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Old 04-30-2015, 07:20 PM   #1
Xyantha Reborn
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Default Lap of Luxury, ~BHM, WG

A classic tale of rags to riches...or not? A young woman struggling to support herself and help her family realizes life isn't just about work and money.

Trying a bit of a different feel for this one.


Chapter 1

“That will be five-sixty-five,” Rachel announced, holding out her hand. A ten dollar bill was deposited into her palm, and she quickly fished out the correct balance. “Thanks! Have a great day!”

Pausing, she rubbed her fingers together after depositing the bill. Something had been sticky on it, and a little shudder ran through her. Just pray it was food, it was food, just a little food…Leaning down as subtly as possible, she wiped her hands off on a damp rag, trying not to gag. Money had always grossed her out; it was kind of ironic that she touched it all day, now.

“Morning Rachel,” a friendly voice announced as several items were slid onto the counter – then closer, as if she wasn’t capable of seeing them from one foot away.

Glancing up, Rachel bestowed the owner with a smile. “Morning, you!” she answered. She didn’t know his name – she didn’t know most of the employee’s names. He was just Cottage Guy, to her. Courtesy of her nametag, they knew hers. It wasn’t as if she didn’t know anything about them, though. “How was the trip up to the cottage?” she asked as she quickly rang him through, anxious to keep ahead of the morning rush. Glancing up, the cashier noticed the line behind him growing. Damn, did every person in the entire company need a coffee this morning?

He looked gratified at her having remembered. “Great! You have to love the cottage in winter. Everything is so clean and crisp and fresh, you know?”

Nope, she didn’t. She didn’t know what it was like to even go to a cottage, let alone own one. Thankfully, she was spared having to answer by the horde of deadened telecomm employees waiting to pay for their coffee. “Later!” Turning to the next person with a smile on her face, she said, “Morning…”

Cottage Guy always broke a bill when paying, even if he came back three times. The pinched face woman in front of her always counted out exact change, much to the eye rolls of the people behind her. And some of these people got breakfast, lunch, and afternoon coffee here. It made her want to cry – the average person here spent more in this cafe in a week than she earned in an entire day!

Below the til, hidden from view, her legs kicked lightly as she lost herself in thought, only half paying attention to those around her. Every day, she sat in this little space, tallying up the items slid across the shiny metal surface at her. And every day, she chafed. It wasn’t that it was a terrible job, but god it was boring.

Later that morning, Rachel sat on an upturned crate at the back shipping doors, letting the weak sunlight shine on her face as she listened to her food service coworkers rattle away about their meaningless, boring lives. She couldn’t even pretend to be interested as one turned to another and began giggling about a cute guy she had met, or about how another was boasting she had gotten some knockoff Coach purse. Who cared?

Rachel knew she was good at her job. And that both pleased her and infuriated her. Because she knew that she was capable of so much more than being a cashier. During their breaks the food preps, cooks and other cashiers talked about their lives in a way that made the woman want to rip at her hair, and occurred daily. What she was hearing now wasn’t the exception, it was the rule. It wasn’t that the young lady thought less of them for wanting to stay where they were, but she just didn’t want to do it with them. They didn’t seem to have any hopes and dreams about their careers, or plans on how to get there. If anything, they seemed to secretly mock her for her own. Hardly fair.

Even her family couldn’t seem to get that she could want anything from life except a solid, service industry job that barely paid the bills. Why, weren’t those jobs good enough for her? Did she want to be some intellectual fancy pants? Why would she want to step above herself and her own circle?

They weren’t question she could answer easily – or even at all. All that Rachel knew was that since she was a child, she had a massive, driving force within her. It wasn’t a sense of superiority, just a relentless, driving drone, urging her to do better. It didn’t make her feel like a fancy pants – it was frustrating, exhausting and perpetually grinding. The only one who came close to comprehending her was her father, and even he couldn’t fathom the heights she aspired to. Hell, even she didn’t have a limit on what she wanted to do – only to do more. To do better. To be better.

“So what did you do on the weekend, Rachael?” Debbie asked, tapping her cigarette with her thumb.

Rachel glanced at her, startled out of her reflections. “Not too much. Was studying…”

The other woman snorted. “Still trying to get into that fancy University?”

“College, actually…”

Debbie ignored her, as she always did. “You need to settle down and stop grinding on yourself. It isn’t healthy. You need a kid or two in your life – that will focus you.”

The thought of raising children, on her salary, filled her with horror. She didn’t precisely begrudge her parents for their own choice, but she refused to bring a child into a world where she could barely provide for herself, let alone another. “I’d have to find a guy, first,” she said instead.

“I’ve heard,” Tracy whispered to her right, “That…’little people’ like you are in high demand, because your proportions are still normal. Saw it on CSI. Have you tried dating another little person?”

Irritation rose. “I’m not a little person, Tracy. Just very short.”

Doubt was clearly written on the other’s face. “Are you sure? How do you know?”

jfkreghfkuaghduoigbIKBVJvbudfhaf!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Having retreated into her own mind and screamed this mindless mental string of sheer rage, she exited that sanctuary calmly. “I’m 4 feet 11 inches, Tracy. I’m not a ‘little person’, I just came out very small.” Standing – which, given her height barely signified anything at all – she gazed up at the other pointedly. “Gotta get back to work.” The warmer air of the hallway struck her warm cheeks. If only she could hide her anger better. Whenever she got upset or nervous her face turned red. The warmth on her cheeks told her that she was all red in the face.

Why people felt they had the right to comment on her height always galled her. There wasn’t anything she could do about it – it was what it was. Even if she was small, why was it a topic anyone could just comment on? It wasn’t just her coworkers. Random strangers felt the need to point, giggle, aww or comment. With her boyish body, Rachel had taken to wearing teenage clothes. Unless someone looked closely, they just thought she was a kid dressing up like a teenager. No one took her seriously if she dressed like an adult - it only seemed to draw attention more.

Idiots.

*~*~*

Drawing up her bar stool, the young woman stared down at the pages in front of her, written closely through with many scratches and recalculations. For a moment, she grabbed her hair and pulled as hard as she could until tears rose to her eyes before allowing her head to drop into her arms.



Monthly Take Home Pay: 1200
Rent: -450
Food: -100
Help parents: -200
Phone: -40
Transportation: -175
Other: -100
Leftover savings: $135


Tuition? Like 5K a YEAR!!!! So…she would get in? A few quick scratches. In like 3 years???

Tears rose up again, and she dashed at them impatiently, looking at the numbers. If she cut her phone down to a $20 prepay, and if she stopped eating anything except at work…and if she stopped buying clothes except at the thrift soap…that would be like an extra $100 bucks a month.

All she could do was try to keep saving until she got accepted. Her grades hadn’t been high enough to get a scholarship or bursary because she had worked full time since she was thirteen in order to help keep a roof over her sibling’s heads. The banks and national student loan centre had taken one look at her parent’s credit history and sent her ‘with regret’ notices. Apparently, her family had signed her name to business documents while she was a child – and as her parent’s credit had tanked, so had hers.

Sliding down onto the floor of her dingy little basement apartment, she stared at the walls, eyes beginning to burn. If she gave up the apartment, it would be an extra $450. There wasn’t any room for her at her parent’s place – if she could stand to go back - and it would take her over three hours to get to work if she didn’t live nearby. Maybe she could get a roommate? Split the rent?

Placing her head on her knees, Rachel let the hot tears fall. No matter what it took she would do it, she vowed, dashing at the tears angrily. Standing resolutely, she stared down at the numbers.

Food – five bucks. Get rid of the cell altogether. Get rid of other expenses – dentist and doctor stuff could wait. Get a roommate. You could have enough for the first year of college in like, a year and a half.

Do it.

You can do it.

No matter what.

*~*~*

“That’s a pretty bad cough, Rachel,” Tracy said with concern as she bustled by with the disposable utensils. “You should get some cough medicine, lovey.”

Do you know how expensive cough medicine is? She demanded silently at the wide back of the retreating woman. Rachel had looked at it, and nearly keeled over at the white pricetag in the drug store. One little container was fifteen bucks! I’d rather hack it out, she thought irritably.. “Yeah,” she croaked instead before coughing into the crook of her arm.

Her arm kept shaking a little, and she glared at it. Granted, she wasn’t eating a lot and this cold had taken it out of her, but she wasn’t that weak.

The good news was that her plan was working. The bad news was that she was so tired. Some days, the only thing that kept her going was the little slip of receipt paper from the bank. She would get that little paper weekly and stare down at the tiny figures hungrily. Seeing that money accumulate was the only thing preventing her from losing her mind and frittering it all away.

Not spending anything was harder than she would have thought. So many little things came up that just ate away at her money – like cough syrup, tylonol, tampons…! Tampons she couldn’t forgo, but the first two she could, and did. The other area that was difficult was food. She had never had a particularly big appetite, but not being able to eat regularly was making her have borderline erotic dreams about food. Last night she had dreamed that she was eating a big juicy orange, the juices running down her fingers, wrists...mmm. Oranges weren’t supposed to be so stimulating!

It was also making her weak, tired, and unable to concentrate. There were days when she leaned her head back it felt like there were ten pound weights on her eyelids. A few times, her eyes had popped open and she could have sworn she fell asleep for a few minutes – but glancing around showed it had been a moment, if anything.

Rubbing her swollen eyes, she glanced at her coworkers, jealous of the coffees in front of them and their seemingly boundless energy. Short term pain, long term gain, she chanted to herself. Haul yourself up by your bootstraps, girl!

