Because Fat Girl

Chapter Thirty

I expected Drew to come back with a super fancy designer Spray ’n Wash or something, but he showed up with a folded bundle of black-and-pink fabric and handed it to me. Delicately, I unwrapped it, exposing a set of designer silk pajamas.

“Watching you and Janelle walk around here the other night in my old shirts and sweats made me realize I needed pajamas for my guests,” he explained.

“Do you often have women randomly spend the night?” I asked, taking the pair from him.

“Not nearly often enough.” Drew smirked at me as I made my way to the bathroom to change.

The pajamas were XL, but I could tell from looking at them they weren’t going to fit. Still, I gave it a try, not wanting to disappoint Drew. I pulled on the shirt, maneuvering my large breasts around to get in the tight, unmoving silk. The only way I could fit in the shirt was if one breast pointed up and the other pointed down and hung out of the bottom. I laughed at the ridiculousness of my reflection and took the shirt off. Or at least I tried to, but the silk had no stretch, and I got stuck inside of it, arms flailing in the air. Try as I might, I could not get the damn thing off.

“Um, Drew?” I cried through muffled silk, claustrophobia growing, as I couldn’t move my arms. When I got no answer, I yelled louder. “Drew!”

“Coming!” he yelled from the other room. I could hear his footsteps getting closer until he was on the other side of the door. “What’s up?”

“Can you come in here, please? I need your help,” I pleaded, wiggling in a futile final attempt to free myself. I choked down tears as I heard him open the door, fully aware that he had an unflattering view of my tits and fat rolls. “Please don’t laugh.”

“I wouldn’t dare,” he promised, coming over and grabbing the shirt. With a few hard tugs, my arms were freed and I stood there in nothing but the see-through lace underwear I’d put on earlier that night to try to feel sexy for my date with Sam. I wrapped my arms around my body, feeling vulnerable and exposed. I knew the tears would be coming soon with no way of stopping them, and I desperately wanted Drew to leave, but he just stood there, handing me back the silk shirt.

I reached for my shirt instead, which was wet and soaking in the sink. “I’ll just put this back on.”

“Do you want one of mine?” Drew asked.

“I think I just need a moment alone.” I willed my tears of insecurity to stay in my head just a little bit longer.

“Yes, of course.” Drew headed out and closed the door behind him.

Embarrassed, I put my head in my hands and let the waterworks start to flow.

“For what it’s worth,” Drew added, his voice muffled through the door, “I like what I saw.”

I wasn’t sure how it was possible to blush, smile, and sob at once, but I did just that as I heard Drew walk back down the hallway. A moment later, his footsteps returned, paused in front of the bathroom door, and then left again. Curious, I dried my eyes, threw a towel around me, and opened the door, stepping onto his Guns N’ Roses shirt, folded neatly there on the floor. I picked it up and put it on.

Drew beamed at me as I came out in just my lace underwear and his cotton shirt. I’d thought about keeping my bra on so my boobs wouldn’t flop everywhere, but I figured he’d seen me practically naked stuck inside silk pajamas. Sagging boobs inside a cotton tee were nothing now.

“I like you in that outfit,” Drew confessed as I slid onto the sofa next to him.

“Better than the predicament you saw me in earlier?”

“I liked that, too.” He smiled and pressed play again on the movie.

As on-screen Drew and Elena wove in and out of traffic on mopeds, I slid my hand over to his, weaving our fingers together.

“You should know that we’re just friends,” Drew said.

“Oh.” I unlaced our hands, feeling rejected.

“I meant Elena Marino.” He returned my hand to his. “She and I are just friends. I’m not seeing anyone right now. Except you.”

“But aren’t we just friends, too?” I asked.

“Sure.” He nodded, intertwining his fingers with mine. “Whatever you say, friend .”

“Is it ever weird for you?” I asked as Drew and Elena tore each other’s clothes off on screen. “Watching yourself during a sex scene?”

“Always,” he admitted. “It kind of feels like I’m masturbating in front of you right now.”

