~BHM, Romance - An FFA idol finds love in an unexpected way
A deafening crowd made it difficult for Charlotte to hear the stage manager; something about an interview. "What, Jeff?"
"You've got that interview with Rolling Stone," Jeff, the middle-aged production guru yelled in her ear.
"Now?" Charlotte yelled back.
"Yeah," Jeff yelled. "In the media room, next to the band's dressing room."
"Do I have time to take a quick shower?"
"Go to it, but hurry up, you don't want to give the impression that you're an impossible diva, do you? Or maybe you do," he winked at Charlotte.
"Wow, my first feature interview with Rolling Stone," Charlotte thought to herself as she slinked into her small personal room for a quick shower. As she stripped off her clothes she mused about what kind of questions she would be asked, and what she would say to them. She had already heard the same old questions before...
"What's it like to be the only female in the band?"
"What was your childhood in Wyoming like?"
"Is it true you're into fat guys?"
That old question; Charlotte's preference for chubby men was a well kept personal secret until her band, Soft Thrill, had their huge hit last fall and thrust her persona into a media spotlight of both worship and gossip. It was amazing to her how one comment could create such a stir.
She had been dating a musician named Ethan for some time. He was in another local band that would often open for Soft Thrill in their Denver home base. Their relationship was already rocky, but when her career took off nationally, tensions between them mounted further and their relationship suffered an ending as a result.
Ethan, tired of being badgered about what caused the breakup, and still feeling bitter, told a member of the local press, "I wasn't fat enough for her." When further pressed, he expounded, "Charlie [his nickname for Charlotte] likes fat guys and I lost weight while we were together."
The comment caused Charlotte a lot of pain because she felt like she had risked some tension "coming out" to Ethan about her preference for bigger men. She never told him he had to stay fat for her, but they often argued about his weight anyway. She tried to reassure him that his body was sexy, but he resented her words, feeling like she was trying to keep him fat. In one of the last horrible arguments he called her a freak for her preference and she angrily responded that she could never be with someone who hated himself so much.
Despite the fact that Ethan called Charlotte to apologize for saying something personal like that to the press, it was still picked up by a few online gossip sites. And after she was seen out on several occasions with Scott Moore, the 335 pound Bronco's left guard, nicknamed "The Tank," the item became bigger tabloid fodder.
While not a serious relationship and more of a physical attraction, the camera caught her hand hanging on to one of his prominent love handles, which fueled the chubby chasing speculation. The headlines in the rags read, "Beauty and the Tank," "Chubby Chasing Charlie," "Scott Gives Char That Gut Feeling," "Charlotte's Soft Thrill, " going on and on. She had no idea that her flirtation with Scott would blow the doors open wider to her private desires.
Charlotte threw on a silky red, midriff-enhancing, split-sleeve top with a comfortable yet sexy pair of cropped jeans. She whipped on a little light makeup and rolled her hair up into a French twist. Still glowing from her onstage workout, the Rolling Stone interviewer was stunned by her natural beauty.
"Nice to meet you Ms. Collier, I'm Seth Nolan from Rolling Stone."
"It's nice to meet you too, Mr. Nolan, but please call me Charlotte," she shook his hand.
"And call me Seth," he laughed.
She took visual inventory of Seth. He was tall, handsome but rather lanky. She immediately mused why Rolling Stone didn't send one of their chubbier writers. She figured they might try to test her, perhaps. She wouldn't put it past anyone at this point.
He began the interview with all of the obligatory music bits, and gradually he began to focus on her life before stardom, and then her link with Scott.
"Scott and I are good friends, but with our schedules there hasn't been any time to really BE a couple like the media has been speculating about."
"Well, speaking of the media, you haven't really commented on the assumptions that your relationship with Scott has something to do with your alleged attraction to fat men..."
Charlotte laughed, "You make it sound like some kind of crime is being committed, 'alleged attraction,' that's comical!" She giggled more. "Am I under oath?"
Seth turned a little red, realizing the way he phrased the question was a little over the top. "Okay, fair enough, but I can't just pretend there hasn't been a lot of press speculation about the topic. So how about instead of talking to the issue directly, you tell me how you feel about the gossip."
"First of all, I think you're using the term 'press' rather loosely." They both laughed. "But I just have to say it's all rather funny. Imagine, people being this concerned about what a total stranger wants regarding a common physical feature on her partner," Charlotte continued.
Seth scratched his head and continued pressing her on the media fascination with Charlotte and fat guys. "You mean 'fat' being the common physical feature?" he asked.
Charlotte responded, "Let me turn the tables a bit and ask you, off the record as you like, is there a certain physical feature on women you like? Or men, I don't want to assume your sexuality..."