Her mother was getting mad at her, not being able to text and call her – but Rachel simply couldn’t afford to have a cell phone right now. Every Friday she went over and spent some time with them. It was weird and wonderful being both away from, and with, her family.

The family itself was large – her grandfather had been one of twelve children, and he had made ten of his own. She herself was the only girl among four other boys. Being so large and spread out, they didn’t often get to see each other all at once, but they tended to spend a lot of time together in their little “family units” as her brother said. Having left home last year, it felt odd to go home to quiet. She had grown up with yelling and banging and talking all around her...but it also felt pretty good, to be away from them. Not having to worry about people touching her stuff or bothering her.

I love them, but god are they annoying, Rachel thought with a sigh and a string of dry coughs as she gathered up her strength for the trip out to her parent's house.
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Old 04-30-2015, 07:36 PM   #2
Xyantha Reborn
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Chapter 2

“Morning,” Rachel said to the shadow that fell across the counter as she pulled out some more napkins. “Just a second!” Her otherwise empty stomach churned queasily at the spare cookie she had snatched from one of the break rooms.

“It’s nearly afternoon, now,” a reserved but friendly voice answered.

It was an incredibly deep voice, like James Earl Jones, and it sent a little shiver down her spine. “It is,” she admitted with a bit of a grin and she straightened, package in hand. The package abruptly slipped from her numb fingers.

The man in front of her tilted his head as she rose up. He had a long way to look down. He had to be way over six feet. His height, however astounding, was not what had turned her fingers to jelly and prompted her to drop the package of napkins again. It was his width. He bent down with precaution and captured the errant bundle of brown rectangle before carefully and firmly placing it on the counter between them.

“Sorry, I’m a butter fingers this morning,” she mumbled, shocked and appalled at her own reaction. Her hands were suddenly damp, her heart beating a million miles an hour. The hands that took the napkins from the counter even shaking, she noticed with a sort of third person removal from her own body. So he was a fat guy – get over it! She admonished herself harshly.

The stranger in front of her didn’t seem to sense her confusion. “It’s alright,” he responded in a low, level voice, meeting her eyes.

Her own eyes began to smart and almost water from the contact. The iris was not light blue colour or anything she had ever seen before. They were the brilliant, almost iridescent aquamarine waters of tropical beach destinations. Or at least, what she had seen them look like in pictures. They weren’t nice to look at – it almost hurt to meet his gaze they were so bright. His pale skin and the red frame of his eyelashes, and the darker slashes of eyebrows above only seemed to heighten the intensity of the colour. Looking away, she quickly rung in his items, trying to ignore the way his huge stomach pushed its way into her field of vision. “Have a good day,” she forced her mud filled mouth to project as he swept up his sandwich and pop. Her stomach snarled at the smell, and a spike of agony pressed deep inside her stomach.

His wide form twisted under his nice suit. “You too,” he returned with a smile. “Rachel.”

Those two syllables made her heart pause in its normal rhythm. He had pronounced her name right. Most people pronounced it Ray-chelle, not Rack-kel.

Huh.

*~*~*

The next time she saw him, Rachel promised herself, she would act like her normal self. She was bound and determined to make up for her tongue tied stupidity – a stupidity that seemed to be crowding her brain more and more.

The good news was that the past two months she had more than tripled her savings each pay by cutting out all food and everything else. Not eating was a lot harder than she had expected, but in a corporate office like this there were always bits of cake, cookies and goodies left after meetings. And, if she was lucky, sometimes the carts would come back from meetings with some leftover chicken fingers.

In the evening, she would sit, cross legged on her piled up blankets, and read her text books. Usually, she woke up with her nose firmly wedged into the spine, but she thought that she was slowly, slowly retaining some of the information.

Of course, the information was a few years old, but she figured the basics of business management couldn’t have changed all that much. If she started studying now, she would be able to pass easier. And if she didn’t have to study as hard once she was in, maybe she could even take a job in the evenings to try and make ends meet.

As luck would have it, the next time that she saw the big, fat redhead was almost a week later, as she was leaving on her break. Strangely disappointed, she took her single cookie and water to a nearby table, eyeing his substantial form. He certainly was unusual looking. He stood head and shoulders above even the tallest in the cafeteria, and he was about as wide! Ok, she was exaggerating, but he was really, really fat!

Gingers had never really been attractive to her - but this wasn’t the typical ginger. His hair was a little darker, his skin a little more tanned – although still freckled all over. Most of the red heads she had seen were really thin for some reason. This guy reminded her of a Viking, or something – just massive. If he walked in one day in a pelt and with a hat with horns, she would totally buy it.

The man lifted his meal from the counter and turned away, eyes rising and darting to make sure that none of people in the fast moving hallway that edged the cafe would knock into him. It didn’t seem like a big concern – most people gave him room without seeming to realize it. Those sea foam eyes met hers in passing.

Forcing herself to give a big grin, she gave a little wave. Rachel had felt wretched since their last meeting. Her own reaction had sickened her. So the guy was fat; big deal! She tried to remind herself of that as he subtly changed course towards her. That was no reason to treat him like he was a leper. Maybe it wasn’t his fault; maybe he had some sort of medical condition. Who was she to judge?

He carefully set his tray on the edge of the table, eyeing the sturdy wooden bench with obvious misgiving. “Good morning. Mind if I sit with you?”

So he took up most of the bench, and his round cheeks/neck/chin all kind of merged. There was no reason for her heart to be racing like this. He was still a human being, and deserved her respect. “Uh,” she responded intelligently, then blushed and laughed. “Go ahead,” she said, trying to make sure her smile was in place. “How is your day going?”

“Good, good,” he responded quietly, meeting her gaze. “Clint,” he murmured as he offered his hand across the table.

She returned his gaze with difficulty as she put her palm into his. It was large, dry, and so very warm against her cold fingers. Maybe it was just her imagination, but even his hand seemed to feel pudgy in hers. “Sorry if I seem a bit tired,” Rachel mentioned absently. “I was up late studying last night.”

“Oh?” Large hands unwrapped the sandwich. “What are you studying?”

“Business Management. I haven’t gotten accepted yet, but I figure it doesn’t hurt to start studying now, you know? My text books are a little old, but I figure it can’t be too far off.”

He looked surprised for some reason, chewing slowly. “It’s true. The advantage with business management is that the conceptual principles don’t change as quickly as, say, programming. Once you understand the core concepts and the objectives of the course, it’s relatively simple to apply what you will have learned.”

“Did you take Business Management too?” she asked, pushing at the firm dough of the cookie. He seemed awfully smart.

Clint nodded, his big double chin creasing. “Yes. At Queens. University,” he elaborated at her blank look.

“Oh,” Rachel said awkwardly. “I’m just applying to Humber College...” Just a stupid college! Not even a University, but for some reason, they kept denying her!

He seemed to realize he had hit a nerve, because he covered his mouth with his hand, swallowing quickly. “Don’t hate on Humber too hard. It is one of the few Colleges that is considered borderline University equivalent, and has actually partnered with a University. Which is a step in the right direction, if you ask me. Besides,” he added after a deliberate pause. “There are many people who I would have preferred to have had a college education. I can honestly say College taught me far more practical skills than University.”

He had gone to college too? “Where did you go for college?”

“Humber,” he told her with a bit of a grin.

“Really?” she asked with delight. “Is it a good school? Did you like it?”

“Yes, it was good. Many of the teachers there are, or were, actual business people, so they gave very helpful and practical examples. The problem with the professors at most universities is that they are teachers who have never executed on the principles they are trying to teach.”

Rachel suppressed a sigh of envy. He was obviously rich. College, and University? Look at that suit. The black fabric was obviously of quality, and the fabric draped around him really nicely, given his size. Her brain immediately riveted on that point. God, he was so fat! He must have so many health problems, poor guy, she mentally shook her head. Maybe he had some sort of eating disorder?

“How long have you been working here?” he asked abruptly.

She crinkled her nose in thought. “About six months?”

“Nice. Well, welcome, and good luck on getting into Humber,” he said with a smile as he dusted off his hands from his meal. “I have to run to a meeting, but I’ll see you around?”

“Yeah…nice meeting you, Clint!”

*~*~*

“Hey!” her voice was drowned out by laughter, and she shrugged out of her sweater, wandering into the living room. “What’s up guys?” Blue curls of smoke wafted towards her through the light from the TV.

Three of her brothers glanced up from their position on the couch. “Hey,” Tony muttered, returning his gaze back to the show. “What’s up?”

“Nothin’,” she responded casually, pushing aside some plates and swiping at some crumbs so she could sit on the edge of the couch. “Just got off work. What have you guys been up to?”

“Shh,” Greg grumbled, turning up the volume. Tom didn’t even raise his eyes.

Seeing that was about the size of her greeting was going to be, she wandered into the kitchen. “Hey Mom, Dad!”

Her parents looked up from their seats at the kitchen table. Her mother tapped the edge of her cigarette on the edge of a popcan, eyes fixed on her soduku puzzle. “Welcome home. Dinner is on the stove.”

Dinner, when Rachel looked, turned out to be a can of corn, boxed mashed potatoes, and a piece of boiled ham. “Thanks!” she responded, eating it right out of the pot. It was bland, but food, and she chewed quietly, watching them. “I brought the money from this pay,” she said instead, putting one sixth of her after tax income on the table between her parents. It felt like she was pulling a tack out of her foot, parting with that money. “I’ll bring the next bit next pay.”

“Sounds good,” Her mother responded absently, patting her daughter’s leg.

“Is the money helpful?” was Rachel’s hopeful question.

