~BHM, Romance - A chance encounter changes his life.
Tyler finished reading the story, feeling his heart crushing his chest. The problem with some of the writers on Dimensions was that they were good – good enough to hit the raw emotions that sometimes overwhelmed him. Reading about the happy stories made him feel pleased – but also highlighted how imperfect his own was.
Swiveling in this chair he reached over to the box of donuts he had bought. Krispy Kream Originals, they melted on his tongue, causing him to groan and flop back. The author of the story, a friend, msned him asking what he thought and what she should do for the next story. At this point, bitter and lonely, he responded with:
It'd be a cop out to have him find love. He should wind up cold and alone and unloved. Not all of us get a storybook ending.
He signed off without waiting for her response, shoving the last donut into his mouth inelegantly. Standing, he moved into the bathroom. Flushing the toilet and zipping his jeans back up he paused in front of the mirror. He was decent looking, relatively sucessful, nice, funny (normally) and yet HE never seemed to get the girls. Especially the FFAs.
They all seemed to love to convert the virgin BHMS – none of them seemed to want to have a BHM who was utterly confident in his size and did not require their constant assurances.
“So I’m having a pity party,” He admitted to his reflection, which glowered at him from under lowered brows, arms crossing over his powerful chest, forcing his tummy out even farther. His mirror image looked at his stomach and sighed. It wasn’t that he didn’t love his size – he had been fat before he ever met his first FFA, and accepting of it.
He and his wife had divorced over it a year ago. It hadn’t been the most stable relationship anyway. They had met at the gym he went to. A fitness instructor, she simply couldn’t accept the fact that he was fat, healthy and happy. Too nervous to tell her at first, he had kept quiet on the fact he liked being heavy. Every day that had passed made it harder and harder to bring up the joy he found in his own body. The gentle encouragement she had started with had warped into carping, insults, and finally, shaming him in public. When he had admitted to her he found his own size a turn on and would never be thin, she had looked at him with such pity on her face he had wanted to scream and rip his hair out – why was self appreciation so hard to comprehend??
“There is only room for two of us in this relationship – and you’re taking up both spaces right now.” She had told him while packing her bags. “I’m sorry, but I feel kind of, well, ashamed to be seen with you...especially because my reputation as a personal trainer looks bad – how can I help others loose weight if I can’t even control the weight of my own husband?”
“You met me when I was fat,” Tyler had told her tightly, massive bicepts bulging as he crossed his arms, powerful legs spread apart as he glared at her from across the room. “I spend an hour a day every day at the gym, and I go for long walks every few days. I am more fit than most of your clients will ever be.”
“But you don’t LOOK it!” She had told him, tone despairing. “You look like someone who has no self control – especially when you eat in public, you eat three times as much as me!”
Refraining from telling her he was a man twice her weight naturally, and half of that went to support his muscle mass alone he looked away. “You know what? Fine. I don’t deserve this. You’ve been threatening to leave the least year. This isn’t about my weight; if i was thin you would be carping about something else! I even lost thirty pounds to make you happier – it wasn’t enough. Just get out, and give me your key. File papers or whatever you want to do – I can’t take you insulting me in front of friends or coworkers anymore. I don’t want to look at my front door and want to go back to work, to feel like crap for being ok with my own body!”
“No women want a guy with a big gut,” she had told him acidly. “And you are not ok with your body – you actually like all that digusting fat!”
At the time he had laughed in her face, knowing that there were dozens of FFAs looking on the boards right now. A year later he was feeling even worse about his body and prospects. He had tried a few FFAs, but he couldn’t seem to find one he was compatible with, and he refused to date a non admirer. He had tried that route.
The first FFA had been very extreme, wanting to tie him to the bed and force feed him, tried to prevent him from working out and treated his body like a possession. The second had broken his heart. They had met as friends but their mutual interests and the passion between them had blossomed until she left the rocky relationship with her boyfriend and began dating him.
Both of a passionate and volatile nature, they fought as often as talked. She had told him she loved him and he was her true love, then the next second said she was not ready and wanted to break up. He had told her things he had never told anyone before, and she had broken that trust in so many ways by leaving him – but he still loved her. He knew it in his gut.
He was still obsessed with her – their relationship had only lasted two months, and it had been over that since they broke up. Yet every time he went on msn he looked to see if she was on, texted back and forth about their day and the food he had enjoyed.
He turned away from his reflection. It wasn’t healthy – he knew it, he would end up being THAT friend – the one that loved her twenty years after they broke up, too ashamed to admit it, watching her with other men and having to laugh about it with her. It killed him every day knowing she had gone back to her boyfriend, who she had admitted did not turn her on like he did.