“Hot.” I lifted my eyebrows a few times, making him smile and pull me closer.

I had to give Drew credit; he was very sexy in this movie, especially when he was pushing a moaning Elena up against the wall, holding her arms above her head with one hand as the other made its way down her body. I was sure I wasn’t the first woman to imagine herself as Elena watching this scene, but I was in the unique situation to actually have the chance to recreate it with him. The thought of that made my whole body shiver.

“Are you cold?” Drew asked, pulling me closer.

“Actually, I’m quite hot right now,” I said, running my finger up his arm.

“See, total panty-dropper.” Drew smirked at me.

“I bet you bring all the gals home and show them this scene.”

“The only time I’ve seen this movie with other people was in a theater sitting next to my mom, full of press.”

“I’m sure this bit was awkward.” I nodded to Drew naked on top of on-screen Elena.

“Oh god, yes,” Drew confessed. “When the sex scene was over, my mom patted me on the arm and said, ‘Good job, honey; she looks like she enjoyed it.’”

“She did not!” I guffawed.

“She did. Made the press around us laugh so hard they printed it in their review.”

“Oh, Jaqueline.” I sighed. “I love her so.”

“She adores you,” Drew said. “Do you know that?”

“She has told me that a few times, yeah.”

“She doesn’t like most people,” he added.

“I’m honored, but can we stop talking about your mom and go back to the beginning?”

“Absolutely,” he agreed, rewinding the scene.

I scooted closer, and Drew pulled me into him. It felt good being held. My whole being lit up as he gently ran his fingers up and down my arm. With work and life in the suburbs, sex had been nonexistent lately, and my body shivered, reminding me how much it craved being touched.

Hesitantly, Drew moved his hand a little lower, resting it right above the swell of my chest. I lifted my body, giving him permission to continue, and continue he did, cupping my breast and gently caressing my nipple with his thumb. I let out a little moan as his hand reached across me and pulled us down on the sofa, both of his arms now wrapped around me.

We fit there perfectly, spooning and purring, his hands exploring my curves as he kissed the back of my neck, his hardness pressing into my back. I rubbed my hips into him, and soon we were moving together, one solid motion, our breathing heavy, our moans deep, our longing palpable. Somewhere in my brain, that old warning signal was telling me to put up walls and pull away, but I ignored it, closing my eyes and surrendering to this glorious sensation instead.

His right hand made its way to my belly, cupping it like he did my breast, lovingly and longingly. He brushed a ticklish spot on my inner hip, and I giggled, my laughter turning into a whimper as his fingers skimmed over the thin lace of my underwear, teasing me mercilessly.

“Please,” I whispered.

“Please what?” he demanded, swiping his finger over my clit.

“Oh my god, please.” I was fully begging now.

“Tell me what you want, Diana,” he whispered in my ear.

“You,” I whimpered, turning my body toward him. “I want you, Drew.”

Our mouths met as his fingers pushed my underwear aside and plunged into me, my body wet with longing, his body hard against mine. It felt so good to kiss him, to lean into lust, to let myself be held and kissed and fucked by this person that I’d desired for so long.

“More,” I panted, trying to get Drew deeper inside of me.

“We need a better angle,” he said, flipping me over until my back was pressed against him again. “How’s that?” he asked, placing his palm against my clit and three fingers inside of me.

“Here,” I moaned, moving my hips and his arm until he was in just the right place. We began rocking together, and I let out a loud, guttural moan as pleasure coursed through me. “Oh my god, yes, there!”

I grabbed his other hand and began sucking on Drew’s fingers, need building up inside of me. I felt him harden even more behind me as I sucked and he fucked and we rolled together on the sofa, one fluid motion.

“More,” I pleaded, still sucking on his fingers, and Drew put a fourth finger in me and pressed his thumb against my clit. I let out a cry as he filled me up, lifting my hips even higher, sucking harder, wanting him deeper inside of me. With each thrust I moaned his name—Andy, not Drew—until I could take it no longer and rolled over the edge, screaming in pleasure, my voice muffled by his fingers.

