Island Curves (A BBW Romance) (2 page)

“Well, don’t y’all look pretty?”

I stood near Susan, who stared at Ms. Laird,
starstruck. “She’s way better looking in person. She’s so
thin.”

“You’ll never smell as good as you do now,”
quipped our hostess.

Someone approached with a handheld computer,
and they took a look at it together. A crewmember hovered, his
camera held on his shoulder. Several more were mounted on tripods,
with operators behind each, wearing baseball caps and bandanas
around their necks to protect them from the searing, late afternoon
sun.

An assistant held up a clapperboard. “Let’s
see if we can get this in one take.” The smirk on his face
indicated that he thought otherwise.

“Here we go,” said Charlene. “Your
adventure’s about to begin.”

In the end, it took five takes before the
director was satisfied with the footage of the newest cast members
of
Contest Island
. Our congenial hostess gave us a simple
looking map to our campsite, and we grabbed our things and headed
out in a large group of eighteen players. We would be competing
together in challenges every day, and the bottom two contestants in
each match would be up for Panel, which would see one of the two
voted out. The object of the game was to make it to the final three
with the hope of sharing the three million dollar prize with one
other contestant and being named the Ultimate Champions.

As we traipsed through the vegetation, I
spoke with Susan and Loren almost exclusively, while a camera
operator followed, recording every word. When agreeing to do the
show, I knew my life would be an open book for however long I
managed to stay in the game. I didn’t mind being shadowed by a
bulky looking recording device, knowing that I was an attractive
woman, albeit slightly overweight and top heavy. The younger,
sexier girls would undoubtedly receive the most airtime. I hoped to
fly under the radar as much as possible and survive for two weeks.
That was all I needed to pay the bills.

Mr. Muscle was in conversation with several
other equally buff looking men, having made a tight alliance among
the athletes. The game entailed a combination of sports and brain
challenges, consisting of questions, puzzles, mazes, and a plethora
of other contests. Our first competition was tomorrow with an
evening Panel and the first contestant voted out.

As we neared our camp, a dozen people took
off running to be the first on site. I loitered with Loren, who did
not seem as enthusiastic about a thick forest of palm trees and a
patch of sand. The azure ocean stretched out before us with its
white powder beach and Godly perfection that was paradise. It took
my breath away, and I felt a moment of gratitude that I was
actually here.

“Good God, look at ‘em.” Loren shook her
head.

The contestants were huddled together,
talking at once, trying to figure out who would be our leader,
which I thought was ridiculous since none of us knew each other.
Mr. Muscle was in the thick of things, clearly wanting to be the
chosen one.

“We need to build the shelter off the
ground,” he said.

Another contestant said, “I have the map to
the water source. Who’s coming with me?”

“I will,” said a short blonde.

I found myself with Loren and Susan gathering
firewood and wandering through the jungle, after having changed
into a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. We spent the rest of the
afternoon helping assemble the shelter, which basically consisted
of small tree trunks tied together with rope that had been provided
by the show. We had flint and steel to make the fire and a machete
along with a metal cooking pot and a small tarp.

At one point, I came up behind a group of men
talking, their camera operators hovering nearby, recording the
conversation. Mr. Muscle, David, was saying, “We’re six guys
strong, and I don’t see why we can’t make it to the end. Some of
these girls shouldn’t even be here, to tell you the truth. I say we
vote ‘em out at the first opportunity. Let’s make this a man’s
game, like it should be.”

“Uh, I hate to burst your bubble, David, but
Susan, Veronica, and Beth aren’t gonna be pushovers. Those women
are ready for the challenge—”

“Aw, bullshit. That chick, what’s her name?
Marissa? She won’t last three days. From the looks of it, she’s
never set foot in a gym.” This statement was met with laughter and
agreement. “Like I said, we gotta vote out the weak. Should be easy
pickin’s. High-five me, dudes. We own it.”

Disgusted, I retreated before I was seen, my
camera guy following me. “Arrogant dickweeds,” I muttered to
myself. “Ugh.” I returned to the camp, the shelter having been
erected in record time, as the sun began to dip behind the horizon.
“The guys are having a pow-wow over there.”