"I'm hetero, go on," Seth responded.
"Okay, so maybe you like big breasts? Or red hair? Or long legs?" Charlotte queried.
"I'd have to say those all sound good, but yeah, I'm a sucker for red hair," he smiled.
"Alright, then can I assume you want to jump in the sack with every redhead that you meet? Regardless of any other physical feature or personality trait?"
"Um, well, not quite every redhead," Seth reasoned.
"Well then, we understand each other a little better now," Charlotte triumphantly laughed. "Let's talk about the music again, shall we?"
"Agreed," Seth smiled.
Two weeks and a photo shoot later, the Rolling Stone article and sexy cover shot came out a week later, creating more buzz about her personal life.
Scott called her from training camp, "Charlotte, I need to know something, did you only like me because I'm fat?"
"What?" Charlotte just couldn't seem to avoid the topic.
"And now that I've lost a little weight at camp, do I have no chance with you?" Scott joked about his recent twenty pound reduction.
She was relieved he was only teasing her. "Oh Scott, you know the press, anything to sell papers..."
"Oh, so you never admitted you like fat guys?" Scott prodded further.
"Well, I didn't deny it," Charlotte giggled. "But I'm sorry they brought you up in the article, I tried to avoid the topic..."
"Oh well, you know what they say, there's no such thing as bad press," Scott sighed. He was pretty good-natured about his large size, after all, it was his job to be a fat football player. Charlotte loved his huge appetite and enormous, strong yet soft body, but they just didn't have enough in common to keep a relationship going.
After a few weeks the media buzz on Charlotte and fat guys seemed to die down. She was in tour mode and had little time to think about men and relationships, except to admire the occasional sexy fat guy who might briefly pass through her day.
She was continually amazed at how the clamor over her fat attraction had impacted her daily interactions. More fat men flirted with her in those few weeks than had ever before. Shirtless chubby guys were showing up in her audiences, a couple of roadies were jokingly having a weight gain contest asking her to judge it, and even the softly rotund photographer from Vanity Fair jiggled his belly with a wink for her at a photo shoot.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Charlotte realized a dream the night of the Grammys, when Soft Thrill won Song of the Year for their mega hit, "To Damage You." She wrote the lyrics after her split with Ethan, and felt vindicated that the pain she went through with him had a silver lining.
After the ceremonies, she went to an after-party thrown by Spin Magazine. While talking to an editor, neo-punk king Rob Rimbaud walked right up to her and just stood there, staring into her eyes. Rob was the scandalously beautiful singer and bass guitar player for the ultra popular punk band, The Mutes. Charlotte let out an embarrassed laugh and tilted her head, "Um, Hi?"
He just kept looking at her for a few moments, then a smile warmed over him. He seemed both out of it and yet very lucid, looking intensely into her eyes. The editor interrupted, "I'll catch up with you later, Charlotte."
She half heard him, "Okay," and her eyes returned to Rob's. Warm feelings washed over her. His face was so open and kind. She had never seen him with this serene look in any videos or pictures. He was usually so sullen, quiet and brooding.
Rob was the heartthrob of punk. He had large, dark, soulful eyes, high, striking cheekbones and pretty-boy good looks. He was also razor thin, like many rock and roll superstars strive to be, cut from that same emaciated rebel mold. Charlotte couldn't figure out this odd ethereal moment they were having, surely she wasn't attracted to a super-skinny bad boy.
Finally he spoke, saying the oddest thing, "You do have a prism inside of you." His gaze continued.
"I do?" she felt his eyes penetrating hers further. "Was that a pick up line or something?" she thought to herself.
All of a sudden he seemed to regain his composure, "I'm glad you won the award," he offered, referring to her Grammy win earlier that evening, "the song is beautiful. I really feel the hurt in your voice."
"Thank you," she only offered, still not knowing what to say. Was he high? Drunk? Strung out? She felt his continued focus on her strongly, but it was like he was searching her eyes for her approval rather than trying to seduce her.
Just then, his manager interrupted them, "Sorry, Ms. Collier, Mr. Rimbaud has another engagement," and he started to guide Rob away from her.
Rob paused; looking at her, "I hope..." he stopped again, looked down, for the first time taking his gaze from her eyes, and then his gaze darted right back up to hers. His manager patted his shoulder and he just stuttered, "I gotta..." and gestured toward the door.
In an instant he was gone, and Charlotte was dumbfounded. It was the most inexplicable, intense, non-meeting she had ever experienced. Jason, Soft Thrill's drummer came up behind Charlotte and asked, "Was that Rob Rimbaud chatting you up? Did he get your digits?" he teased.