“It would have been more helpful if you stayed at home with us instead of wasting your money renting an entire place to yourself!” Was the exasperated retort.

Her father raised his eyes, shaking his head slightly. Don’t get into an argument, he seemed to say.

Frowning, Rachel leaned back against the stove, swallowing back her pride and pain. She was trying so hard! It was really petty, but all she wanted was a thank you…

Biting down the stupid urge to bawl, Rachel retreated back to the living room. How much money would it take to make things better? She wondered, looking around the living room with blurred eyes. She really was trying…

"Move over, Greg!" She pushed at him, ignoring his grumbles, until he shifted enough for her to fit too. "I'm going to watch TV too, relax!"
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Old 04-30-2015, 11:27 PM   #3
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Hooray - any day that starts with a new Xyantha story has to turn into a good day!
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Old 05-01-2015, 10:41 AM   #4
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Anjula has a ton of rep. Literally. As in over 2000!Anjula has a ton of rep. Literally. As in over 2000!Anjula has a ton of rep. Literally. As in over 2000!Anjula has a ton of rep. Literally. As in over 2000!Anjula has a ton of rep. Literally. As in over 2000!Anjula has a ton of rep. Literally. As in over 2000!Anjula has a ton of rep. Literally. As in over 2000!Anjula has a ton of rep. Literally. As in over 2000!Anjula has a ton of rep. Literally. As in over 2000!Anjula has a ton of rep. Literally. As in over 2000!Anjula has a ton of rep. Literally. As in over 2000!
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Quote:
Originally Posted by agouderia View Post
Hooray - any day that starts with a new Xyantha story has to turn into a good day!
I second that!
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Old 05-01-2015, 08:18 PM   #5
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Love it!
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Old 05-03-2015, 08:45 AM   #6
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I was so excited when I saw a new Xyantha story!
Very good start! It is a hopeless/helpless feeling when you can't even afford cough syrup. Gosh. I can relate back in my early days of living away from home. So glad that isn't my situation anymore! Great writing as always.
Oh yeah, and bang on about the height comments!
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Old 05-03-2015, 02:39 PM   #7
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Thanks so much!
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Old 05-03-2015, 02:39 PM   #8
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Chapter 3


“Careful!”

Skipping back, Rachel looked up. “Sorry, Clint!” she gasped. “I’m going to be late!” The items in her arms shifted, and she clutched at them more tightly. Part of her just wanted to sit down and talk with him, and play hooky for a bit – but that was out of the question.

He absently played with the button on his coat before standing to one side. Courteously, he held the large glass door open for her. “Don’t let me stop you, then,” he said, gesturing her through.

“Thanks, sorry, see you later!” She threw over her shoulder as she flew towards the cafe. Slamming her card into the reader, she quickly buttoned up her uniform top. She had been late twice this month already, and had fallen asleep while sitting up once. Jay, her boss, had pulled her aside already and let her know it was unacceptable. “Yessss,” she hissed in relief as the punch went through, two minutes before the hour. Scurrying to her till, she saw a certain wide form walk into the breakfast area, a leather backpack held loosely in his hand.

He noticed her and gave a little wink. Clint was looking – as usual – poised and well dressed. Today, he had spruced up his normal black and white with a light blue pinstripe. Rachel’s eyes were immediately drawn to the slightest stress lines, where the smooth vertical bars were interrupted by the mass of flesh it was hiding.

Her heart stuttered. What the hell was with her? Lately, she kept blushing and stuttering every time he came near her. It wasn’t as if she found him attractive. He was too fat to be handsome. And she didn’t dig gingers, anyway, even if he was normal sized.

He seemed like a busy guy, and they didn’t often get an opportunity to talk for a long time, but occasionally he sat down with her for a few minutes over lunch. Clint seemed to be intelligent, confident, and sensitive. The man never made her feel stupid, or like she was less than him, even though she was painfully poor compared to him. Sometimes he used words or said things she didn’t know about, but if she had the courage to ask he always explained what he meant.

Lately, she had taken to dreaming really vivid dreams – some about him. One of the reasons she had been late twice was that she had managed to pick up a second job, overnight, packing skids with bubblewrap. The fresh influx of money had her jumping up and down with joy – figuratively. She was too tired to do anything physically. Anywho, her dreams had grown increasingly vivid, to the point where sometimes she woke up in the morning wondering if it was a dream or a memory.

Just last night she had dreamed that he had asked her out to coffee – one thing led to another, and they were in bed. Unfortunately, her brain called shenanigans on the affair, siting lack of practical evidence for the fantasy. How could it tell what it was like to have sex with a guy that fat? Every guy she had been with had been as skinny, flat chested and narrow hipped as herself!

“You ok, Rachel?” Cottage Guy asked her. He had been talking to her, apparently.

“Yeah, sorry, really tired,” she mumbled, taking his money and handing him his change. This one always paid in twenties. Who knew what he spent all the change on. “See you at lunch…”

“Morning, you,” a familiar, deep voice caressed her ears.

“Morning, you,” she returned quietly, a smile tugging at her lips. Her hands shook as she placed the change into his palm. One large palm cupped hers, steadying the hand.

“Are you sure you are ok?” he asked quietly. “Look at me?”

She dragged her eyes upwards, her arm muscles gratefully relieved at not having to support their own weight. “Yeah, I am ok.”

“You want to have lunch today?” Clint murmured, a crease growing between his brows.

Would she ever. A real smile spread over her cheeks, and she nodded up at him.

He smiled back, whisking off with his coffee and bacon wrap.

The afternoon passed in a sort of dull haze, and before she knew it, she was sitting at one of the tables in the back, her economics book propped in front of her. The text blurred before her eyes. What the hell was this jibberish? Tears pricked painfully. No matter how hard she tried, none of this made sense! Was she really that dumb?

A tray was slid in front of her, and she spooked a little before realizing it was Clint. “What’s this?” she demanded, then blushed at how irritable it had sounded.

“Eat,” he intoned, flapping his large hands at her. “You are practically wasting away. You won’t get anywhere in studying without a full stomach – just ask me!” He chuckled, patting his heavy belly. It rippled lightly under his touch.

Never had Rachel met with a fat guy who seemed to at ease with his size. The frequent references to his size always made her uncomfortable. What was she supposed to say to that? Instead of answering, she shoved a piece of food in her mouth. The egg salad sandwich tasted as good as it smelled – which made her realize how hungry she was. The food sucked – it shouldn’t taste good at all. “You shouldn’t have,” was her belated response, making her laugh.

The answering chuckle was rich, and it sent a shiver down her spine. “Don’t worry about it,” was the easy answer, and he began to slowly devour the food in front of him. Today, it was an egg salad sandwich, a bottle of orange juice, two apples, and a cookie. “My treat.”

Maybe it was his large size, but the way he ate riveted her attention. Bracing his elbows on the table, he slowly bit into the food, eyes half lidding. An errant piece of mayo landed on his finger, and he absently inserted the digit into his mouth, licking it off. He didn’t slam the food back – but he didn’t poke and pretend that he wasn’t going to eat it either. Clint ate with the same deliberate pace as his walk, and with an intensity and intimacy that made Rachel think that every meal was a small love affair.

Watching him distracted her, and before Rachel knew it, she was half way through half her sandwich. After those few short bites, however, she was stuffed. Pushing it away ruefully, she caught his gaze. He looked so unhappy that she managed to force a few more bites passed her lips. “Thank you,” she said honestly, her stomach aching a little from the unexpected feast. “Sorry if I sounded mad – I just can’t understand what this book is trying to say!”

“May I?” he inquired courteously, raising the book gently with his fingers. “Ah. That author is terrible – don’t feel bad. What are you having trouble with? Maybe I can help?”

His fingers were so thick – instead of knuckles, he has indents. Focus, Rachel! “What the hell is the law of diminishing returns?” she demanded, reading the vague paragraph out loud. “What does that even mean? Why should I care?”

Cliff gave a huff of laughter, drinking deeply from one of his two orange juice bottles. “The law of diminishing returns,” he said quietly. “Is trying to say that throwing more at a problem will not always solve it. Sometimes, it even makes it worse. Have you ever walked into Tim Hortons and only seen two people working and thought: this would be so much more efficient if the person at the cash wasn’t making the sandwiches too?”

Rachel nodded, lulled and fascinated by his deep voice and earnest face.

“Now, if you added another person to make the food, everything would go faster. If you added two more people, even more efficiency. But!” he cautioned, raising a finger, “If you added a third person, suddenly five people working in that space causes problems. They have to pause in their work, and slow down so they don’t bump into each other. Add a fourth, fifth, sixth...suddenly, eight people in total are less efficient than two were. The law stops where the return is the same – where eight people are only as effective as two. Does that make sense?”

Hell yes. “Really, that’s all that this is trying to say? You are my hero,” she gushed, relieved.

A ruddy colour swept into his cheeks. “Ha,” he said, looking pleased. “Well, it isn’t the exact economic definition, but it will give you the context you need to answer questions and look at the business impacts…aren’t you going to eat any more?” Clint added abruptly, gazing at her closely.

“I can’t, I’m stuffed,” she confessed. “Do you want to eat the rest?” Her stomach gave a weird lurch at his grin.

“I’ve never turned down food,” he responded easily, snapping it up in a few quick bites. After he carefully wiped his mouth with his napkin, he looked at her with a long, steady, and searching gaze.