“Yeah, we saw them walk off together,” said
Chelsea, who was brown-haired and big boned. “I figured they’d form
an alliance.”

“David seems to think they should vote out
the weak. My name popped up in the conversation.” I sat on a rock
near the fire, which blazed, having been recently lit. “They think
we’re easy pickings. They want to vote us out at the first
opportunity.” This announcement was met with stone-faced
stares.

“Fuck that,” muttered Loren. “I ain’t goin’
down without a fight.”

Emma, the smallest of all of us, said, “They
might have the brawn, but it takes more than that to win the game.
We’ll kill them in the social aspect.”

Veronica got to her feet. “Come on, Ash.
Let’s look for some mangos and eavesdrop a little.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“Damn,” muttered Susan. “I didn’t want it to
be a boy versus girl thing. Why can’t we compete equally and let
the best win? I hate to divide everything based on gender. That
David’s an asshole.”

I couldn’t agree more.

That night, I slept between Susan and
Chelsea, on the hard, round trunks of baby trees, which was like a
form of medieval torture. I wore my waterproof jacket and socks,
with shorts and a t-shirt, and, after a horrendously uncomfortable
sleep, I woke to find a series of mosquito bites on my arms and
legs. Everyone complained bitterly about the bug bites and aches
and pains that accompanied sleeping on hard wood.

In the jungle, I changed into my one-piece
bathing suit. I’d brought a bikini, but I was far too shy to wear
it yet. A crewmember loitered in the trees. “Are they gonna show me
naked on primetime?” The camera operators weren’t allowed to talk
to us, but I wouldn’t let that stop me from chatting with them.
“When I use the bathroom, will you be filming that too?” I couldn’t
wait to get in the ocean and wash off. I felt filthy after spending
the entire day and night outside in the elements. I needed to brush
my teeth, and my tummy rumbled with hunger.

I was followed back to camp, where the women
had assembled breakfast, which consisted of boiled water, rice, and
mangos. I ate my portion and headed for the ocean, with Loren in
tow.

“The guys are going fishing. Production said
the challenge is after lunch.”

I waded into the warm water, marveling at how
clear it was. I could see my feet. “This is amazing.”

“I’m starving.”

I laughed, “I’m hoping to drop some pounds. I
never did lose the baby weight.”

“You look just fine, girl.”

I grabbed my tummy. “Uh, not really.”

“This ain’t a beauty contest.”

My blonde hair floated in the water, as I
held out my hands. “I miss my little girl.”

“I miss my kids too. I’ve never been this far
away from them before. I can’t even call to check in. I hate that.”
She lowered her voice. “You and me should make it to the end. We
need the money worse than any of these people.”

“I’d be happy with just the Per Diem.”

“Don’t limit yourself. You can do better than
that.”

I eyed her skeptically. The deep, rich tones
of her skin glistened with water. “I guess.”

“We’re in it, to win it, hon.”

“If you say so. I’m going under.” I scrubbed
my face with seawater and rinsed my hair. Then I gargled and
brushed my teeth with my fingers, spitting into the ocean. Several
women had joined us. We congregated, floating in the shallow, clear
water while bathing and chatting. I dipped my hand into the crotch
of my swimsuit and cleaned this area as best as I could.

To my dismay, David and Ashley approached,
wading out to us. She’d been attached to him since we arrived,
following our ‘King’ around, worshipping the ground he walked
on.

“Doug caught some fish, guys. We can chow
down when they’re done cooking.”

I said nothing, as I stared at him, hating
the fact that he was entirely too handsome and arrogant. He dunked
his head into the water, washing his face and hair. The muscles in
his arms rippled with the movement, his pecks shifting beneath the
skin. Ashley, seeing an opening, jumped on his broad shoulders,
giggling.

“Get off, me, jungle-monkey.”

“I—” He grabbed her, dunking her under the
water. She came up sputtering and squealing with delight. “You
shithead!”

Several cameramen loitered, wet to their
chests, with waterproof cameras perched on their shoulders.
Disgusted, I waded to the shore and sat in the sand. Loren joined
me.

She glanced at the horizon, squinting. “Well,
we know who the stars are, don’t we?”

I snorted. “Ugh.”