"No, he didn't ask for them," she played it down, but the look on her face was still preoccupied with his eerie charm.
A couple of weeks later, she had almost stopped thinking about her strange encounter with Rob when she got a call from her assistant, Lori. "Did you hear?" Rob Rimbaud collapsed in a hotel lobby in Vegas. The Palms, I think. Some reports say that he had been looking pretty anemic at Ghostbar earlier in the day. I guess his manager has him in rehab now...."
Lori trailed off and chattered away about other gossip, but Charlotte was thrown by this news. She thought he acted a little bizarre the night of the Grammys, but she didn't think he was on the verge of collapse. Maybe his peculiar behavior was a cry for help, she wondered.
She had Lori track down his address at the rehabilitation facility and wrote him a short letter:
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Dear Rob,
I hope this note finds you feeling healthy. I'm sending this to let you know that I wished we could have talked more. I feel like we have an unfinished conversation hanging out there. I'm here if you ever want to continue it.
Warm regards,
Charlotte Collier
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
She mailed it thinking she must be mad. He probably was just playing a little mind game with her, and will get a big laugh from it. She tried to put it out of her mind, once and for all, but she couldn't shake the underlying feeling that she needed to be there for him in some way. After a few more days, she received a letter, postmarked from Utah.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Dear Charlotte,
Your letter brought an enormous smile to my face. I haven't had much contact with the "regular" world lately, and the regular world has put me at a distance as well, except for the tabloid circus lurking around here, hoping to catch a glimpse of the addict. I think you can appreciate the sting of the paparazzi.
It's entirely possible you think that our bizarre meeting was a result of my downward spiral, but in actuality, those were the most coherent moments I've experienced in a while. I'd like more of those.
Rob
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Charlotte was elated that the connection she felt wasn't just her own imagination. Although she wondered what he meant by "I think you can appreciate the sting of the paparazzi." Had he followed her fat drama in the papers? She turned red thinking about it. She wasn't sure what his intentions were, and not even sure of her own. She decided to write him again.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Dear Rob,
I am relieved you don't think I'm overstepping boundaries by caring about you. I feel like I could talk to you all day long but not one word comes to mind right now. You could contact me when you are in Malibu? I am staying here for a few months while we record.
Your friend,
Charlotte
(continued in post three of this thread)
Soft Thrill
by Ashley
by Ashley
A deafening crowd made it difficult for Charlotte to hear the stage manager; something about an interview. "What, Jeff?"
"You've got that interview with Rolling Stone," Jeff, the middle-aged production guru yelled in her ear.
"Now?" Charlotte yelled back.
"Yeah," Jeff yelled. "In the media room, next to the band's dressing room."
"Do I have time to take a quick shower?"
"Go to it, but hurry up, you don't want to give the impression that you're an impossible diva, do you? Or maybe you do," he winked at Charlotte.
"Wow, my first feature interview with Rolling Stone," Charlotte thought to herself as she slinked into her small personal room for a quick shower. As she stripped off her clothes she mused about what kind of questions she would be asked, and what she would say to them. She had already heard the same old questions before...
"What's it like to be the only female in the band?"
"What was your childhood in Wyoming like?"
"Is it true you're into fat guys?"
That old question; Charlotte's preference for chubby men was a well kept personal secret until her band, Soft Thrill, had their huge hit last fall and thrust her persona into a media spotlight of both worship and gossip. It was amazing to her how one comment could create such a stir.
She had been dating a musician named Ethan for some time. He was in another local band that would often open for Soft Thrill in their Denver home base. Their relationship was already rocky, but when her career took off nationally, tensions between them mounted further and their relationship suffered an ending as a result.
Ethan, tired of being badgered about what caused the breakup, and still feeling bitter, told a member of the local press, "I wasn't fat enough for her." When further pressed, he expounded, "Charlie [his nickname for Charlotte] likes fat guys and I lost weight while we were together."
The comment caused Charlotte a lot of pain because she felt like she had risked some tension "coming out" to Ethan about her preference for bigger men. She never told him he had to stay fat for her, but they often argued about his weight anyway. She tried to reassure him that his body was sexy, but he resented her words, feeling like she was trying to keep him fat. In one of the last horrible arguments he called her a freak for her preference and she angrily responded that she could never be with someone who hated himself so much.
Despite the fact that Ethan called Charlotte to apologize for saying something personal like that to the press, it was still picked up by a few online gossip sites. And after she was seen out on several occasions with Scott Moore, the 335 pound Bronco's left guard, nicknamed "The Tank," the item became bigger tabloid fodder.