He didn’t stop, just held on to me as my body spasmed and came again, going over the edge three times before I declared enough, lying spent, wasted, and soaking wet in his arms. Breathing heavily, I closed my eyes, and when I opened them again, the movie had ended and Drew was kissing my shoulder, saying my name.

“Sorry to wake you up,” he said, “but my arm is painfully asleep.”

I apologized, groggily sitting up and noticing a pile of drool I’d left on his forearm. Real sexy, Diana , I thought as Drew shook his arm out.

“Sorry about drooling on you.” I couldn’t look him in the eyes, suddenly very aware of the scent of my arousal in the air.

“You snored and mumbled, too,” he jested. “Just so you know all of your sleeping quirks.”

Quirks. That’s a polite way of putting it.

As Drew massaged out his arm, I curled into myself on the couch, feeling self-conscious about what we had just done together. It had felt good, really good, but what was supposed to happen next? Did I stay, or did I go? Would we return to being friends once that was out of our system, or had we made friendship impossible now? If we weren’t friends, what were we? Realistically, where could we go after this?

“I should head home,” I said, breaking the silence.

“Do you want to head home?” Drew asked.

“Do you want me to head home?” I replied. I was swimming in a tempest of emotions, drowning in the dark, desperate for some kind of solid ground.

“No.” He reached his hand out for mine, offering me a lifeline. I took it, and he pulled me up off the sofa. “Come on.”

Drew led me out of the living room and down the hall, passing the guest room I’d stayed in before and heading into the master suite.

“Make yourself comfortable.” He ran his finger down the side of my face, lingering at my lips. I kissed his hand, smelling myself on him, then pulled him toward me, our lips meeting. The kiss was tender, sweet, and way too short.

“I’ll be right back.” He pulled away, then headed back toward the main part of the house.

I slipped into Drew’s bed, feeling the cool cotton against my bare legs, relishing the smoothness of high-thread-count sheets. His bed was huge, larger than a normal king, and I was swimming around it when Drew returned with two glasses of water, placing one on each side of the bed: his and mine.

Taking off everything but his boxers, Drew crawled into bed and we lay there, staring at each other from opposite sides, a large field of space between us. I wondered if this was how it would be from now on, a gap we were constantly trying to bridge.

After a moment’s hesitation, we found our way to each other again, navigating across the distance in the dark, his arms engulfing me, pulling me into his hard body, reminding me of my softness, of the way it made me fragile, of how much I had to lose. I heard his heart beat under my ear, fast and expectant. I peered up at his eyes and saw fear there.

What could a man who has everything fear? I wondered as I curled against his chest. His fingers traced up my arm, finding the ridged scar along my wrist.

“What’s this from?” he asked.

“A very bad day,” I confessed.

I uncurled myself from him, trying to get a glimpse of Drew to sense what he was thinking, but it was too dark to see his expression, so I pressed my hand to his face.

Drew laughed as my fingertips explored his skin. “What are you doing?”

“Reading you,” I replied.

“Reading me?” he asked, skeptical.

“Yes, reading you.” I continued my exploration.

“Like a book?”

“Not like a book. Like, I don’t know, like a human.”

“You’re reading me like a human?” He chuckled. His laughing made me self-conscious, and I pulled my hand away from him.

“No, don’t stop.” He placed my hand back on his face. “I want to know how the story ends.”

“I once tried seducing a woman by naming all of her body parts in Italian,” I admitted, my hand exploring his body.

“Oh yeah? How’d that turn out?”

“She broke my heart,” I said, “but the sex was great.”

“Are you really sharing ex stories right now?”

“I’m pretty bad at this whole seduction thing, aren’t I?”

“‘Are you trying to seduce me, Mrs. Robinson?’” Drew quoted.

“It’s actually ‘Mrs. Robinson, you’re trying to seduce me. Aren’t you?’” I corrected. “If you’re going to quote a classic, you better make sure you—” The rest of my sentence was lost in Drew’s mouth as it pressed against mine. He tasted of bacon and longing, and as his arms pulled me even closer to him, I felt his attraction for me growing.