Rachel looked away, still disconcerted at his intent and incense gaze – both in focus and in colour. “What’s wrong?” The fat man sitting across from her leaned his arms on the table. Once, Rachel had dropped her fork and ducked under the table to retrieve it. The site of his big belly bulging out across his thighs had made her start so hard she had bumped her head trying to come back up. She could tell he had shifted his thighs, and the memory of that moment intruded, causing her to bite her lip in anxiety.

“You don’t look well,” the man answered gravely.

“Way to win my heart,” she retorted, then blushed. This wasn’t some dude at the bar – he would probably take offense. She still wasn’t sure what his job was, but he had told her that he was a manager. Way better than she was.

Instead, Clint surprised her by shrugging. “It is what it is.” He swept those eyes up and down. “You are working too hard,” he suggested at last. “Aren’t you sleeping?”

She did sleep. Usually about four hours on the bus each day, when the lulling motion of the bus shut her eyes on the pages of her text. “Oh, you know, life gets busy sometimes,” Rachel replied evasively.

“Well, if I can do anything to help out, let me know,” He offered quietly. “Here, let me give you my number. If you need any help,” he jerked his chin at the text, forgotten in front of her, “Just give me a call or text.” Snagging the edge of her notebook, he scribbled his number onto the corner. Abruptly rising, he gave her a quick smile before picking up his tray and moving away.

Rachel stared after him for several long moments before she realized her mouth was open, and shut it with a blush. Did…had he just asked her out? No way. Clint had just been offering to help her out with her studies.

A small part of her was disappointed, but another part was relieved. Anything else would have been really awkward…

Now totally undisposed to study, and having only a few minutes of her break left, Rachel sat staring off into space, thinking. The focus of her thoughts started with work, swung to her family, then centered on the sight of Clint’s wide, bulging ass as he had walked away.

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Old 05-03-2015, 02:40 PM   #9
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Chapter 4


A broad, towering form appeared as her rapid footsteps brought her around the corner. He noticed her, and courteously stood quite to one side of the hall.

“Oh, I see how it is,” Rachel sniffed, turning her face away. “I’m so fat that you have to clear the hallway for me to pass!”

“I…” Clint began, looking taken aback. He couldn’t seem to make out if she was joking, or if it was a subtle dig about his own weight.

“No, no, stay where you are!” she sniffed, sashaying by with the cart laden with crappy cafe food. “There’s enough room for me now.” As she passed, she cast him a wink. “Whoever is getting all this food is going to be stuffed – they went all out! Want to steal one? They’ll never know.”

He was obviously distracted. Two vertical creases were etched between his brows, and his lips were thinned. Clint’s slightly tilted, lit from within eyes tracked her progress for a few feet before he gave a chuckle and moved off to whatever meeting he was going to.

She was so a sucker for a guy in suits! Clint obviously had a great sense of style, because his suits always looked clean and well-tailored. It didn’t hurt that the bulging form they encompassed was what-would-you-do-for-a-Klondike-bar delicious. It was weird, but she was starting to not be able to deny his appeal. That coal grey wrapped slicked over his bulging stomach, draped casually over his rolling love handles, and hugged his wide back. Beneath the slitted tail of the suit bottom, two huge mounds lifted and fell as he walked away.

That ass looked ripe for a good spanking, she thought to herself as she craned her neck after his retreating form. Somehow, the idea of his larger form as being sexy wasn’t quite so shocking and…repellent(?) as it had been.

Clint didn’t waddle, but he was too fat to really stride. He moved at his own resolute pace, quiet self control visible in every step. Rachel wished she could see him without that thick suit top, but had never been so lucky. No matter how hot it was, he was always dressed in a full suit with shiny black shoes. He never wore a tie, and the way that his broad, heavy double chin rested on the top button of his suit made her thighs clench.

The food cart rattled deafeningly over the floor, quieting only when she halted in front of the elevator to take her upstairs. Food delivery would not have been her favourite job – pushing her way into a meeting room of strangers made her cringe. It was knowing that a lot of these desk riders were slowly and inexorably plumpening from the high calorie food here that made it bearable.

Once, she had walked in after a meeting to clean up only to find one of the tarrying participants quickly shoving in every last bite of cookie and muffin. Rachel had stood, transfixed, as almost a dozen cookies were shovelled in without ceremony, her eyes fixed on the whimpering button over his navel. At the conclusion the stranger had let out a low and reverberating belch, hidden behind his fist, and actually jiggled his stomach. Just thinking about it made her shift around. Catching her reflection in the mirrored elevator, she realized her cheeks were red at the memory, and she rolled her eyes at the reflection before exiting.

At this hour, the halls were not in a rash of confusion. The twelve o’ clock rush had slowed, and most people were leisurely making their way back to their desks or distractedly trying to make their way to the cafe as they frantically typed away on their phones, barely avoiding slow motion collisions. At first, the maze of offices had appeared incomprehensible and terrifying, but now she knew the layout like the back of her hand. Pushing the cart – which was now thankfully muffled by the thick carpet – to the meeting room door, she knocked twice. No answer sounded, and she gently shoved the door open.

Lights flickered to life at her entrance in the executive boardroom. It looked like she would get a break, this time. It was, of course, empty, and she cheerfully set about spreading the food for the meeting. It was so much nicer to come before, when she could work in quiet. That feeling of everyone’s eyes being on her as she entered or staring at her back as she unloaded the food, made her almost want to quit her job. Rachel carefully lifted and placed the chicken tenders, sandwiches, soup, biscuits, cookies, muffins, coffee, pop, and other assorted food and cutlery.

A dark object appeared in her right hand vision, and she skipped backwards with a gasp of surprise. Her mind acknowledged several things at once. The first was that the thing was an arm, reaching for the food. The second was that the thing she had reversed into was a very large, soft mound of fat. Finally, that her left elbow was sticky. Spinning around, she was met with a field of black. Following that mountain of darkness upwards, she met Clint’s eye.

He finished the deliberate motion of putting the cookie into his mouth, chewing it thoughtfully while gazing down at her. “Prerogative of getting here early,” he shrugged shamelessly as he finished his morsel. And it did look like a morsel for so big a man.

Dropping her gaze, she realized with a start that the chicken finger sauce had been knocked backwards by her elbow – onto his suit. “Oh, oh, oh!” she panted, terror rising up. I’m going to lose my job over this! A part of her shrieked. Hardly knowing what she was doing, she hastily snatched several napkins and tried to dab off the sticky substance. “I’m so sorry!” she wailed as her efforts only smeared it further, adding white bits of fluff into the mix.

The huge man lifted up the edge of his suit, a muted grimace passing over his face. “Well, it can’t be helped,” he murmured at last. His chubby fingers quickly worked open the buttons on his suit, and just as quickly he shrugged out of it.

What that suit top had hidden from her prying eyes was – heaven. She was no fashionista, but even she could see that his button down top was expensive and fit perfectly. It didn’t hug his massive stomach lewdly like a girl’s chest in a wet t-shirt contest. Instead, it coasted down that massive, bulging slope like a silk nightgown. The contour was visible, but the details were still hidden artfully. Only the heavy, sagging overhang of his stomach was clearly outlined by the sheer weight of it pressing downwards. A heaving sigh brought a visible jiggle, and Rachel snapped her eyes upwards. “Please don’t get me fired!” she blurted.

“Fired?” he echoed in evident confusion. “It was an accident – they happen. Now, if you had done it on purpose, I’d say off with your head,” he said with wry quietness. “You didn’t do it on purpose, did you?” he added.

His tone was so flat she almost missed the joking lilt. “No!” she gasped.

Clint made his way to a chair, draping his jacket over the top of it.

“I’ll pay for the dry cleaning,” she gasped out again. Partially her nerves were overstretched with panic. Partially her mouth had gone dry as all the moisture in her body rushed elsewhere.

The large man shook his head. “It’s probably ruined,” he said with very little regret in his voice as he made his way back to the table. As he reached her, he held up a warding hand. “No more dumping sauce on me now, eh?”

Rachel shook her head frantically, shifting so quickly to clear his path she stepped on the edge of the white cloth on the cart. The remaining silverware gave an ominous click as the contents shifted. “Oh!”

The man had to be at least 6’6. He cleared the intervening space in only one large stride, casusally lifted her by her elbows, and deposited her two feet away from the cart. “Maybe I’ll just wait,” he said, this time a stronger hint of a laugh in his voice.

“You’re so strong,” she breathed, standing very still.

He laughed outright at this. “You are just very little,” he chuckled, looking down at her slight form. Somehow, coming from him, it sounded affectionate, rather than insulting. More of a jab at his own height than hers.

“Clint? Everything all right? Oh, look who decided to go casual today! Deciding to show off the muscles?”

Every other man of his weight would have at least sucked in. Instead, he made a twirl and flexed. “Jealous, Mark?” He asked in his usual quiet, dry way.

The other man snorted. “If you aren’t wearing a jacket, I certainly am not going to sit here and sweat through this meeting,” he groused as he shrugged out of his own.

Rachel was too distracted to really look at the newcomer – she was too busy realizing that Clint did in fact have big guns – the flexing pose had outlined heavy biceps straining against that fabric. She was smitten. Recalling herself, she pushed the cart into the corner of the room and snuck out.

“Thank you, Rachel,” Clint murmured as he took his seat, plate piled high with food. As he compressed his length, his stomach rolled forwards and outwards, resting comfortably on top of his thick thighs. The belt which Rachel never realized that he wore, cut deeply into the flab on his sides.

“Have a good meeting,” she murmured faintly to herself as she backed out of the door, shutting it.

“Jeez man, don’t you have a care for your health?” The other man’s voice snipped through the door. “Why can’t you have some of that salad instead? With no dressing.”