While not a serious relationship and more of a physical attraction, the camera caught her hand hanging on to one of his prominent love handles, which fueled the chubby chasing speculation. The headlines in the rags read, "Beauty and the Tank," "Chubby Chasing Charlie," "Scott Gives Char That Gut Feeling," "Charlotte's Soft Thrill, " going on and on. She had no idea that her flirtation with Scott would blow the doors open wider to her private desires.
Charlotte threw on a silky red, midriff-enhancing, split-sleeve top with a comfortable yet sexy pair of cropped jeans. She whipped on a little light makeup and rolled her hair up into a French twist. Still glowing from her onstage workout, the Rolling Stone interviewer was stunned by her natural beauty.
"Nice to meet you Ms. Collier, I'm Seth Nolan from Rolling Stone."
"It's nice to meet you too, Mr. Nolan, but please call me Charlotte," she shook his hand.
"And call me Seth," he laughed.
She took visual inventory of Seth. He was tall, handsome but rather lanky. She immediately mused why Rolling Stone didn't send one of their chubbier writers. She figured they might try to test her, perhaps. She wouldn't put it past anyone at this point.
He began the interview with all of the obligatory music bits, and gradually he began to focus on her life before stardom, and then her link with Scott.
"Scott and I are good friends, but with our schedules there hasn't been any time to really BE a couple like the media has been speculating about."
"Well, speaking of the media, you haven't really commented on the assumptions that your relationship with Scott has something to do with your alleged attraction to fat men..."
Charlotte laughed, "You make it sound like some kind of crime is being committed, 'alleged attraction,' that's comical!" She giggled more. "Am I under oath?"
Seth turned a little red, realizing the way he phrased the question was a little over the top. "Okay, fair enough, but I can't just pretend there hasn't been a lot of press speculation about the topic. So how about instead of talking to the issue directly, you tell me how you feel about the gossip."
"First of all, I think you're using the term 'press' rather loosely." They both laughed. "But I just have to say it's all rather funny. Imagine, people being this concerned about what a total stranger wants regarding a common physical feature on her partner," Charlotte continued.
Seth scratched his head and continued pressing her on the media fascination with Charlotte and fat guys. "You mean 'fat' being the common physical feature?" he asked.
Charlotte responded, "Let me turn the tables a bit and ask you, off the record as you like, is there a certain physical feature on women you like? Or men, I don't want to assume your sexuality..."
"I'm hetero, go on," Seth responded.
"Okay, so maybe you like big breasts? Or red hair? Or long legs?" Charlotte queried.
"I'd have to say those all sound good, but yeah, I'm a sucker for red hair," he smiled.
"Alright, then can I assume you want to jump in the sack with every redhead that you meet? Regardless of any other physical feature or personality trait?"
"Um, well, not quite every redhead," Seth reasoned.
"Well then, we understand each other a little better now," Charlotte triumphantly laughed. "Let's talk about the music again, shall we?"
"Agreed," Seth smiled.
Two weeks and a photo shoot later, the Rolling Stone article and sexy cover shot came out a week later, creating more buzz about her personal life.
Scott called her from training camp, "Charlotte, I need to know something, did you only like me because I'm fat?"
"What?" Charlotte just couldn't seem to avoid the topic.
"And now that I've lost a little weight at camp, do I have no chance with you?" Scott joked about his recent twenty pound reduction.
She was relieved he was only teasing her. "Oh Scott, you know the press, anything to sell papers..."
"Oh, so you never admitted you like fat guys?" Scott prodded further.
"Well, I didn't deny it," Charlotte giggled. "But I'm sorry they brought you up in the article, I tried to avoid the topic..."
"Oh well, you know what they say, there's no such thing as bad press," Scott sighed. He was pretty good-natured about his large size, after all, it was his job to be a fat football player. Charlotte loved his huge appetite and enormous, strong yet soft body, but they just didn't have enough in common to keep a relationship going.
After a few weeks the media buzz on Charlotte and fat guys seemed to die down. She was in tour mode and had little time to think about men and relationships, except to admire the occasional sexy fat guy who might briefly pass through her day.
She was continually amazed at how the clamor over her fat attraction had impacted her daily interactions. More fat men flirted with her in those few weeks than had ever before. Shirtless chubby guys were showing up in her audiences, a couple of roadies were jokingly having a weight gain contest asking her to judge it, and even the softly rotund photographer from Vanity Fair jiggled his belly with a wink for her at a photo shoot.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Charlotte realized a dream the night of the Grammys, when Soft Thrill won Song of the Year for their mega hit, "To Damage You." She wrote the lyrics after her split with Ethan, and felt vindicated that the pain she went through with him had a silver lining.
