The Lighter Side of Large (42 page)

Mika wears a tuxedo - sharp as usual, except for the dumbfounded expression. Tiresa shimmers beside him in a light green and gold strapless sheath, which looks like glittery snakeskin. I can’t help rejoicing that I look glamorous, while she strays a bit on the gauche side. “Bella, Jae,” Mika nods, breaking the awkward silence.

“Hello,” Jae says in a flat tone.

“Fancy meeting you here,” I pipe up.

Mika looks me over from head to toe, not bothering to disguise the lust in his eyes. I glance at Jae, who is seething. I press myself against him in hopes of calming him and letting him know who I stand with. All four of us are caught in a bubble of tension and knowing and anticipation. Tiresa pops it.

“How’s business been, Jae?” she asks with a smirk. “The media coverage must be giving your PR department a lot of sleepless nights.”

“Not at all,” Jae replies, grim.

“Really?” she tosses her hair over her shoulder. “I would have thought otherwise.”

I glance at Jae, wondering what Tiresa is referring to, but Jae’s eyes are fixated on Tiresa. Boring into her with daggers, I should say. “So, who’s watching the kids?” I address Mika.

“Our regular babysitter,” he replies. “Got them set up with a movie and pizza. They’ll be happy.”

Tiresa keeps up the chatter with Jae, but I hardly hear a word. I glare at Mika, whose eyes are drinking me in.
Now he notices me,
I fume.
Now he’s undressing me. Damn Mika and damn Amanda. Leave it to our exes to try to ruin our night.

“Is Amanda here?” Tiresa asks Jae. “I’m sure her view on matters differs from yours.”

I wrench my attention away from Mika to Jae, who turns pale.
How does Tiresa know Amanda?
I wonder.

“Did someone say my name?” a voice sings over our shoulders and suddenly Amanda is standing in our little group. “Oh, there you two are,” she says, pushing us apart and slipping her arms in ours. “I’ve been looking for you. Our table is just over here. Will you excuse us?” she says to Tiresa and Mika without looking at them and whirls us away. She guides us to a table, where Pierce is already seated and talking with another couple. Jae holds out a chair for me and as I sit down, I catch Jae mouthing, “Thank you” to Amanda, his eyes full of gratitude.

“What was that about?” I whisper to him as the emcee for the evening addresses the ballroom from the stage.

“I’ll tell you later,” he whispers back, placing his hand on my leg under the table. “Let’s enjoy ourselves for a while. Then we can really enjoy ourselves.” He gives me the lightest kiss on the lips before turning his attention to the speaker.

Throughout the night, I can feel two pairs of eyes on my back: one throws daggers at it, the other heats it up.

•

When we reach the magnificent rosewood and brass doors of our suite a couple of hours later, Jae gives me another kiss. “Are you tired after your long day?” He fumbles with the card key to open the door.

“No,” I say, slipping my arms around his neck as he opens the door and I catch a strong whiff of floral fragrance.

“What is that scent?” I ask.

The mischievous smile reappears on Jae’s lips. “Let’s find out.” He holds open the door and I step in - and gasp.

The scent emanates from a huge bouquet of two dozen red roses on the desk. Around it and on the nightstand, white candles of all different shapes and sizes flicker. A card is stuck in the flowers. I peer at it in the dim light. It has four words: I love you – Jae.

Jae comes from behind and puts his arms around me. “Do you like it?”

“Do I like it?” I repeat turning to face him. “I love it.” And we kiss again, this time not holding back, our hands searching over one another. But I finally pull away. There are some practical matters to take care of first.

“Mind if I step into the bathroom for a moment?” I ask.

“Take all the time you need,” Jae says.

I hurry to the bathroom to use the loo, brush my teeth, and take down my hair. It’s then I realise I don’t have the lingerie with me. I step out with the intention of retrieving it so I can put it on and make a proper first intimate impression. But Jae, who already has his jacket, tie and shirt off, looks at me longingly.

“You look even prettier with your hair down,” he says, coming over to me and embracing me with another passionate kiss. This time the flames between us burn even hotter and we both move toward the bed. Jae lays me down, his hands fumbling at my gown’s back zipper. My hands reach down to unbutton his pants. But when he unzips my gown and pushes the one-sided sleeve off my shoulder, I pause.

“I have some lingerie, courtesy of AmandaE,” I tease. “Want me to put it on?” I sit up. As great as I know I look in this gown, I know I don’t look half so good naked.

Jae shakes his head. “No. I want to see just you.”

“Well,” I still hesitate, “should we blow out the candles before we set the hotel on fire?” If I can’t wear something, lights out is the next best thing.

Jae shakes his head. “I wish you could see what I see, because you are a beautiful woman with a beautiful body, and I want to see every inch of it. I don’t want you to hide it.”

“But I’m used to hiding my flab,” I joke, still uncomfortable. “There is a lot of me which isn’t suitable for viewing.”

“Bella,” Jae leans forward and kisses me. “Have you seen my backside? It’s so white, the space shuttle can see it from orbit. NASA phoned me once asking if I could be a runway light when their funding ran low.” I laugh one of my boisterous laughs. The visual of Jae mooning the space shuttle is too funny. “I can think of a lot of places on me which aren’t suitable for viewing, but you,” he kisses me again, his tongue running gently over mine, “I can’t think of anything I don’t want to see. But if lingerie makes you feel more comfortable, then wear it. This night is about you.”