Clint’s deep voice was audible even through the fully shut door. “I can do that,” he replied calmly through a mouth of food. “As long as you realize that heads will roll. Think of this - as pacifying the beast.”

Why her thighs clenched again was beyond her.
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Old 05-03-2015, 07:13 PM   #10
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I'm really enjoying this one. I'm from a small town in the South, where the kind of poverty that you're describing is very real. Your depiction of Rachel's struggle to rise above her circumstances could be lifted verbatim from the lives of people that I know from home. For me, at least, the world you're creating feels extremely authentic, and the characters feel like real human beings instead of a collection of sexy parts/ffa feels given bodies.

That being said, I'm also enjoying your lush descriptions of Clint's very sexy parts!
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Old 05-04-2015, 01:24 AM   #11
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I really love this story, Xyantha! Please update soon.
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Old 05-04-2015, 08:03 AM   #12
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I swear your stories keep getting better(hotter) and better 😍
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Old 05-04-2015, 02:51 PM   #13
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I'd have sworn I already posted a comment, but I don't see it, so trying again....

I love all your stories, but it is extra-cool to see you coming at this one with someone who doesn't know that they are an FA. I'm looking forward to how you handle that, along with all the usual Xyantha goodness
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Old 05-06-2015, 06:19 PM   #14
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Chapter 5
Tension tightened her shoulders as Rachel felt the stress and tension eddy up the line towards her. She had never seen Clint angry, but he seemed highly, highly irritated. Normally, he entered with a calm expression – this morning, a thundercloud had covered his face, and people seemed to dart in and around him.

Keeping her eye on him as he approached, she also noticed that he didn’t have his normal breakfast. Usually, he had a two eggs, two orders of hashbrowns, and two orders of bacon in addition to his extra large double double special roast. Today, he had a raisin bran muffin and a water. Which, judging by his expression, was not by choice.

The normally deep, calm, and mellow voice had a hard note of displeasure as its owner slid his breakfast a little closer. “I understand what you are saying. My question is simple - and please give me the respect by answering me directly. Was it part of your job?”

“Well, you see, we had gotten exception from the QA team – ” In comparison, the other man’s sounded almost shrill.

“Was it part of your job?” Each word was bit off.

He looked kind of scary, when he was angry. Abruptly recalling his comments about heads rolling, she wondered if he really had the power to just fire people.

The fear stink was almost palpable as it oozed out of the sweating man. “In some respects yes, I can agree to take ownership of the servers, but the applications themselves – ”

“Are you, or are you not, the Director for Information Security?”

Glancing up as she handed the change to the person in front of her, Rachel caught the man’s erratic nod. The man swallowed, his Adams apple bobbing. “Yes.”

Those normally serene eyes were flashing. Tall as he was, Clint towered over the man, seemingly to overawe him in size as well, actually forcing him out of his path. It was done simply – he merely stepped forward to reach for a napkin, and the other man stepped quickly out of his way. “Now - is it your job to develop the policies and producers related to information security?”

There was nothing vicious or loud in his voice, but the other man seemed to feel something, because he almost mumbled, “Yes.”

The abrupt swinging of those harsh teal eyes on her made Rachel inhale sharply, stiffening. She wasn’t precisely afraid, but she felt unnerved by his sudden change. What had set him off? He had never looked so fierce as right now.

“Clint? We need you in the room again.”

Clint’s expression, which had begun to soften, hardened again, his face falling. His large frame seemed to shrink as he exhaled deeply. “Coming. Sorry – can I leave this with you to deal with?” He muttered to her, gesturing to the orange juice and cookie. Quickly removing himself from the line, he followed the other man briskly, the sweating man trailing in his wake.

“S-sure?” Rachel managed, tucking them behind the till in order to make room for the other’s orders.

*~*~*

Rachel could see him, pacing like a caged lion just outside the cafe entrance, speaking firmly into his cell. Occasionally, he threw a longing look into the cafe, but didn’t enter. He seemed to be speaking about something private and critical, and appeared very stressed. He kept running his large hands through his ginger hair, looking up. Every time he tried to make a foray in, someone else approached him.

Rachel watched him for nearly fifteen minutes, gathering courage. Eventually, the twelve rush finished. In a few moments, the twelve thirty would start. She owed him, for wrecking his suit – it was the least she could do.

Casting a glance around to make sure her manager wasn’t about, she zipped up to the sandwich booth and ordered an egg salad and a ham and swiss. While they were making it, she snagged two bottles of orange juice and his chocolate chip cookie. Whisking back to her counter with her load, she quickly paid for the items into her own till before taking the tray up again.

Turning from his latest pace, he blinked, then grinned such a grin that Rachel felt her stomach swoop into her feet. If it had been any other person in any other place, she would have almost said he wanted to kiss her. “Thank you!” he mouthed, resting the cell between his fleshy cheek and shoulder as he took the tray. “You have no idea how much I owe you,” he muttered, licking his lips as he headed to one of the benches.

Returning to her seat, Rachel kicked her legs, shivering at the recollection of the look on his face. The twelve thirty rush was just kicking in, and she tried to focus on the people in front of her. It was difficult, and her attention kept wavering and drifting off. She was so, so tired. Rachel knew she needed the money from the bubblewrap place, but working two shifts as well as trying to study was literally killing her.

Placing a customer’s salad on the weigh scale, she frowned. It didn’t help that Humber had sent her yet another notice thanking her for her application, but telling her that she needed to apply as a mature student - over the age of 25. She wouldn’t stop. She would keep applying until they took her – but the frustration had her wondering what the point of all her self-inflicted suffering was for.

Maybe it was just time to settle down and live the life that had been given to her. It had been years now and what had she gotten for all her stress and exhaustion? NOTHING. Still working crappy retail jobs, barely making ends meet, still unable to go to school, no friends…! Well…Clint was kind-of-sort-of of a friend.

To top it all off, she felt like she barely had a family anymore either. Last week, she had gone over to her parent’s house and spent some time with them; but as time went on, she was finding it harder and harder to enjoy being around them. Things that she had found normal and funny years ago, now sounded rude. Jokes about fat people, racist comments, and crude sexual jokes made her want to sigh. Her brother’s meant well, but that stuff really wasn’t funny. Her Mom and Dad barely talked at all, and most nights just seemed to be spent mindlessly in front of the TV. If she even tried to talk about her work or what she had learned, she got told to stop bragging. And yet, it was ok that Tony got to brag about his raise at work.

Life sucked.

*~*~*

“Rachel, can I speak to you for a minute?”

Crap. That was never a good sign. “Sure…” she stuttered, rising up from her seat and putting up the sign: Another cashier will be only too pleased to serve you! Trailing after Jay, she wondered what her manager could have to say to her right now. She hadn’t done anything wrong, but she hadn’t done anything great either.

Shutting the office door behind her, he took a seat on one side of his desk. “Have a seat,” he said seriously, gesturing to the chair in front of him.

After a hesitation, she obeyed, clasping her hands nervously in her lap. “Is everything ok?”

“Well, there have been some…issues with your performance lately, which we discussed. Unfortunately, there were a few things that I saw today that have concerned me greatly. When we hired you we had you sign off on our HR policies, correct?”

Swallowing hard, eyes darting, she nodded. “Yes.”

“In those HR policies, we were abundantly clear that sleeping on the job is not tolerated. We tried to work with you on this…but there are other clauses which we cannot have any leniency for. Stealing, and leaving your work station unattended.”

“But I didn’t – ”

“Rachel, please don’t make this any harder than it has to be. We have it on video footage that this morning you hid food behind your till. Later, you walked away from your station, during rush hour.”

Gasping in an inhale, Rachel tried to keep her voice sounding mature and calm, rather than the desperate squeak it wanted to do. “I did walk away for two seconds, but there weren’t any customers, so I didn’t think it would be a problem. And I didn’t steal anything – I swear!”

As if anticipating her arguments, Jay turned his laptop around to face her. One of the security cameras showed Clint leaving his food behind, and her sweeping it out of sight.

“I didn’t steal it! I was just moving it out of the way!”

“Then where is it, Rachel?” he demanded, showing footage of it missing from her desk.

“I…I don’t know! I left it there!”

Shaking his head gravely, he stared at her as he slid several papers across the desk. “Here is a copy of your employment agreement and the HR terms you signed off on. As you can see sleeping on the job, stealing and leaving your desk are all grounds for immediate termination. We have tried to be lenient, but you have broken the top three rules.”

Several times during this speech, Rachel had tried to interject, but he spoke over top of her.

“We have even spent additional money accommodating your…stature, buying you a special chair and switching the arrangement of your till to accommodate. We cannot tolerate this behaviour, especially in light of what we have done for you. Unfortunately, we will be terminating you immediately with no reference. Please sign off on the papers in front of you. I will walk you to your locker and your station, and you can pick up your things. Please give me your badge, swipe card, and key to your till.”

Now crying, Rachel shook her head violently, disbelieving this whole situation. This wasn’t happening! “I didn’t steal anything!” She cried.

“Please sign the papers in front of you.”

Shaking her head, she covered her face with her hands. “This isn’t happening!”

“It is. And unfortunately I cannot allow you to wander around the building unattended. Once you sign these papers, you can leave this office.”

As she swept up her bag, she saw Clint’s wide form just entering the cafe. Rachel turned her face towards him as she was marshalled out, raising her hand in a goodbye wave.

He looked confused, but was prevented from moving more than a few steps towards her as six other men in suits converged on him.

