Craving For Curves #1 (BBW Erotic Romance) (3 page)

“Accentuating things.”

“Exactly!” he said, softly grabbing my hands. He’s turning up the flirting. And that’s not a bad thing. “But, you’re not intruding at all. You have a warm spirit. Very calming and soothing; easy to be around.”

“Thank you. You’re quite the observer.” Calming and soothing? He didn’t know me at all. Calming and soothing aren’t what you would use to describe me if I hadn’t had dinner
yet. I just played along. I couldn’t recall the last time I was being charmed. I was eating this up like red velvet cake.

“Thanks. Being in this business, it’s hard to meet people that are down to earth
. Everyone blows smoke up your ass instead of being honest. So how’s your mouth holding up from being singed last night?

“My mouth is fine, silly. I didn
’t need medical attention like you thought I would.”

“That’s good to hear. Did you find the studio okay. It’s kind of tucked away.”

“Yea, I found it alright.”

“
Are you from here?”

“Yup. Born and raised. Take that how you want it. I hated it growing up
here.”

“Really? I loved growing up in Chicago. I loved the people, the el-train, I loved my football team,
and I even loved the ice cold winters.”

“See, I love Chicago too, but the winters are where my love affair it the city ends.”

“Trust me, I understand. But I loved the city. I have a lot of memories – great memories. Bad ones too. I got into a lot of trouble as a teen. I lived with my mother and father, but I was a bit rebellious. Hanging out with the wrong people, the wrong crowd. I was definitely headed down the wrong path. The only thing that saved me was Arthur Davidson, my high school music teacher. He introduced me to the trumpet and my love of music took off from there. I never looked back.”

“
Wow, that’s incredible. A person’s surroundings as a kid really shapes and molds them for the future.”

“I agree. What was it like here growing up?”

“It’s a big city, but everyone knows each other. You’re born here and you see the same people your whole life, then you die.”

“Wow, that’s kind of morbid, don’t you think?”

“Obviously, you’re not from here.”

“
Obviously not,” he said smirking.

“Well, see there you have it. It’s not like Chicago where yo
u see a person once and you’re likely to never see them again. Which in some cases might be a good thing.” We both shared laughter. His hand grazed my knee. I liked his touch.

“See that’s what I’m about.
Seizing the moment. You may
not
see that particular person again, so you only get one shot. You need to make the most of it. I’m not the person who lives with regrets. It eats you on the inside. I like to live in the moment. Live for the now, you know?” I nodded in agreement, even though I my life showed otherwise. “Sometimes I end up with egg all over my face, but at the end of the day or perhaps years later, I can look back and say I took the leap. It may not have worked but at least I gave it a shot – my best shot.”

“
I agree, but I never take that step forward. I’m usually left…”

“Kicking yourself, wishing you had done it?”

“Exactly.” Then there was silence.

I hated bringing up the regret in my life. It was something that I just didn’t share with anyone; not even myself.

“Have you ever been in love before?” he asked, throwing a curveball at me. I wasn’t expecting that one.

“Yes I have.” I was lying through my teeth. I wondered if he could tell. Over the years I’ve mastered the art of lying. How did I become so good at it? There’s no one better to lie to
other than yourself. “Have you been in love before?”

“I have. One of my mentors told me awhile ago that my music
can’t be considered art to never have fallen in love. He was right. My music totally changed once I did.”

“What happened to the relationship?”

“It just didn’t work out. Long distance relationships are hard. They're even harder when you’re a musician. That’s like a double whammy, you know? Most women think all musicians are womanizers or players, but…and I’m speaking on my behalf…I’m really a one woman guy.”

“Yea right.
That’s what they all say.” How many times have I heard this before? I need at least four hands and four feet to count.

“No really. I’m not that type. A lot of guys maybe
, but because I had a loving mother and father growing up, I got to see the bond between a man and a woman firsthand instead of some movie. They had their problems; huge problems and they were on the verge of giving up plenty of times, but they stood together. Not for the love of the children like many people do, but they stayed together because they truly loved each other. They respected the union of marriage and they always told me this…when they said those vows – ‘till death do us part – they really believed it. Marriage wasn’t something disposable. They would fight tooth and nail to make their relationship work. I respected that. I was in awe of that. Don’t get me wrong. I’ve lived all around the world. I’ve traveled to places most people will never get to see. I’ve met countless beautiful women. And I will admit I’ve dabbled in the fruits of being a musician and meeting beautiful women. And Cassie, did I ever dabble. But I woke up one morning in Paris and realized it was all shallow and meaningless. And I didn’t want to live like that. I want what my parents have. I’m blessed to live a life like I do, but when you don’t have a woman to share it with, it isn’t as special. I’m sorry, Cassie, I said a mouthful.”

“No, that was…that was…you don’t hear men speak like that a lot. I appreciate the honesty. It’s refreshing.” I’m not sure how I was able to formulate that sentence. I was literally speechless about what I
just heard. Guys just aren’t up front about their feelings like that. You usually have to pry it out of them. His honesty was so attractive.

“Have you been married before?”

“No, no I haven’t. I want to be married though. What woman doesn’t? It’s ingrained in us since birth. We play with baby dolls and easy-bake ovens – pretending to be mommy. Society grooms us to be brides subliminally.”

“Nice play on words.” He laughed.

“What do you mean?”

“Grooms us to be brides…”

“Oh, I didn’t even realize I said that. But it’s true. We’re prepped for it. But it is a woman’s dream. I would love to but, if I don’t, it wouldn’t be the end of the world.” That couldn’t be farther than the truth. I was terrified about not getting married. I didn’t want to end up like my Aunt Jenna. She still isn’t married. She always claims she is happy being single, but I know it eats her up inside. She’s bitter about it. I can hear it in her voice.