The phone rang, and he picked it up. “Hello?”
“Hey man, you coming to the TRPA meeting tonight? You keep promising to come but you never do!” Bradon demanded aggressively. He did everything aggressively, it was just the way he was.
Cradling the phone between his ear and shoulder Tyler folded his laundry. “It’s just I live in Brampton, and it’s all the way downtown, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, but you can leave any time, it’s not like you have to stay until its done.”
Rolling his eyes, Tyler mimed bashing the phone before putting it back to his ear. “Yeah but I still have to drive the forty-five minutes there and back, and pay for parking and gas, right? Fine, I’ll go, I did promise you. Where is it?”
“Fox and the Fiddle...It’s on bloor i think, between St George Station and Spadina. I’ll check and text your phone, ok? See you there!”
“See you.” Hanging up he chucked the phone onto the loveseat and brought his laundry into his room, putting it in his dresser and closet. A neat man by nature, he couldn’t abide not being able to locate his belongings. Pulling off his T-shirt he felt his large belly jiggle and bob. He could feel it lifting off his belt as he pulled his arms up, then sinking back down as he lowered them. He had been putting on weight recently, and his favourite navy blue button down shirt was getting tight. It was decision time – cut back a bit to stay in this bracket or go up a size.
If he was with someone who loved him and his size it would be one thing – but being alone made it harder to be delighted in his growth. He wanted to tell his significant other he had gained some weight from her cooking and have her take him then and there, not play with his own belly at night. It didn’t mean he wanted to loose any, but just not grow right now.
Climbing into his car he hit the highway. Luckily the accident on the 410 was on the northbound side, and he flew down to the 401 east. He had found green P parking right beside the bar, and he was there faster than he expected. The bar was actually rather nice, and the band playing was decent enough. Glancing around he saw his buddies in the back room and made his way over.
It seemed well organized – they had the back pool room all to themselves, and there was about twenty people, some playing complicated games on the pool tables while others played much simpler games. He had thought it would be full of hard core gamers, but it seemed as much of a social event as anything. The night went pleasantly and quickly. He begged off around 10:45, calling the work card.
The Strongbo cider he had had warmed his belly as he wandered down Bloor, not quite ready to drive yet. He was thankful smoking was banned indoors now, otherwise he would never have been able to attend due to his smoke allergy. Maybe he would go next month. Bradon would like that.
The problem with Toronto was the wind tunnels – some streets had no wind, others practically had you cartwheeling down them. It was already damn cold for October, and he stuffed his hands in his leather jacket, zipping up the zipper all the way and ducking his chin into it. He stood over a subway vent, feeling the warm, moist air and breathing in the unique scent of the city,
“Excuse me?” Turning his torso without removing his chin from his jacket, he looked up at the girl next to him. AT 5’7 he wasn’t a tall man, and this girl was wearing heels that added three inches onto her height. Seeing she had his attention she smiled nervously. “Do you know where Union station is?”
“Yeah, but it will be easier if you get on at St. George – Union isn’t easy walking distance from here in those heels.” She looked at him blankly. “Not from around here, are you? No problem, I’ll take you.” Gesturing, he walked back the way he had come.
She fell in beside him, dark hair falling around her face. It came down to her behind, contrasting sharply with her light coloured coat. “It’s ok – really, just tell me, I don’t want to be a bother. I just need to get to Yorkdale Mall.”
Stopping, he raised his brows. “Have you ever been downtown before? Ever used the TTC?” She shook her head, eyes wary. “The reason I ask is that we have two main subway lines. One goes east west, one is in the shape of a U.” He demonstrated with his hands. “We are basically on the left side of the U where the lines connect. Union is at the very bottom of the U. Yorkdale is at the top. So if you want to get to Yorkdale, don’t go to Union, it’s the wrong way.”
Looking embarrassed, she laughed, ackward. “Oh, thanks, that would have been bad.”
“So how can you live by Yorkdale and not know the subway? It’s in the mall itself.” He eyes her flushed cheeks, he hands under her arm pits. Why girls wore coats that did nothing and had no pockets was beyond him.
She shrugged a shoulder. “I don’t live there – I live in Brampton. I’m just visiting a friend for his birthday down here. My friend will pick me up from Yorkdale at 10:30.”
“It’s eleven,” he informed her. Her face paled and she looked at her watch, cursing.