The way I saw it, I only had two options in that moment: make a cautious escape back to my own world or recklessly propel myself into his. I chose the latter, taking off the Guns N’ Roses shirt, leaving nothing but underwear between us, knowing that would soon be gone, too.

The truth was I’d made this decision long ago, probably as far back as Rapunzel’s castle on the putt-putt course. I came here tonight sure I would sleep with him if given the chance, knowing I’d wanted this for months now. As I drove up to his house, I told myself that when Drew inevitably left me in a pile of confused emotions and broken promises, at least I’d know that I was brave enough to have given us a try. And if he stayed, if somehow beyond reason and logic we made this thing work, well then, that would bring its whole own set of issues, and I’d cross that bridge when it came.

At first, I tried to make myself detach, to think of this as nothing but a physical need being met, but Drew made that hard, kissing me like a lover and whispering sweet nothings in my ear. I had no choice but to surrender, to give in, to let myself be engulfed by this man. I grabbed and squeezed him, kissing and licking and drinking in my fill.

He smelled amazing. How did he always smell so good? I started to get self-conscious about my sweaty pits, but I didn’t have time to linger on the thought as Drew’s teeth nibbled on my nipples, making me crane my head back and moan in painful ecstasy.

I pulled him up to kiss me and ran my hand from his neck to the tuft of his manscaped pubes, tugging them playfully. He nipped at my lip in response. His chuckle turned into a deep-throated moan as I wrapped my hand around him, gently guiding my fingers up and down, feeling him get even harder beneath me.

“Andy,” I whispered.

“Diana,” he moaned.

“Do you have condoms?” I asked and felt him perk up against me.

“Are you sure?” He kissed my neck, stuttering as I continued to stroke him. “You know you don’t have to—”

“I want to,” I said, tugging on him. “Where are they?”

As Drew leaned over and pulled a box out of a drawer in his bedside table, I shimmied out of my underwear and threw them on the floor. I turned back to Drew and grabbed a packet, prepping to tear it open when he stopped me.

“Wait.” He paused, putting the condoms to the side and grabbing a dental dam out of the drawer. He laid me back on the bed and began kissing me on the neck, then breast, then stomach, moving his way down my body until he was at my hips, plunging his tongue in between my thighs, licking and kissing me through the thin latex, filling me with pleasure until I loudly went up and over the edge once more.

Drew kissed his way back up my body until we were eye to eye again. “I’ve been dying to be between your legs for months,” he admitted, making me wet all over again.

I handed him the wrapper that was still in my hand and tried to remember all the tips I’d learned in high school for properly applying a condom. I felt like a virgin again, eager but unsure of what to do next. Luckily Drew took the lead, pinching the tip and rolling it down. He positioned himself next to me, an adorably eager smile on his lips.

“I just suddenly got really nervous,” I blurted out.

“We can stop right here,” Drew reassured me, pausing where he was.

“Please don’t.” I pulled him on top of me.

“Are you sure?” he asked as he settled between my legs.

“Very.” I reached down and guided him in, both of us moaning loudly as he entered me.

It felt amazing, having Drew on top of me, inside of me, kissing me, and looking down at me with a tenderness and longing so intense I had to close my eyes or I would start crying with the overwhelming emotions of it all.

We moved around, indulging in each other’s bodies all night, kissing and laughing the whole time. Drew held me as I cried, and I kissed him as he came. We talked until the sun came up about everything and nothing, and I marveled at the ease with which we spoke, like best friends who had known each other decades, not months. By the time we started dozing off, Drew little spoon this time, my body felt sore and satiated. It had been a long time since I’d had sex, and even longer since I’d made love.

Because like it or not, that’s what existed between Andy and me: love. We were more than colleagues and so much more than just friends. We were lovers now, and as my eyelids got too heavy to hold open, I prayed that this feeling could hold up under the scrutiny of the light of day.