Hey, I know it's a bit early for your birthday, but want to go see Depeche Mode with me? I know a guy that can get us good seats."
"Sure, you don't have to ask twice. I'd love to!" I gushed, excited at the proposition of spending a night out with Heather all to myself.
"Cool" she nodded, scouring her plate with her fork. "Two weeks from Saturday, I'll set it up. It's a date!"
We chatted awhile longer, and then I rose to take her plate to the dishwasher. When I returned Heather was on her feet, stretching, and stifling a yawn. I moved towards her and took her in my arms. Hmm, she felt softer somehow. As I pressed her against me I could feel the softness of her belly. She kissed me lightly on the cheek, backed away and yawning again said, "Thanks again for dinner. You're really such a dear, but I gotta get me some sleep".
She slid down the hallway and then turned left, into her bedroom. So much for my romantic evening. At least I'd be going to see a show with her in two weeks. I could hardly wait.
**********
The magical Saturday finally arrived. Heather called from her cell phone saying that she was running a little late, but not to worry. She burst through the door shortly after six wearing a pair of black stretch stirrup pants, a beige leotard with lace trim and a turquoise silk wrap.
"Hey you, ready to ride?" she questioned as she gave me a quick hug. "I like your leathers, you look yummy."
"You too kid" I replied as I grabbed my jacket, put my arm around her waist and ushered her out the door.
Truth be told I was somewhat taken aback, for this was the first time I'd seen Heather in anything but her kimono in over four months, and in that time it was obvious that I'd misjudged and she'd gained a good fifteen pounds. Her rear and hips sure filled out her stretch pants and the elastic band at the top bit into her tummy, forming a little roll and pooching out her lower abdomen. Wow, I thought. She's getting a bit chunky. Still, the added girth on her chest looked fantastic. She leaned in close to me as I drove, still quite aware of her softness. All I couldthink of was how beautiful she was and how I loved her.
The concert was good but loud and we had a wonderful time, enjoying being there and being together. It seemed like old times for us. We kissed and snuggled between songs just like when we first met. On the way home, as Heather rested her head on my shoulder, she told me that Linda's film started shooting on Monday and she was looking forward to being there to check it all out. She wanted to know if I could take the day off and go with her, but I told her we were really swamped and I couldn't afford to miss the time, even though it sounded like fun.
We arrived back at the apartment and after we entered Heather gave me a big hug and then backed away to arms length.
"So, have a good time tonight?" she purred.
"Yeah, I really did. Thanks for the early present."
She got a gleam in her eye and a mischievous look. She reached out and kissed me, her tongue searching for my own as I felt her fingers probing for the button on my leather pants. I heard an audible snap and then the sound of a zipper running down its track. Heather coyly caressed my lips with her tongue as her hand reached down into my pants.
"Hmm" she said as she dropped to her knees. "I think I'll give the birthday boy a little something extra."
I caressed her long wavy hair and then, moving to my knees, kissed her passionately, put her hands in mine and drew her up to a standing position.
"If you really want to give me a present" I murmured, voice thick with emotion, "I've got a better idea."
I swung her into my arms. Oof, she was heavy; and carried her to my bed, my legs nearly buckling under the weight.
We made slow, passionate love until, unable to contain ourselves any longer, we evolved into a fiery fit of friction, grinding frantically as the heat from our love consumed us. Out of control, screaming, clawing, clutching, wanting only to melt deeper and deeper into one another, we finally erupted. Totally spent, Heather collapsed on top of me and I felt her full weight yet again. I ran my fingers over her back, feeling the incredible softness of her warm skin. My fingers gently traced the boundaries of her burgeoning love handles and then sank into the pliant pillow of her buttocks as I listened to the steady rhythm of her breathing.
My heart ached for her. I wanted to hold her close like this every night, not caring the slightest about her excess baggage. Love was what was important in life and I knew that I would always love her and in doing so offer her a life that was good. I told myself that I had to be patient, for eventually Heather would see that the love I was offering was more precious than the trinkets she was getting, and that the security of my affection far outweighed the remote possibility of finding some millionaire who would share his love and his fortune. Just wait. Wait and trust that my love will reach down into that part of Heather that I knew was still there. The part that could see and appreciate my love for what it was: an offering of my soul.
Sadly, that was the last night that I would see her for over a month. Each day seemed like a year spent apart. I started leaving little notes to her, telling her how much I missed her. While she replied in kind, her notes still held a sense of ambiguity that I just couldn't reconcile.