After the ceremonies, she went to an after-party thrown by Spin Magazine. While talking to an editor, neo-punk king Rob Rimbaud walked right up to her and just stood there, staring into her eyes. Rob was the scandalously beautiful singer and bass guitar player for the ultra popular punk band, The Mutes. Charlotte let out an embarrassed laugh and tilted her head, "Um, Hi?"
He just kept looking at her for a few moments, then a smile warmed over him. He seemed both out of it and yet very lucid, looking intensely into her eyes. The editor interrupted, "I'll catch up with you later, Charlotte."
She half heard him, "Okay," and her eyes returned to Rob's. Warm feelings washed over her. His face was so open and kind. She had never seen him with this serene look in any videos or pictures. He was usually so sullen, quiet and brooding.
Rob was the heartthrob of punk. He had large, dark, soulful eyes, high, striking cheekbones and pretty-boy good looks. He was also razor thin, like many rock and roll superstars strive to be, cut from that same emaciated rebel mold. Charlotte couldn't figure out this odd ethereal moment they were having, surely she wasn't attracted to a super-skinny bad boy.
Finally he spoke, saying the oddest thing, "You do have a prism inside of you." His gaze continued.
"I do?" she felt his eyes penetrating hers further. "Was that a pick up line or something?" she thought to herself.
All of a sudden he seemed to regain his composure, "I'm glad you won the award," he offered, referring to her Grammy win earlier that evening, "the song is beautiful. I really feel the hurt in your voice."
"Thank you," she only offered, still not knowing what to say. Was he high? Drunk? Strung out? She felt his continued focus on her strongly, but it was like he was searching her eyes for her approval rather than trying to seduce her.
Just then, his manager interrupted them, "Sorry, Ms. Collier, Mr. Rimbaud has another engagement," and he started to guide Rob away from her.
Rob paused; looking at her, "I hope..." he stopped again, looked down, for the first time taking his gaze from her eyes, and then his gaze darted right back up to hers. His manager patted his shoulder and he just stuttered, "I gotta..." and gestured toward the door.
In an instant he was gone, and Charlotte was dumbfounded. It was the most inexplicable, intense, non-meeting she had ever experienced. Jason, Soft Thrill's drummer came up behind Charlotte and asked, "Was that Rob Rimbaud chatting you up? Did he get your digits?" he teased.
"No, he didn't ask for them," she played it down, but the look on her face was still preoccupied with his eerie charm.
A couple of weeks later, she had almost stopped thinking about her strange encounter with Rob when she got a call from her assistant, Lori. "Did you hear?" Rob Rimbaud collapsed in a hotel lobby in Vegas. The Palms, I think. Some reports say that he had been looking pretty anemic at Ghostbar earlier in the day. I guess his manager has him in rehab now...."
Lori trailed off and chattered away about other gossip, but Charlotte was thrown by this news. She thought he acted a little bizarre the night of the Grammys, but she didn't think he was on the verge of collapse. Maybe his peculiar behavior was a cry for help, she wondered.
She had Lori track down his address at the rehabilitation facility and wrote him a short letter:
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Dear Rob,
I hope this note finds you feeling healthy. I'm sending this to let you know that I wished we could have talked more. I feel like we have an unfinished conversation hanging out there. I'm here if you ever want to continue it.
Warm regards,
Charlotte Collier
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
She mailed it thinking she must be mad. He probably was just playing a little mind game with her, and will get a big laugh from it. She tried to put it out of her mind, once and for all, but she couldn't shake the underlying feeling that she needed to be there for him in some way. After a few more days, she received a letter, postmarked from Utah.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Dear Charlotte,
Your letter brought an enormous smile to my face. I haven't had much contact with the "regular" world lately, and the regular world has put me at a distance as well, except for the tabloid circus lurking around here, hoping to catch a glimpse of the addict. I think you can appreciate the sting of the paparazzi.
It's entirely possible you think that our bizarre meeting was a result of my downward spiral, but in actuality, those were the most coherent moments I've experienced in a while. I'd like more of those.
Rob
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Charlotte was elated that the connection she felt wasn't just her own imagination. Although she wondered what he meant by "I think you can appreciate the sting of the paparazzi." Had he followed her fat drama in the papers? She turned red thinking about it. She wasn't sure what his intentions were, and not even sure of her own. She decided to write him again.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Dear Rob,
I am relieved you don't think I'm overstepping boundaries by caring about you. I feel like I could talk to you all day long but not one word comes to mind right now. You could contact me when you are in Malibu? I am staying here for a few months while we record.
Your friend,
Charlotte
(continued in post three of this thread)