“Darn batteries! Great! And I don’t have my cell on me to call her.”
“I’d offer mine, but it made an acquaintance with water that didn’t agree with it the other day.” Her panicked expression eased and she smiled a bit. “I live up in Brampton too. I can drive you, but I know that I’m a strange guy and I don’t want to creep you out. The other option would be to take the subway to Yorkdale, then take a GO bus to the Brampton system and take the regular bus to your house.”
She blew her bangs from her face and bit her lip. She was obviously tempted. She eyed him, hesitating.
“I promise I’ll be a good boy, scouts honour,” He said solemnly, one hand on his chest, the other palm up, facing her.
Grinning, she held out her hand. “Ashley.”
“Pleased to meet you. Tyler.” They walked to his car. She was a good looking girl. Nothing special – the kind of girl next door look. Taking off his coat he threw it into the back seat. “What station do you prefer?”
She settled next to him, unbuttoning her coat. “Um, Q107 rock.”
“Good choice!” He buckled himself in. Once on the highway he began singing along full blast to Somebody to Love. He was a good singer, but he would go off key and have fun too. Pretty soon he had her in stitches, laughing so hard she was gasping.
“Can anybody find meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee sssooommeebodddy to looooooooooove!” He falsettoed halfway through the song, drumming the steeringwheel with his thick fingers.
Wheezing, she wiped her eyes, struggling to breathe. “Ooooh,” she sighed finally. “I haven’t laughed that hard in a long time.”
She was trying to be subtle but she was beginning to eye his belly more frequently. His FA-radar went off. He had had a cheeseburger meal, a poutine, a draft, and two glasses of ice tea. Although not stuffed, when he glanced down he could see his stomach was decidedly rounded, pushing against his shirt. Glancing at her he saw her flush and look away at being caught.
“Don’t worry,” he told her. “I’m a fat guy and I’ve been this way a long time, and it isn’t likely to change. I’m used to people noticing.”
He couldn’t see her expression between the flashing glare of passing lights, but he could see her nod out of the corner of his eye. “You can tell you’ve been this way a while, but I wouldn’t necessarily call you fat.” She looked at his biceps, almost too big for the shirt. “You look like you’re pretty strong.” She surprised him by carefully feeling the muscle. He didn’t bother flexing, just grinned. Surprisingly, he was enjoying the attention.
“Yes – I am. But don’t worry, you’re safe from me.” He looked away from the road and winked at her.
“Scouts honour, right?”
“Exactly.” He heard her giggle. “Do you want me to drop you off at the bus terminal? That way you can get home without me knowing where you live.” Too bad. He’d love to see her again.
“How are you going to kiss me good night and get my number then?” Her tone was so bland he couldn’t tell whether she was joking or not. Stopping at the lights to get off the highway he peered at her.
“Don’t tempt me, succubus,” he warned her with a smile. “I’m only flesh and blood.”
“And what nice flesh it is too. I can’t tell about the blood yet – I can’t bite you, you had garlic tonight.”
“Isn’t garlic for werewolves?” This girl was something else. “What happened to that blushing girl downtown?” Fascinated, he turned and headed off, following her directions.
“My cheeks were red from the cold and I was embarrassed – no one likes to feel stupid,” She retorted, pretending to cross her arms in a huff.
This was the most fun he had had in years! Pulling into her driveway he parked his car. “Last stop!”
“Where’s my kiss goodnight?” He still couldn’t tell if she was joking. He offered a tentative smile. She sighed. “Thanks for the ride Tyler...see you around downtown sometime, maybe.” Her tone was both sad and doubtful. She got out of the car and walked towards her house.
Throwing open the car door he jogged after her. “Hey, wait a second!” Carefully he leaned forward and pecked a chaste kiss on her cheek. “May I call on fair maiden again?”
“You will need fair maiden’s number then.” She cast around in her purse for a pen and wrote it on the inside of his wrist with a flourish. Smiling, she hugged him impulsively. As she pulled back her hand slid along his love handle, following the curve along his lower belly, then she patted the front of his tummy.
Swallowing, he shifted slightly, hoping his erection wasn’t obvious. Take me now strange lady! “It’s like a teddy bear eh?”
She blinked, then shook her head, a smile tugging her lips. “A teddy bear? I never thought of my teddy bear that way.” Grinning, she walked up to her house, waved and closed the door.
Hubba Hubba. SHE wasn’t just another girl. Glancing at the number on his wrist he noticed something written below. He peered closer then threw his head back, roaring a laugh.