Bye, she whispered mentally, swallowing back a fresh sob.
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Old 05-06-2015, 06:22 PM   #15
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Chapter 6

“I’m home!” Rachel choked out into the dim hallway as she dropped her backpack from her shoulder. Every muscle in her body felt like it was on fire from the short walk from the bus station. Unexpected silence answered her, and she wandered inside as curiosity and apathy warred in her. It really was going to be home, now.

A note, being held to the fridge by a Domino Pizza magnet, solved the mystery. Gone to movies – waited for you. Will be back by 10. Beside it was several overdue notices from the gas, cable, and electric companies.

A furious flash of jealousy surged through her as she slapped down the white envelope filled with money onto the counter. She didn’t have money for the movies – but they did? Rachel tried to calm herself, but she was now tired, hot and very, very irritable. No matter how much money she brought in, it never seemed to be enough to help pay the bills – her mom was always complaining that they were behind on hydro, or some major repair needed to be done that they couldn’t possibly afford. Yet they were all gone to the movies? What the hell?

She was trying – really, really trying, but some selfish part of her stared at her brothers every time she came over, wondering why they didn’t have jobs and help out. Where did all Tony’s money go? Why did she have to try and support them all, when they weren’t even trying? The other part of her stared, aghast, and reminded her pointedly that this was her family, for goodness sake. It didn’t stop that first half from talking over it, demanding why her mother didn’t work. Why her father had to run their little bakery all alone. Why she was killing herself – for what? So she could get a fancy college education, only to kill herself supporting them even more?

And, to crown this god damn evenings of evenings, she had lost both of her jobs. On the way here, her supervisor from the bubblewrap company had called to let her know that there were layoffs. “These things happen, but don’t worry, Rachel,” Jerry had told her, voice friendly. “I will absolutely keep your resume on the top of the pile for when work picks up again. You’ve been great!”

She didn’t feel great. She felt like a failure.

Wandering into the living room, she picked up the scattered newspapers and deposited it onto the coffee table, turning it on. With a sort of clarity that only anger brings, she suddenly realized that they had purchased several extra cable packages.

Walking into the kitchen, the young woman yanked the fridge and cupboards open, staring at all the food – food that she didn’t even have herself.

Climbing the creaking stairs slowly, she stared down at the dingy, stained rose coloured carpet. Something inexplicable rose in her, and she calmly pushed open the first door. It was her two youngest brothers’ bedroom. The young woman could remember playing on their bunks as a child. As her eyes roved, several boxy shapes caught her eye. Several gaming consoles littered the floor near their TV. Since when had they had their own TV?

Backing into the hall, confused, she pushed open the opposite door. Her other brothers shared this room. Over the walls were plastered pictures – of them at concerts, and what looked like them at some sort of exotic vacation.

A glance in the hall mirror showed her cheeks and neck were an angry, splotchy red colour. Slamming out of the house, she ran down the street, as if she could just outrun her problems. As she rounded the corner, she realized that her family was just passing her – in a newer car. Sobs choked her, and her weakness prevented her from making it more than half a block. Staggering, hiccupping, almost unable to breath, she pushed open the corner store door.

Several people saw her, and one person clucked that the poor thing must have gotten in a fight with her parents. Luckily, the shop owner was in, and only gave her a concerned glance. Having known her since she was a child, he didn’t question the validity of her opening up an envelope full of money.

Perhaps all this wouldn’t have struck her so forcibly, except that just today she had desperately wanted to take Clint up on his offer…but had no money on her cell to text. And she couldn’t justify the expense. As she removed the money from the white envelope to pay for the phone card, she gritted her teeth, feeling a mixture of gratification and shame.

After loading her phone, she clutched at it for several minutes, almost shaking.

Hey – Clint? It’s Rachel.

Hey you…What’s up? What happened today?

Her heart lurched at the familiar words – she could almost hear his gentle tones - and she sunk onto the curb, tears running down her cheeks. Now that she had sent the text, she had no idea what to say.

The phone buzzed in her hand. Are you ok? He asked.

Somehow, he always seemed to know when she was upset – even through text. After a long moment of internal debate, she slowly typed in her response. No – having one of those nights where I wonder why I bother living at all. Then immediately regretted it. Just as she was typing in a retraction, the phone buzzed in her hand again.

Shit. Tell me where you are – I’ll come get you.

She was touched – he would do that for her? A small part of her recklessly rose up and typed in the response of the intersection. But it’s too far, anyways. I’m just upset – sorry, I shouldn’t have bothered you.

I’m on my way back – stay put. ETA half an hour.


Back? Now at leisure to wonder what the hell she had done – taking back the money, calling on Clint – Rachel gave a shuddering sigh. Once again, she was split. Part of her threw up her hands in disgust at her own drama, and the other part gave a flutter at his response. As she waited, she stared into the intersection, thinking as the colours switched through their green-yellow-red cycle over and over again.

No one had ever reacted like that to her – ever. Even her dad was the rough kind of love. Oh – your breaks failed….could you coast it home? Tows were too expensive! Even when she was sick, she had always gone out for her own cough syrup. The idea that Clint, a relative stranger, was willing to do this, really shocked her.

She was just considering texting him back when a beautiful sedan pulled into the parking lot and headed straight for her. Suddenly intimidated, she scrambled to her feet. This had been a mistake….

After parking, the door was quickly opened and a familiar, huge form unfolded from the car. “Rachel, are you ok?” Clint asked, closing the door and coming towards her. His deep voice was just as deeply concerned.

“No,” she choked out.

He didn’t ask any questions – a warm hand suddenly touched her back, and her other hand was gently clasped in another equally warm. “Come on. Let’s get you in the car, then we can talk.”

Any other guy, at any other place or time, and Rachel would have laughed in his face and told him he didn’t stand a chance – but something in his face told her that he wasn’t angling for anything. Real concern creased his brow. He actually opened the door for her, assisting her in before shutting the door after her.

The luxurious interior made her shrink in on herself even more. This was a fancy, fancy car, and still smelled new. There was no overflowing ashtray or French fries on this floor. Before the frightened girl had a chance to bolt, Clint slid into the driver’s seat. Immediately, he twisted to face her, taking her hands in his. “Better?”

Yes it was. Nodding, she swallowed hard. “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have called you.”

“Nonsense,” he retorted, his deep voice causing her to shiver. “What happened?”

“I got fired. From both my jobs. And I got a letter that Humber wont take me until I am twenty five as a mature student or some bullshit reason. And I’ve been trying to give money to my family to help with the bills but I think they have been wasting it.” She choked out, staring down at their hands.

His hands completely engulfed hers, and he gently ran the pad of his thumb over her palms. “It’s ok, Rachel.”

“No it isn’t!” was her retort. “I’m goddamn useless! I can’t hold either of my jobs, I can’t get into school, I can’t help my family…!” She wiped her tears on her arm, not pulling out of his grasp. “I’m sorry for bothering you, this isn’t your problem.” Silence met her, and eventually she raised her eyes. “What?”

Clint was smiling at her softly. “You are beautiful.” Meeting her eyes, he gently touched the side of her face with his palm. “And smart. And determined. Don’t worry – you will succeed. This is just a setback.”

“How do you know?” She hiccupped. Great. And now this.

He winked that slow wink of his. “Because failure isn’t an option for you. Now,” he added in a changed tone, more brisk and generally friendly. “It sounds like you don’t have any obligations for the next two weeks – yes?”

She nodded.

For the first time, he looked a little shy. “Can I offer to distract you from your woes?” At her look, he jerked a thumb at his back seat. “I’m heading up to the cottage. Care to join me for an impromptu vacation?”

There was absolutely no reason she should accept.

Go up to a cottage with a guy that she barely knew?

Alone?

Leave all her friends and family without even telling them where she was going?

It was unheard of.

Crazy.

Insane.

She might get raped.

Or killed.

Or....

Staring into his round face, covered by red scruff and now familiar eyes - dulled by the night into something less intimidating - she found herself nodding. “Yes...”

Last edited by Xyantha Reborn; 05-10-2015 at 06:52 PM. Reason: formattin'
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Old 05-07-2015, 06:16 AM   #16
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Very interesting read!

Also - probably more women than care to admit will be able to identify with Rachel's situation of feeling exploited by their families ......
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Old 05-07-2015, 07:41 AM   #17
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Omigosh so sweet! I can't wait to see what happens in the cottage! 😁
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Old 05-07-2015, 09:12 AM   #18
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Some formatting came off - will fix when i am home!
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Old 05-07-2015, 05:21 PM   #19
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Wonderful, Xyantha! : )
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Old 05-10-2015, 06:54 PM   #20
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Chapter 7
It could have been really, really awkward, travelling along the highway in the dark with a guy she wasn’t all that close too. In a car that was way, way too nice to have her sweaty person stinking it up. In fact, for the first ten minutes her flesh tried unsuccessfully to become one with the leather interior.

But it wasn’t awkward. It felt strangely natural to sit beside him and listen as the car flew soundlessly across the road. It did, however, feel markedly different to sit beside him. They had always sat facing each other during lunch, and now all she could see was his profile in between his glances. Clint didn’t seem to treat her any differently than at lunches, except maybe he was a little more gentle.

Once again, she was struck by his large double chin, which wriggled softly as he spoke. His considerable bulk actually overspread the driver’s seat – one of his love handles shivered very slightly as they went along. “Thanks,” Rachel muttered, rubbing her arms at the goosebumps. “And I’m sorry for being an imposition…”

Clint glanced at her again, and one of his large hands reached across to gently squeeze hers for a long moment. Abruptly releasing his hold, he swung his arm behind his seat, pulling a sweater out. “Put that on,” he commented, teeth flashing in a grin. “I’m a big guy and I generally keep the AC cranked all the time. You wont stand a chance of staying warm.”

