Curves Envy - Alphas Love Curves: BBW Billionaire Romance (5 page)

“I hope you’re right. I wasn’t going to chastise myself for Vince’s sins by staying locked up at home and reliving yesterday’s events,” I say.

“And you shouldn’t. Enough about the fake pilot and his baby momma. I’m starved and I’m ready to order. Hurry and select what you want to eat before the waiter comes around.” Lia is pointing impatiently at the menu in front of me.

As I lower my eyes to figure out if I want eggs or pancakes, I catch the sexy stranger staring at me again. I slightly turn my head to locate the table of models he must be looking at, but we’re surrounded by ordinary people—a couple and their infant child, a bunch of Asian tourists, a group of three elderly ladies and a gay couple holding hands
. Maybe the wind caught my hair and I look like a mess.

“Is my hair okay?” I ask Lia, running insecure fingers through my mane.

“Yes. I love the new color your chichi Fifth Avenue hairdresser selected for you. Your green eyes pop like crazy.”

“Thanks.”
So my hair is not all over the place.
“I’m happy Devin forced me to dye my hair. I needed the change.”

For my twenty-fourth birthday, Devin paid for a total transformation with one of the top stylists in the city. Jean-Pierre Pastorale took one look at me and declared the color and shape of my eyes begged him to transform me in one of my two idols—Adele or Christina Hendricks. Since I’ve always secretly wanted to be a blonde, I selected the British songstress’ sleek contemporary look and my French stylist chopped off my mousy brown hair that fell limply to the middle of my back. I don’t know if blondes have more fun, but they sure as hell get a lot more attention.

“It’s weird…”

“Huh? Something on the menu?”

“No. Don’t turn around, but the guy over there wearing the blue sweater has been staring at me since I arrived.”

Why is it when you ask someone not to do something they do? Lia turns and the stranger smiles when he notices both of us looking his way.
Shit
.

“I asked you not to look,” I say, frowning.

“Whoa.” She turns around and widen her eyes like a kid who’s just seen the Easter Bunny.

“God, now he knows we’re checking him out.”

“How else was I going to see what he looks like? It’s not as if I have eyes in the back of my head.” She smiles. “Do you know Mr. Hottie?”

“No. I’ve never seen him in my life. I thought he was looking at a hot chick behind me, but it seems like all the sexy women are sitting near the windows way over there.”

“Maybe you met him at a fashion event and you’ve forgotten. You have a memorable face with your big green eyes and he’s simply trying to remember where the two of you met.”

“I don’t think so, but it doesn’t matter,” I say, trying to dismiss the whole thing.

I’m about to take another peek in the direction of the stranger when our waiter rushes our way to take our orders.

“Hello, ladies. My name is Richard and I’m sorry to keep you waiting. Have you decided yet?”

“I’ll have the blueberry pancakes and a large latte. Have you decided, Candy?”

I smile at the waiter, concealing my discomfort. “I’ll have the huevos rancheros and I’ll also have a latte, but could you please make mine with a double shot of espresso?”

“Great choices, ladies. No problem on the espresso. I’ll be right back with water.”

“Oh, could I have a freshly pressed orange juice to start?”

“Great idea, Candy. I’ll also have the same, please.”

“Two fresh OJs coming.” The waiter smiles warmly at us before rushing to the cash register to punch in our order.

“Thank you.” Lia and I chime in at the same time as he walks away from our table.

* * *

Lia and I wolf down our breakfast all the while engaged in an animated discussion about her chances of landing a transfer to Prime News’ UK office for a three-month work exchange program. She’s competing with eight other candidates who applied for one of the most coveted positions in her department, but Lia is such a star at her job, I’m pretty certain she’ll be selected. I’ll be honest, I’m dying to see London and it wouldn’t take me long after she’s landed to hop on a plane and go visit her.

“I’ve been meaning to tell you this since you arrived, you look radiant for someone who partied so hard last night.”

“It’s the magic of great makeup. It’s another perk of working in the fashion industry. You learn how to fool people. You should have seen me this morning. I scared Leonardo DiCaprio,” I laugh.

“Your cat gets scared by his own shadow.”

“Good point. I must admit I do spoil him rotten.”