“Society puts too much pressure on women to get married. You know, if they’re not married by age thirty with a house with the picket fence and 2.5 kids and a dog, then you’re a failure. That’s not fair.”

“I know. Who makes up those rules anyways?”

“I don’t know.
Probably someone who isn’t married.” We both shared a laugh.

“You know, you have a breathtaking smile.”

“Thank you, Braxton.” I blushed, flicking my hair back behind my ears.

“Curvy women are my weakness. And you know
, the best curve on a woman’s body is her smile.”

“Okay, I have to call bullshit. I can accept the compliment about my smile, because I agree, it
is
a breathtaking smile…”

“Oh you agree,”

“Hey I’m not afraid to toot my own horn. But this talk about loving big women…c’mon now.”

“Hey it’s true. I love women who are soft and have a little meat on them.” He grabbed my thigh and massaged it to further his point. “I mean, why else do you think you would be here with me?

A deafening silence. The only sound was the squeaking from the chair I was slightly rocking in. My weight was a sore topic for me. The issues I had as a teenager were still something I’m trying to process. Braxton looked at me; he could tell I was a bit disheveled from that topic.

“You know
what; let me play you a song.” He sprang up from the chair and pushed a few buttons and twisted black and red knobs and four instruments harmoniously blew from the speakers. “It’s a rough draft, but I love it. It’s what we worked on earlier today.

I sat back in my chair and closed my eyes. I let the song take me on
a journey. The tempo was slow. The mood was kind of gloomy, but captivating.

“You know it sounds...”

“Shhhh,” he said putting his finger to his lips. “Just listen.”

It was very interesting to see a man create something from scratch and turn it into something magical. It was inspiring. I sat and watched him listen to his creation intensively. For a minute or two Braxton’s body was there, but this soul was not. He was connected to the music for those moments.

He got out his chair, stood over me and extended his hand to me.

“May I have this dance, Miss Cassie?” he said with a velvety voice that absolutely no woman could say no to.

He embraced me and put his muscular arms around my back, my breasts pushed up against his chest. I looked up at him and he refused to take his eyes away from mine. I rested my head against his chest and felt his heartbeat. I wondered if he could feel mine because mine was racing. He squeezed me tighter. His hands clutched my back a bit tighter. I faintly felt the bulge in his pants, he felt enormous.

The scene was intoxicating me. Slow dancing in an intimate studio, listening to jazz, while this handsome man was holding me in his arms – definitely straight out of a black and white movie.

I let the music flow into my soul, listening to the solos from the trumpet and piano weave a story. I wasn’t a jazz fan by any means, but I was slowly being converted. I always liked music that had lyrics. The song he played only had instruments, but it still spoke a language. It spoke straight to my heart. It was almost like his trumpet was speaking directly to me. Braxton’s solo sounded like he was longing for something.

It was easy to see that music was something he took seriously and was really dedicated to his craft and the artistry.
It was very attractive. To see him be so passionate about music made me ponder other things he could be passionate about. If I was a betting woman I’d put money on him to know his way around a woman’s body as well as he did his trumpet. He just had that kind of demeanor.

The song faded away like a crackled leaf into the brisk night. There was a release of tension when the song ended. Though sort of sad, it felt very sexual, very seductive. It changed the direction of the entire evening.

“So, what did you think?” Braxton slowly asked, still holding me tightly. I didn’t want him to let go. This moment felt too surreal, dreamlike almost. This can’t be real. I didn’t deserve this. He’s out of my league.

“I think your body is incredible…”

“I meant the song,” he said smiling. “And thank you. And your body is amazing as well.” I couldn’t have felt more embarrassed. How many times have I made an ass out of myself around him? The roof of my mouth was still healing from the other night.

“
Oh. You mean the song?!? I loved it. It sounded sad though.”

“Sad? I don’t think I would use the word sad.
Melancholy maybe, but not sad.”

“That’s interesting.”
His eyes were locked with mine. The temperature in the room had to be rising as fast as my heart rate was.

“See jazz is open for interpretation. It’s about how it makes
you
feel.” He moved his face closer to me and placed his hand on my cheek, still holding my tightly. I felt safe in his arms, but still unsure about the scenario.

“
Um, do you mind if I use the bathroom?” I asked, pulling away from him.

“By all means.
It’s right through that door.” He cleared his throat from the awkwardness and pointed to the brown door behind us.

Okay, Cassie wake up and snap out this purple haz
e of seduction! He’s playing me. Can’t you tell? This is just too good to be true. I mean, look at him and look at me. He’s this international jazz artist, and you’re…I’m just Cassie. ‘Big as a Castle Cassie’. Remember that? How could I forget? All the boys called me that all throughout high school. Remember the torment? Remember the pain? The hurt? Remember all times I skipped school because I couldn’t bear to be bullied? Remember all the times at lunch how Michael ran up behind me and mushed pound cake in my face? And how could I forget prom. The culmination. Remember how stunned I was that Justin asked me as his date. This was Justin Brennan. Football team Justin. It was too good to be true. I thought I was having a practical joke being played on me. It turned out I was right. The whole night was going better than I ever dreamt. He was a perfect gentleman. We had our own limo, holding hands, opening doors, slow dancing. It couldn’t have been a better prom. I didn’t even think I would ever go to one. That all went down the drain, when on the last night of the dance, Justin and his fellow teammates rained close to ten dozen eggs in front of the entire senior class. It was the worst feeling I had or will have ever known. And none of the students did a thing to stop it. Even kids who I considered friends. They did nothing. Everybody stood by and laughed. I never got over that day; probably never will. And remember what my mother told me after the principal called to tell her about it. I probably deserved it. Remember my mother telling me that? My own mother. And I believed it. I fell for it. Not only did I fall for it, I internalized it. Cassie Douglass - fat girl.