Wordlessly taking the offering, she pulled it on. They both laughed – it looked like she was a three year old in dad’s clothes. Her hand still tingled from the contact, and the young woman had to check herself from pouting at its removal. She craved that heat and pressure.

When the last huff has left his lips, the man glanced at her again. “I was really worried about you today,” he ventured quietly.

Rachel turned to face him a little more. “It’s been…literally the worst day of my life. I mean, until you came.”

His lips twitched, his nostrils flaring in the dim cabin as he tried not to laugh. “Well,” he said after a moment. “Then it can only go up from here!” The round face sobered, and in a more serious tone, he asked, “Do you mind if I ask what happened today in the cafe?”

It felt super awkward to talk about it, given how it had kind of centered around him. “Um. Remember when you left the food in the morning? I kind of put it out of sight so it wasn’t in the way and forgot to put it back for you…so they thought I stole it.”

His freckled face swung to face her, eyes and mouth opening wider. Returning his eyes to the road, he drummed his fingers on his steering wheel. “Shit.”

“And I had…kind of fallen asleep once or twice…and then when I went to give you your lunch they said I had left my post.” She raised her face to his. “So they fired me.”

He was giving the dark windshield a look of horror that was slowly sinking into the same sort of deep displeasure she had seen earlier today.

Hastening to head off any anger, she shrugged and tried to laugh. “It was my own fault. Then to top it all of I got laid off from my second job because they didn’t have enough work. And Humber rejected me again.”

He was silent for so long she was beginning to wonder if he had regretted inviting her. Instead, he heaved a massive sigh, and his stomach seemed to take up just a little bit more room. Now that she had noticed, she swallowed at the lack of space between that belly and the steering wheel.

“Enough of that for now,” he said gently, although his voice was rough. “Let me think about that for a while. I haven’t eaten since that amazing lunch you got me,” the fat man confessed with a wink. “Hungry?”

“Amazing?” Rachel snorted. That food was crap-tastic.

“You have no idea,” he almost groaned. “I was so hungry I was literally going to starve to death within the hour!” And he actually patted his stomach.

Her stomach flip flopped in response. “Yeah…I think I am hungry,” she mumbled, steering the subject back into safer waters.

“There is a rest stop in about thirty minutes. Let’s pull over and grab some takeout – sound good?”

Hesitating, she swallowed. Something told her that trying to keep up to his expenses this week would bankrupt her.

“My treat,” he wheedled. “I’m a growing boy and I need nutrients, but I can’t eat alone. Have some pity!”

An inadvertent laugh made her smile. And blush. And dampen. It had been a while since she had had sex, but jeez! “I’ve got money, I can pay,” she countered.

“We will figure out paying later. I’m just glad you finally texted me,” he said, lips curling in a wry smile. “I was starting to think you didn't want to have lunch with me anymore."

Now curled up in his massive sweater, ensconced in the passenger seat of his car, and staring at the flashing headlights of oncoming cars, Rachel felt more relaxed and languid than she had in years. “Thank you,” she murmured again, resting her head on the back of the seat as she looked at him. “You’re my hero,” she added, referring to her comment all those months ago. She curled her legs under her and shifted to face him more. “I love eating with you, I’d never want to cancel those lunches…” Which she could never have again with him, she realized with a pang.

Just as then, he coloured and let out a snort – but his warm hand slid over to hold her hand once more.

*~*~*

“Rachel, can you get up?”

“Mmm,” she responded, confused and disoriented. A hand was extended to her, which she took.

Clint bent down steeply, tugging at her sweater. “As adorable as you look in this – ok, ok, keep it on!” He hastily amended as he looked at her face.

Rubbing a harsh hand across her face, Rachel peered around blurrily. “Where are we?”

“The rest stop,” Clint replied, locking his car. “Let’s grab some food, and maybe get a coffee into you.”

The rest stop, it appeared, was a collection of restaurants, a gas station, and rest rooms. Clint made a visible effort to shorten his stride to hers – and Rachel knew she was shuffling, but was too grumpy and tired to move faster. The air felt hot compared to the icy air of the car, but she was glad that she retained the sweater when the ultra cooled air of the building’s interior hit her.

For the first time, she noticed Clint wasn’t in his normal office attire. She had been too upset, and then too tired to notice. He had switched his formal black suit for a smart polo shirt and slacks. He looked a lot younger, and a lot more approachable, with scruff on his face and his hair mussed. When he turned and bent down to talk to her, the side of his stomach was forced into a bulging roll. Her eyes locked on it, fascinated at how it moved and roiled like a living thing.

“Earth to Rachel!” the man teased, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear and lifting her chin with a finger. “What do you want to eat?”

The touch felt oddly intimate, and she flushed at being caught staring. “I don’t know,” she mumbled. “I can’t think when I wake up.”

Placing his fists on his wide hips, he surveyed the selection of restaurants with a discerning eye. “My mouth says KFC. My stomach says Taco Bell.”

“Why don’t you get both, then?” She hadn’t meant to say it, but returned his sudden grin.

“I think we are going to get along just fine,” Clint grinned, moving towards the dual stand.

After ordering his meal, he waited patiently as she ordered hers. “Get more,” he whispered, nudging her. When she shook her head, he shrugged. He wasn’t nearly so passive when it came to paying. “Ah, ah, ah!” he scolded, stepping into her path. “I’m paying,” he informed the teller as he extended his card.

“I can pay for my own!” she retorted indignantly, trying to slip around his wide form.

With a laugh, he used his left arm to gently hug her to him as his right extended his card. “I win,” he chuckled down at his boxed in prey.

“Oooh!” Rachel had hissed, then fallen silent. The reason was that her upper back was in full contact with the bottom of his belly. The strangeness of encountering utter softness and comfort when she expected hard lines and bruising made her quiet. It didn’t feel disgusting, like everyone seemed to say it was. It actually felt kind of nice. Tilting her face up to his, she relaxed into him.

Clint, who had immediately begun to relax his gentle hold, firmed it again after looking at her face. He swallowed, then slid the pad of his thumb across her bottom lip as he looked into her eyes. Those vibrant eyed half lidded, and he seemed to barely breathe.

The contact was more intense that half of the third base groping she had ever received. Giving herself up to enjoying this moment, she gently bit that pad, making him inhale sharply. When he did this, his belly inflated under her like the most comfortable air mattress in the world.

“Sir?” The man behind the counter said with visible amusement. “Can you just step aside a little? I just need to take the next person’s order.”

The spell was broken, for now. Casting a shy smile up, Rachel gave a half shrug. “I have to use the bathroom…” she mumbled, moving away from him regretfully. When was the last time she had felt this attracted to anyone? She wondered as she made her way inside. Never, she admitted after serious recollection.

Her first sexual partner had been an attempt at making her feel more like a woman, because she felt more like a boy with her flat chested, narrow hipped build. All of the others kind of blurred together into a sort of metrosexual, hipster type. Generally thin men who spent more time in front of the mirror than she did – and it was all about the act itself. Even in her longer term relationship, it had felt like a long time interspersed with sex. Never, ever, had she felt drawn to them like she did to the fat form and twinkling personality of Clint. And not one of them was able to make her wet her panties by touching her lips with a finger!

The bathrooms were large, and the hand dryers fascinated her. It took her a moment to realize she was supposed to insert her hands downwards into the opening, and she laughed in surprise as the blast of air swept the water off, moving her skin at the same time. She spent a full few minutes, moving her hands through the opening, then her forearms, fascinated.

Coming out, she found Clint’s eyes on her. He winked his usual wink, and she found herself pulling her shoulders back, moving towards him quickly.

“You look so little in that,” he chuckled as he jerked his chin towards his sweater.

“I am little,” Rachel replied in some exasperation. “Didn’t you notice before?”

He grinned at her over his shoulder as he took the food from the counter. “Not really. Almost everyone is small compared to me.”

Oh. Good point.

“Let’s go eat outside,” he added, moving towards the door. “I’ll just use the men’s room first.”

Rachel winked at him when he returned – he was just adjusting how his pants fit at his hips, his round belly protruding heavily - and he actually gave a little stutter step. “Why are we eating outside?” Rachel asked as he picked the food back up. In her absence he had picked up two coffees in addition to the other drinks, and he had her carry those.

Suddenly hesitating, he slowed to a stop, turning towards her. “I’m, uh. Too fat for these seats,” he said in a low, clear voice. His strange eyes met hers dead on before they swung to stare at the seating.

She followed his gaze to the pre cast seating which was clamped to the floor at specific intervals, and specific distances from the table. Even an idiot could eyeball the dimensions and see there was no way he could fit. “Oh… Oh. Oh!” Rachel cried softly as realization struck. “I’m sorry!”

“Why?” he asked, moving towards the exit. “I’m a big guy. Not everything is designed to fit me. You probably run into the same issues with your size, right?”
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Old 05-10-2015, 11:22 PM   #21
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You are such a good writer...
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Old 05-11-2015, 03:37 AM   #22
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Wonderful update!
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Old 05-12-2015, 02:08 PM   #23
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Chapter 8

His tone was light, but Rachel could tell she had hit a nerve. Following him quietly outside, she imitated him by lowering herself onto the curb beside his car.

It was a heavy, uncomfortable looking action. Not only did he have to lower his entire frame at over six feet onto only a curb that way only four inches, but he also had to compress his width. The process was riveting to her, mostly because it looked like it was a coordinated, careful effort. He didn’t simply fold at the waist and drop down. Instead, he kind of folded, leaning to one side, and slowly squatting until he let himself plop down the remaining distance.