(Continued in post nine of this thread)
Strange Lady
by Ichida
by Ichida
Tyler finished reading the story, feeling his heart crushing his chest. The problem with some of the writers on Dimensions was that they were good – good enough to hit the raw emotions that sometimes overwhelmed him. Reading about the happy stories made him feel pleased – but also highlighted how imperfect his own was.
Swiveling in this chair he reached over to the box of donuts he had bought. Krispy Kream Originals, they melted on his tongue, causing him to groan and flop back. The author of the story, a friend, msned him asking what he thought and what she should do for the next story. At this point, bitter and lonely, he responded with:
It'd be a cop out to have him find love. He should wind up cold and alone and unloved. Not all of us get a storybook ending.
He signed off without waiting for her response, shoving the last donut into his mouth inelegantly. Standing, he moved into the bathroom. Flushing the toilet and zipping his jeans back up he paused in front of the mirror. He was decent looking, relatively sucessful, nice, funny (normally) and yet HE never seemed to get the girls. Especially the FFAs.
They all seemed to love to convert the virgin BHMS – none of them seemed to want to have a BHM who was utterly confident in his size and did not require their constant assurances.
“So I’m having a pity party,” He admitted to his reflection, which glowered at him from under lowered brows, arms crossing over his powerful chest, forcing his tummy out even farther. His mirror image looked at his stomach and sighed. It wasn’t that he didn’t love his size – he had been fat before he ever met his first FFA, and accepting of it.
He and his wife had divorced over it a year ago. It hadn’t been the most stable relationship anyway. They had met at the gym he went to. A fitness instructor, she simply couldn’t accept the fact that he was fat, healthy and happy. Too nervous to tell her at first, he had kept quiet on the fact he liked being heavy. Every day that had passed made it harder and harder to bring up the joy he found in his own body. The gentle encouragement she had started with had warped into carping, insults, and finally, shaming him in public. When he had admitted to her he found his own size a turn on and would never be thin, she had looked at him with such pity on her face he had wanted to scream and rip his hair out – why was self appreciation so hard to comprehend??
“There is only room for two of us in this relationship – and you’re taking up both spaces right now.” She had told him while packing her bags. “I’m sorry, but I feel kind of, well, ashamed to be seen with you...especially because my reputation as a personal trainer looks bad – how can I help others loose weight if I can’t even control the weight of my own husband?”
“You met me when I was fat,” Tyler had told her tightly, massive bicepts bulging as he crossed his arms, powerful legs spread apart as he glared at her from across the room. “I spend an hour a day every day at the gym, and I go for long walks every few days. I am more fit than most of your clients will ever be.”
“But you don’t LOOK it!” She had told him, tone despairing. “You look like someone who has no self control – especially when you eat in public, you eat three times as much as me!”
Refraining from telling her he was a man twice her weight naturally, and half of that went to support his muscle mass alone he looked away. “You know what? Fine. I don’t deserve this. You’ve been threatening to leave the least year. This isn’t about my weight; if i was thin you would be carping about something else! I even lost thirty pounds to make you happier – it wasn’t enough. Just get out, and give me your key. File papers or whatever you want to do – I can’t take you insulting me in front of friends or coworkers anymore. I don’t want to look at my front door and want to go back to work, to feel like crap for being ok with my own body!”
“No women want a guy with a big gut,” she had told him acidly. “And you are not ok with your body – you actually like all that digusting fat!”
At the time he had laughed in her face, knowing that there were dozens of FFAs looking on the boards right now. A year later he was feeling even worse about his body and prospects. He had tried a few FFAs, but he couldn’t seem to find one he was compatible with, and he refused to date a non admirer. He had tried that route.
The first FFA had been very extreme, wanting to tie him to the bed and force feed him, tried to prevent him from working out and treated his body like a possession. The second had broken his heart. They had met as friends but their mutual interests and the passion between them had blossomed until she left the rocky relationship with her boyfriend and began dating him.
Both of a passionate and volatile nature, they fought as often as talked. She had told him she loved him and he was her true love, then the next second said she was not ready and wanted to break up. He had told her things he had never told anyone before, and she had broken that trust in so many ways by leaving him – but he still loved her. He knew it in his gut.
He was still obsessed with her – their relationship had only lasted two months, and it had been over that since they broke up. Yet every time he went on msn he looked to see if she was on, texted back and forth about their day and the food he had enjoyed.
He turned away from his reflection. It wasn’t healthy – he knew it, he would end up being THAT friend – the one that loved her twenty years after they broke up, too ashamed to admit it, watching her with other men and having to laugh about it with her. It killed him every day knowing she had gone back to her boyfriend, who she had admitted did not turn her on like he did.