Our first contest at midday was a nightmare.
The production team had assembled a massive aquatic challenge. We
were required to maneuver across a narrow piece of wood to a
floating barge, which was unstable, and then climb mesh ropes to
collect puzzle pieces. Each contestant was responsible for his or
her own success.

I fell from the floating barge twice, the
second time bruising my thigh. I struggled to climb the rope, my
lack of upper body strength an issue, and when it came time to
finally assemble the puzzle, Mr. Muscle had already completed his,
thereby winning the challenge. The rest of us were forced to
finish, unveiling the final two contestants. I had the dubious
honor of accompanying an older man, Ramon, to Panel, where one of
us would be voted out.

Back at camp, Loren tried to console me.
“Honey, you did the best you could. That goddamn challenge just
about fried my ass. I got rope burns in weird places.”

I stared at the ocean, feeling miserable.
“I…sucked so bad.”

Her arm went around me. “I think you’re gonna
be all right tonight. From what I heard, the women are voting Ramon
out.”

“I hate to be the first to go home.” Our
camera guy hovered, making sure he got every word. I was slowly
getting used to being shadowed wherever I went. Since I was on the
chopping block, they wanted to record every bit of drama they
could. Knowing this, I said, “I came here for my little girl. I
feel like I let her down.”

“They’ll be other challenges, Marissa, honey.
They won’t all be physical. You’ll get your chance to shine.”

“If I’m still here.”

Beth and Veronica approached. “You’re not
going home tonight,” whispered Beth. “We’re voting out Ramon.”

I felt a spark of hope. “Really?” Could I
even trust these people? I’d only been on the island twenty-four
hours. My stomach rumbled. “I’d like to stay a little longer.”

Veronica said, “David’s got that movie night
prize for himself and his buddies; the little shit. He’s prancing
around camp like he owns it.”

Competition winners also won other prizes,
which they could share with a limited number of people.

I stood, brushing sand off my butt. “Well,
I’m gonna take a walk.”

My camera guy said, “I need to interview you,
Marissa.”

“Sure.” I led the way down the beach and sat
under a palm tree. I had only been exposed to the elements for one
day, and I’d already begun to tan. “Ask what you want.” One of the
producers stepped from the foliage, which made me jump.
Jeez.
These people are hiding everywhere.
She held a clipboard,
sporting an enormous straw hat, and a white streak of sunscreen on
her nose.

“Can you tell us how you feel about being in
the bottom two?”

“It sucks, but I’m not surprised. I coulda
done better.”

“Who do you think will vote for you?”

“To keep me?”

“Yes.”

“I hope Loren and Susan. I only met everybody
yesterday. They could all be lying to me, for all I know.”

“Who do you respect the most?”

“Loren and Susan. Wayne and Greg are all
right.”

“Who do you consider your biggest
threat?”

“Probably David.”

“How do you feel about him?”

On, he’s cute, arrogant and…sexy as
hell…but…”Um, he’s a male version of a prima donna. This island
isn’t big enough for all of us and his ego.”
That better be a
goddamn sound bite
. “Ashley’s totally up his butt. Those two
are like Barbie and Ken.” A peal of laughter escaped me; the mental
images were funny, yet entirely accurate.

“Who do you think has the best chance to win
the game?”

“I’d watch Loren. She’s a smart one. She’s
playing with her head, which is something I’m trying to do.”

“Do you miss your daughter, Marissa?”

That question had caught me off guard, and my
eyes watered. “Yeah.”

“Would you care to elaborate?”

“She’s why I’m here. Life’s been kinda hard
for us. I wanna win for her, but…it’s tough. Being here is harder
than I thought.”

The producer checked off something on her
clipboard. “Thanks, Marissa. I think we got it.”

“You wouldn’t happen to have a granola bar on
you, would you?”

“No, I’m sorry. You know we can’t hand out
food.”

“Bummer.”

Panel that night was on a boat situated near
the coastline. We climbed into the catamarans and paddled out to
the vessel, the air moist with unshed rain. The clouds had been
building all day, threatening to open up on us, adding to the
misery of the experience. Dinner had been rice and fish, but
because there were eighteen people needing to eat, each portion had
been tiny. We also had wild mangos and papaya, but it hadn’t been
enough, and my stomach rumbled distractingly.