“I love the dress on you. Is it another one of your sample sale finds?”

“Yup,” I say, sitting a little straighter in my chair and lifting my breasts higher. “I hesitated to buy a dress with a print, but all the plus-size designers are creating bolder collections so I jumped on the bandwagon.”

As a plus-size editor at
Sassy
magazine, I not only have the privilege of scooping the latest and trendiest fashion accessories for big girls, but I also am able to hit sample sales before the general public.
Sassy
magazine is a publication for skinny girls, but a few years ago the management made a bold move by deciding to tap into a growing market. Since the average American is not a size two,
Sassy
saw the writing on the wall and stepped forward to capitalize on the needs of curvy women. At the time, I had just lost my grandmother and I had started on my weight loss journey, which I documented on my personal blog. My former boss discovered my blog by chance and when the time came to appoint a new editor to the job, she picked me. I was thrilled and terrified to become so public about my weight issues, but the last eighteen months have been the most satisfying of my life. One of the biggest perks of this job is having my ear to the ground when it comes to better options for plus-size women.

“It’s fun and the little pinkish-red lips printed all over are so flirty. Not to mention this dress accentuates your massive boobs so well. I wish I had your features,” she says, tracing a circle in the air around her breasts. “I’m only a B cup, but then again it could have been worse, since Lexi is even smaller than I am.”

“Leave Alexis alone. She’s the same size as you and you know it,” I gently scold her with a smile on my face. “Lia, you have so much going for you. You’re smart, stunning and you have the best hair—ever. I only have big eyes and big boobs.”

“You’re crazy, Candy. I don’t know why you refuse to see your beauty. How can you be so supportive of all of your readers and put yourself down at the same time?”

Lia is right. I love being the advocate for plus-size women at
Sassy
magazine and I’m the first to uplift my blog readers when they send me emails about their own weight loss journey or when they’ve dealt with bullying like I have so many times in my life, but I fail when it comes to being kind to myself.

“In any case, you look beautiful and I love the fuchsia bolero sweater on you. The color brings out the pink lips on the dress.”

“Thanks. I do feel somewhat pretty in this dress.” I first saw this round-scooped dress on Facebook. I belong to a Curvy Girl group to take the pulse of my clientele and a few months ago one of the members shared this flirty black dress with a round skirt like they used to wear in the fifties. What I loved the most about the design was the cute flirty print. When I saw it hanging on a rack at a sample sale at a designer’s showroom, I couldn’t resist. Although the gorgeous ebony plus-size goddess who modeled the dress dared to show off her arms, I prefer to hide mine with this bolero.

“I feel like I made no effort in my understated outfit compared to yours.” Lia looks down at her head-to-toe black outfit. “I was going to select a colorful dress and shimmy my ass into some shapewear, but then I remembered it was Sunday and I thought fuck the girdle.”

We both laugh.

“I don’t think anyone calls it a girdle anymore, Lia.”

“Well, my mom and grandmother say the name might have changed to something sexier, but it’s still not the most comfortable thing to wear and it itches like crazy—especially in the winter when my skin is so dry.”

“I won’t argue with you. Yeah, I gave those up a long time ago.”

“What are you wearing under your dress? I need something to hold it all in,” she says, sucking in her stomach at the same time she sucks in her cheeks and bulges her eyes out.

We lose it laughing and call attention to ourselves in this small eatery. From the corner of my eye, I notice the drop-dead-gorgeous guy is still looking our way and I place a finger on my lips to try to contain another burst of laughter.

“Shhh, everyone is looking at us. I think we’re disturbing the hot guy who’s been eyeing me.”

Lia leans in to take a quick peek and we both giggle again.

“So what if he’s ogling at you. Your dress calls for attention and your Adele-blonde hair is so sultry.”

“Thanks,” I say, smoothing my hair. “I like the cut, color and style a lot. I was afraid to go there, but you know Devin, he pushed me out of my comfort zone by reminding me it’s my duty to look as polished as the women I praise in the magazine or on my blog.”

“You’ve got to love Dev, but you haven’t answered me yet. What are you wearing under your dress if you’ve given up wearing girdles?”

“You know shapewear and I don’t mix.”

“Oh my God, I remember the story about your date night and the shapewear that prevented you from getting laid.”