The phone rang, and he picked it up. “Hello?”
“Hey man, you coming to the TRPA meeting tonight? You keep promising to come but you never do!” Bradon demanded aggressively. He did everything aggressively, it was just the way he was.
Cradling the phone between his ear and shoulder Tyler folded his laundry. “It’s just I live in Brampton, and it’s all the way downtown, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, but you can leave any time, it’s not like you have to stay until its done.”
Rolling his eyes, Tyler mimed bashing the phone before putting it back to his ear. “Yeah but I still have to drive the forty-five minutes there and back, and pay for parking and gas, right? Fine, I’ll go, I did promise you. Where is it?”
“Fox and the Fiddle...It’s on bloor i think, between St George Station and Spadina. I’ll check and text your phone, ok? See you there!”
“See you.” Hanging up he chucked the phone onto the loveseat and brought his laundry into his room, putting it in his dresser and closet. A neat man by nature, he couldn’t abide not being able to locate his belongings. Pulling off his T-shirt he felt his large belly jiggle and bob. He could feel it lifting off his belt as he pulled his arms up, then sinking back down as he lowered them. He had been putting on weight recently, and his favourite navy blue button down shirt was getting tight. It was decision time – cut back a bit to stay in this bracket or go up a size.
If he was with someone who loved him and his size it would be one thing – but being alone made it harder to be delighted in his growth. He wanted to tell his significant other he had gained some weight from her cooking and have her take him then and there, not play with his own belly at night. It didn’t mean he wanted to loose any, but just not grow right now.
Climbing into his car he hit the highway. Luckily the accident on the 410 was on the northbound side, and he flew down to the 401 east. He had found green P parking right beside the bar, and he was there faster than he expected. The bar was actually rather nice, and the band playing was decent enough. Glancing around he saw his buddies in the back room and made his way over.
It seemed well organized – they had the back pool room all to themselves, and there was about twenty people, some playing complicated games on the pool tables while others played much simpler games. He had thought it would be full of hard core gamers, but it seemed as much of a social event as anything. The night went pleasantly and quickly. He begged off around 10:45, calling the work card.
The Strongbo cider he had had warmed his belly as he wandered down Bloor, not quite ready to drive yet. He was thankful smoking was banned indoors now, otherwise he would never have been able to attend due to his smoke allergy. Maybe he would go next month. Bradon would like that.
The problem with Toronto was the wind tunnels – some streets had no wind, others practically had you cartwheeling down them. It was already damn cold for October, and he stuffed his hands in his leather jacket, zipping up the zipper all the way and ducking his chin into it. He stood over a subway vent, feeling the warm, moist air and breathing in the unique scent of the city,
“Excuse me?” Turning his torso without removing his chin from his jacket, he looked up at the girl next to him. AT 5’7 he wasn’t a tall man, and this girl was wearing heels that added three inches onto her height. Seeing she had his attention she smiled nervously. “Do you know where Union station is?”
“Yeah, but it will be easier if you get on at St. George – Union isn’t easy walking distance from here in those heels.” She looked at him blankly. “Not from around here, are you? No problem, I’ll take you.” Gesturing, he walked back the way he had come.
She fell in beside him, dark hair falling around her face. It came down to her behind, contrasting sharply with her light coloured coat. “It’s ok – really, just tell me, I don’t want to be a bother. I just need to get to Yorkdale Mall.”
Stopping, he raised his brows. “Have you ever been downtown before? Ever used the TTC?” She shook her head, eyes wary. “The reason I ask is that we have two main subway lines. One goes east west, one is in the shape of a U.” He demonstrated with his hands. “We are basically on the left side of the U where the lines connect. Union is at the very bottom of the U. Yorkdale is at the top. So if you want to get to Yorkdale, don’t go to Union, it’s the wrong way.”
Looking embarrassed, she laughed, ackward. “Oh, thanks, that would have been bad.”
“So how can you live by Yorkdale and not know the subway? It’s in the mall itself.” He eyes her flushed cheeks, he hands under her arm pits. Why girls wore coats that did nothing and had no pockets was beyond him.
She shrugged a shoulder. “I don’t live there – I live in Brampton. I’m just visiting a friend for his birthday down here. My friend will pick me up from Yorkdale at 10:30.”
“It’s eleven,” he informed her. Her face paled and she looked at her watch, cursing.