Clint suspended the action of bringing the taco to his lips, gazing at her. “What’s wrong?”

She hadn’t realized that she had been staring, and she quickly removed her food. She had already offended him earlier, and now she was staring. “Nothing.”

He raised a brow at her.

“I didn’t mean to offend you, inside,” she managed finally, playing with the tortilla of the soft taco in her hands. The idea she had hurt him smarted painfully. His reference to her struggles with her own size made her realize how much he probably went through himself – for his height and for his weight.

The look of inquiry was replaced by a frown. “You didn’t,” he responded after a moment. “I was just…surprised, really - that you didn’t notice before.” The first three taco’s disappeared in steady succession as he alternated eating and sucking out of the straw.

For her part, she was fascinated almost to the point of absurdity about how round and soft he looked. As he chewed, the large bulge of fat under his chin moved in rhythm. Sitting so low, his long, thick legs were held straight out in front of him, crossed casually at the ankle, and his stomach rested on the top of them. As he leaned forward to bite into his meal, she noticed with a sort of shock that those soft mounds of fat on his chest actually wrapped around his whole side, stacking with the love handle below. She shivered, finally remembering to bite into her own meal, but her eyes kept creeping back to that roll of fat as it moved and flexed under his arm as he reached into the paper bag.

“Cold?” Clint rumbled as he quickly demolished his fries supreme.

She had never seen him eat so quickly. Usually he hung over his food, enjoying each bite, eyes heavvy lidded and nostrils occasionally flaring in enjoyment. Now, he was just mowing through the food. Rachel was just about to shake her head in a negative when he quickly wiped off his hands on a napkin, hefted himself over several inches, and carefully wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Is this ok?” he asked softly.

It was more than ok. Tears rose as she tried to swallow, causing her throat to close. Breathing shallowly, eyes overly wide, she stared at the curb, waiting for them to pass. Despite that, Rachel was highly conscious of his own form. He was slightly damp and cool through his shirt even in the heat, and she leaned into him, her taco forgotten in her hands. His lips dropped gentle kisses onto her head, his hot breaths warming then cooling her by turns as the night air, cold in comparison, teased at her skin.

“You need to eat,” Clint murmured after she finally sighed heavily, control regained. Taking the food from her hands, he gently teased it around her lips. “Mmm!” he said, mockingly pretending to feed her like a baby. “Look how good it is,” he said in an elaborate voice as he took a small bite, rolling his eyes in delight.

“I’d rather you eat it,” another person seemed to say. “I’m not hungry…”

Clint coughed around the food in his mouth, giving her an odd look. “Why have you been starving yourself?” he suddenly demanded.

Surprised, Rachel dragged her eyes up. “What?”

“You were never heavy to begin with, and now you are skin and bones. Do you…” he seemed to dread the words coming out of his mouth. “…have an eating disorder?”

“No! Do you?” She shot back, jerking in surprise.

“If loving food is a disorder – than yes.” He replied unequivocally. “Please – just eat something for me?” he pleaded.

If that soft tone wasn’t enough, he pressed his lips onto hers when she had finished her first bite. When she murmuringly demanded another, he grinned and jerked his chin towards her meal. Rachel couldn’t actually stomach all that much of it, but each time she took a bite he would lean over and cover her lips with his own.

He tasted like chicken and taco, and his nose pressed into her cheek lightly every time he leaned in. After one taco, Rachel had to throw in the towel. “I really can’t eat that much,” she protested, pouting as he withdrew his kisses.

“Well, at least you ate something,” he commented softly, winking as he tore into the remaining taco. “And because you were good, I suppose I’ll eat this one for you. Drink your coffee,” he suggested, pressing the cup into her hands.

It had been weeks since the slightly bitter brew had passed between her lips – and she caressed the cup softly as she drank. “I don’t have an eating disorder.” It was said abruptly. “I’m saving up for school – I’ve been trying to avoid spending money,” she confessed with a blush. I’m not rich like you…

Swallowing his own mouthful of the hot liquid, he looked down at her. “You are about as tough as titanium, aren’t you?” he said in a voice of wonder. “Tough as nails.”

*~*~*

“I’m going to explode.”

“Are you sure you can’t hold it a little longer?”

“In about two and a half minutes I am going to pee all over your front seat,” Rachel gasped, one hand holding the seatbelt away from her bladder while the other was locked in a death grip on the side of the car door.

“Alright! Alright!” Clint relented, pulling his car over on the side of the road. “Shouldn’t have made you drink that coffee,” he muttered.

Sprinting out the door, she crashed into the bush, ignoring his warning to be careful. Dropping her pants and squatting, she almost joygasmed at the feeling of release. “Ohmygawd,” she gasped aloud, letting her head drop forwards.

Raising it, she realized that she was in almost complete darkness, and almost complete silence except for the buzzing of some bug and the rhythmic clicking of the car’s hazards. It was an unnerving sensation, and she quickly hiked up her pants, darting back to the car.

Clint was leaning against the passenger side door, the flashes from the hazards briefly illuminating one side of him periodically. “Better?” He asked when she came out.

“You have no idea,” she sighed happily. “But is it always so dark out here?”

It took him a moment to understand. “Oh – yes. After you head north for a while all the street lights stop.”

“I…had no idea,” she confessed, pressing close to him.

He looked down at her. “Are you afraid of the dark?” His deep voice asked.

Rachel was starting to realize that dry tone was his way of teasing, just like he had teased her about his suit. “No,” she retorted with a smile, pushing at him a little. The warm flesh of his side gave under her hands, molding into her body. “I was trying to use the excuse to touch you!”

He laughed, pulling her closer. “You don’t need an excuse.” Bracing himself on the top of the car, he leaned down, down, down, and kissed her. “You’re right, you are so, so little,” he teased as he stretched back up to his full height.

His lips felt just as good as the first time, and her stomach began flip flopping again. “And you so, so big!” she returned.

“In more ways than one!” he replied cheerfully, opening her door for her. When he carefully slid himself into the driver’s side, he found her kneeling on the passenger seat, leaning over to him. “What’s this?” He asked in surprise, pausing with the door ajar. His bright eyes blinking in his round face, his freckles lit up by the overhead light.

“You said I didn’t need an excuse,” Rachel giggled, kissing him. Placing her palm on his cheek, she luxuriated in the feel of the softness under it.

Kissing had always just been a formula to get to sex, before. Clint made it different. Gently drawing her lower lip into his mouth, he suckled softly, sweeping his tongue along it. When he released it, he teased his tongue between her lips, whispering it over her own tongue and pulling back whenever she tried to reciprocate.

“You, sir, are an amazing kisser,” she gasped as he finally released his hold. Her lips throbbed, and her mouth tasted like his.

“And you taste like taco.” He grinned when she mock glared. “What? I’m a fat guy! That’s hot to me. Besides, being a good kisser comes from having such big lips,” he joked.

“Sure it does,” she sniffed, grinning in spite of herself. Somewhere in the past few hours, the formal, serious Clint had fallen away, leaving this sexy guy in his place. “I bet you’ve kissed dozens of girls to get that good,” she said with sudden jealously. It wasn’t something she experienced often, and it startled her considerably.

He laughed at her. “Yes – her name was Jill.” And he held up before her eyes his right hand, where in between each finger spelled ‘JILL’. He then drew his thumb down under his index into the universal sign of a girl’s kissing partner.

“You never did!” Rachel giggled.

“I did so!” he replied with emphasis. “And I’ve worn dresses and makeup - I had three older sisters.”

“I have four brothers. All annoying.” A thought suddenly occurred to her. “Hey! You didn’t tell me if I was a good kisser!”

He rubbed his thin thoughtfully, the other hand drumming out a rhythm on the steering wheel. “I’m not a hasty person,” he said gravely, even while his lip twitched, giving him away. “I think I need more data.”

“You are such a jerk!” Rachel cried, trying to pout as he leaned over to her. It wasn’t something she intended to do, but as he leaned over the centre console his belly kind of flopped out and half landed, half pushed into her, and she gasped out loud.

“Sorry!” he muttered, pulling back immediately.

“Get. Back. Here!” She ground out, pointing at herself. The young woman was in no mood to entertain any freaks he might have. “Kiss me!” She added in a commanding voice.

Clint hesitated a moment before carefully leaning back over, this time interposing his arm between his stomach and her side.

It wasn’t exactly what she had wanted, but it was better. “Hold my hand,” she demanded next as he merged back into the slow lane. He was back to serious Clint, and she didn’t want that right now.

“Bossy little thing,” he grumbled, thrusting his hand at her – but his eyes crinkled at the corner, and his stomach, which she had noticed he sucked in, slowly expanded back to its original size.
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Old 05-12-2015, 03:44 PM   #24
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Anjula has a ton of rep. Literally. As in over 2000!Anjula has a ton of rep. Literally. As in over 2000!Anjula has a ton of rep. Literally. As in over 2000!Anjula has a ton of rep. Literally. As in over 2000!Anjula has a ton of rep. Literally. As in over 2000!Anjula has a ton of rep. Literally. As in over 2000!Anjula has a ton of rep. Literally. As in over 2000!Anjula has a ton of rep. Literally. As in over 2000!Anjula has a ton of rep. Literally. As in over 2000!Anjula has a ton of rep. Literally. As in over 2000!Anjula has a ton of rep. Literally. As in over 2000!
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Old 05-12-2015, 04:00 PM   #25
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