“Lia, keep your voice down.” I muffle a laugh. “I don’t need all of Manhattan to find out.”

“Seriously, Candy, you handled the situation so well. I would have crawled under your area rug and died.”

“I nearly did die of embarrassment. What a nightmare,” I say, bringing both hands to my face to hide my rosy cheeks.

Like most women, I used to swear by Slimx Shapewear while my weight was tumbling from a fuller two hundred ninety pounds to a healthier me. I was struggling so much with trying to fit my body into clothing, shapewear became my lifeline until I met Sam. I still cringe every time I relive that night.

I met Samuel McGinley before dating George. The quiet computer analyst was a sweet and adorable guy I connected with at the grief counseling group I had been attending for two years. He had also lost his parents. His had been killed while in Mexico in a botched robbery. We spent a lot of time together as friends and after a few months things got hot and heavy between us. Sam didn’t seem to mind the fact I had dealt with my parents’ sudden and tragic death by medicating myself with food.

“I still can’t believe you forgot you had put on armor before going to work.” Lia bursts out laughing again and I can’t help but do the same.

One night, Sam drove me home after we had gone out to grab a burger and instead of waving him goodbye like I normally did, I invited him up to my place. Yeah, you could say I was desperate for attention and sex—even though Sam wasn’t my type.

“In my defense, I was so consumed by the moment and by the fact I was making out with a cute guy, I totally forgot I was wearing the Open-Bust Mid-Thigh Body Shaper under my top and pants. I used to wear that thing every day because it flattened my stomach and made me feel thinner. The only problem is Slimx is not something you should share with a potential lover.” I stammer on the last part before laughing again.

“I can imagine the look on the poor guy’s face when he tried to grab your boobs.”

“Ohhhh. Don’t remind me.”

At some point during our naughty foreplay, Sam reached under my top to fumble with my breasts and he stopped cold when he felt the layers of material. I was mortified. I got up in the dark to try to shimmy out of my Slimx, to no avail. I think the embarrassment of the moment caused my hands to shake. In an attempt to be the perfect gentleman, Sam tried to help me undress, but after a few minutes we both burst out in laughter at the hilarious situation. Needless to say, being trapped in a bodyshaper doesn’t bode well for a night of passionate sex. Sam stayed around for coffee and at some point he confessed that maybe next time I might consider going without the body contraption because it was an instant mood-killer.

“At least he was nice about it. Other guys would have been jerks.”

“Lia, his words hurt me so much. The look on his face said it all. I think what saddens me the most was when he said he didn’t mind if I was a big girl, but the bodyshaper was a deal-killer. If an alien could have swallowed me whole right then and there, unlike Sigourney Weaver in her iconic role as Lieutenant Ellen Ripley in
Alien
, I would have welcomed the wrath of the scary creature from outer space. Since then, I’ve hesitated wearing these bodyshapers even if it meant feeling the discomfort of my body wiggling under my clothing.”

“Are you saying you’re not wearing any support right now?”

“Not exactly. Thank God for Sexy Curves lingerie. They create fashionable collections for big girls. I can still get some support and I no longer feel like an encased sausage under my clothing. No more embarrassing moments and no more itching.”

“God, I need to get me some Sexy Curves.”

Lia’s words make us lose it. I slap my hand over my mouth to try to contain my hysteria while Lia throws her head back, unashamedly laughing her ass off as if no one else is watching us.

“Jesus.” Lia folds over, holding her stomach.

We laugh to the point of tears and the entire restaurant starts laughing with us, not knowing why the two of us can’t contain ourselves.

“Oh, God. I needed the laugh after yesterday,” I barely get out through my chuckles.

“No matter how many times you recount your girdle story, I can never hold it together.” Lia is roaring with laughter again. “It’s like the scene in
Bridget Jones’ Diary
when Hugh Grant and Renee Zellweger try to get it on, but she’s wearing granny panties and since they’re both too tipsy to remove them, they end up not getting it on.”

“Yeah, but my situation is worse—it was real life and not a Hollywood production,” I say, biting my lower lip. “Come on, let’s get out of here. We’ve already created quite a scene.” I grab my coat and the handbag I dropped at my feet.