“Darn batteries! Great! And I don’t have my cell on me to call her.”
“I’d offer mine, but it made an acquaintance with water that didn’t agree with it the other day.” Her panicked expression eased and she smiled a bit. “I live up in Brampton too. I can drive you, but I know that I’m a strange guy and I don’t want to creep you out. The other option would be to take the subway to Yorkdale, then take a GO bus to the Brampton system and take the regular bus to your house.”
She blew her bangs from her face and bit her lip. She was obviously tempted. She eyed him, hesitating.
“I promise I’ll be a good boy, scouts honour,” He said solemnly, one hand on his chest, the other palm up, facing her.
Grinning, she held out her hand. “Ashley.”
“Pleased to meet you. Tyler.” They walked to his car. She was a good looking girl. Nothing special – the kind of girl next door look. Taking off his coat he threw it into the back seat. “What station do you prefer?”
She settled next to him, unbuttoning her coat. “Um, Q107 rock.”
“Good choice!” He buckled himself in. Once on the highway he began singing along full blast to Somebody to Love. He was a good singer, but he would go off key and have fun too. Pretty soon he had her in stitches, laughing so hard she was gasping.
“Can anybody find meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee sssooommeebodddy to looooooooooove!” He falsettoed halfway through the song, drumming the steeringwheel with his thick fingers.
Wheezing, she wiped her eyes, struggling to breathe. “Ooooh,” she sighed finally. “I haven’t laughed that hard in a long time.”
She was trying to be subtle but she was beginning to eye his belly more frequently. His FA-radar went off. He had had a cheeseburger meal, a poutine, a draft, and two glasses of ice tea. Although not stuffed, when he glanced down he could see his stomach was decidedly rounded, pushing against his shirt. Glancing at her he saw her flush and look away at being caught.
“Don’t worry,” he told her. “I’m a fat guy and I’ve been this way a long time, and it isn’t likely to change. I’m used to people noticing.”
He couldn’t see her expression between the flashing glare of passing lights, but he could see her nod out of the corner of his eye. “You can tell you’ve been this way a while, but I wouldn’t necessarily call you fat.” She looked at his biceps, almost too big for the shirt. “You look like you’re pretty strong.” She surprised him by carefully feeling the muscle. He didn’t bother flexing, just grinned. Surprisingly, he was enjoying the attention.
“Yes – I am. But don’t worry, you’re safe from me.” He looked away from the road and winked at her.
“Scouts honour, right?”
“Exactly.” He heard her giggle. “Do you want me to drop you off at the bus terminal? That way you can get home without me knowing where you live.” Too bad. He’d love to see her again.
“How are you going to kiss me good night and get my number then?” Her tone was so bland he couldn’t tell whether she was joking or not. Stopping at the lights to get off the highway he peered at her.
“Don’t tempt me, succubus,” he warned her with a smile. “I’m only flesh and blood.”
“And what nice flesh it is too. I can’t tell about the blood yet – I can’t bite you, you had garlic tonight.”
“Isn’t garlic for werewolves?” This girl was something else. “What happened to that blushing girl downtown?” Fascinated, he turned and headed off, following her directions.
“My cheeks were red from the cold and I was embarrassed – no one likes to feel stupid,” She retorted, pretending to cross her arms in a huff.
This was the most fun he had had in years! Pulling into her driveway he parked his car. “Last stop!”
“Where’s my kiss goodnight?” He still couldn’t tell if she was joking. He offered a tentative smile. She sighed. “Thanks for the ride Tyler...see you around downtown sometime, maybe.” Her tone was both sad and doubtful. She got out of the car and walked towards her house.
Throwing open the car door he jogged after her. “Hey, wait a second!” Carefully he leaned forward and pecked a chaste kiss on her cheek. “May I call on fair maiden again?”
“You will need fair maiden’s number then.” She cast around in her purse for a pen and wrote it on the inside of his wrist with a flourish. Smiling, she hugged him impulsively. As she pulled back her hand slid along his love handle, following the curve along his lower belly, then she patted the front of his tummy.
Swallowing, he shifted slightly, hoping his erection wasn’t obvious. Take me now strange lady! “It’s like a teddy bear eh?”
She blinked, then shook her head, a smile tugging her lips. “A teddy bear? I never thought of my teddy bear that way.” Grinning, she walked up to her house, waved and closed the door.
Hubba Hubba. SHE wasn’t just another girl. Glancing at the number on his wrist he noticed something written below. He peered closer then threw his head back, roaring a laugh.
(Continued in post nine of this thread)