And that’s exactly why I am here. As much as Jae longs to see me naked, he leaves the decision up to me. He respects me. And that’s more than I ever received from Mika or any other man.

I stand up and slip the gown off my shoulder, letting it fall to the floor in a heap of chiffon sunshine. Then I unhook my strapless bra as Jae watches. When I reach for my panties, he stands up and pushes my hands aside and pulls them off. Kneeling before me, he places the lightest of kisses on my thighs and belly, making a circle around my pubic bone. I run my fingers through his hair, tousling it as he continues the kisses, running his hands up the back of my legs and squeezing my buttocks.

Ever so gently, he pushes me onto the bed. The waves rock me back and forth as I lay back and he spreads my legs. I’m already dizzy with pleasure and wet, but he worships me with his mouth until I become a writhing mess of sweet juices. I gasp and moan, losing myself in the sensations Jae is creating. The intensity increases exponentially and suddenly I am losing control, crying out and gripping his hair as I come, strong and hard with his mouth on me. Jolts of electricity or spasms of delight - I don’t know which, but they shake my body. For the first time in my sexual life, I don’t care what I look like naked or that flab is jiggling from my thighs and arms and belly. I lose myself to him completely.

And then Jae rises up and quickly steps out of his trousers and boxers. He opens the nightstand draw and pulls out a box of condoms, taking one out of the package and slipping one on. A naked Adonis, he takes my breasts in his mouth and starts the process all over again. We roll over the bed, our bodies entwining, and when I am on top, I reach down and take him in my hand and guide him inside me. He groans with pleasure as I thrust him hard over and over. Being on top is a novelty: before, I was so heavy, my legs would give out after a minute and I was barely able to move. But now I move back and forth easily and climax again.

I collapse on Jae and he slides his hands up and down my back. “Bella, I love you,” he breathes into my ear. I draw back and take one of his nipples in my mouth, at first tracing it with my tongue and then sucking hard, thrusting my pelvis back and forth. He grabs my hips. “Stop, stop. I don’t want to come yet,” he gasps.

But when we finally do come together, I think I am going to die from the pleasure. Jae shudders from the power of it as I lay next to him, panting. He rolls over and gathers me in his arms. He’s as sweaty as me as we stick together. “I love you,” I finally reply. And I do.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

“Loving yourself is an everyday choice.”

FROM BELLA’S BLOG
http://www.thelightersideoflarge.com/ch24

With a bounce in my step and without a bounce from my belly or butt, I leave the radio station after an interview - the third one this week - about my blog, newspaper column and first feature article in Fab You. I hum a happy tune as I get in my car and drive to my late morning appointment with the plastic surgeon.

I can’t believe I am me, a rising star, a liked person whose wit and honesty in words and cartoons is capturing the attention of a nation - and all about my humorous misery as a fat woman.

And now I’m about to get rid of a little more of that misery. The weekend at the Rutherford with Jae was a dream come true - even, I recalled with a chuckle, with the waterbed tsunami I created on Saturday night when, in a moment of playful zeal, I pounced on the bed and nearly sent Jaw flying off it.

Jae doesn’t mind my flab, and for that I love him all the more. But I’m the one who looks in the mirror and sees the protruding belly; not only the mirror, but now the television. Re-watching the interview with Channel 11 the other day reminded me that I still have ten kilograms to go to reach my weight loss goal. They say the camera adds five kilos to your weight, but I don’t believe it. I believe the camera tells the truth and everyone is in denial. And with less time to hit the gym, what with writing and drawing and interviewing, I know there’s only one way to deal with belly fat. Thanks to the advance on my book deal, I don’t have to ask Mika for the money for a tummy tuck and liposuction and skin tightening on my arms.

The plastic surgeon’s office is in the same office building as Dr Wilson’s. After waiting over an hour past my appointment time, I am finally admitted to an exam room and change into one of those abominable dressing gowns with the open front, hoping I don’t have to wait much longer. My hopes are fulfilled when Dr Carver bursts through the door. “Good morning. I’m Dr Carver,” he says without apology for the delay in my appointment.

“I guess you didn’t have a choice about what field you would specialise in,” I reply with a chuckle.

Dr Carver leans against the counter in the corner, looking at my medical forms. “Yes, well, we can’t all be brain surgeons, can we?” he replies with a note of sarcasm. “So you want a tummy tuck and skin removal on the upper arms?” he asks, looking up from the file at me.

“Yes, just a nip and a tuck.”

He doesn’t get the jest. “Is this because of financial reasons? We have payment plan.”

I fold my hands in my lap nervously. “I don’t understand.”

Dr Carver crosses his arms. “You’re going to need more than a ‘nip and a tuck’ to achieve the results you’re looking for.” He pulls a pen out of his shirt pocket. “May I?”

“Um, sure,” I relent. Dr Carver goes to work drawing on my face and neck. “Unless you want to look like your grandmother in ten years, you’re going to need this excess skin removed under the jaw. And the skin under your eye and on your brow has got to go.” He moves to my arms and sketches on the flab. “So, you were how many pounds overweight? If you’re going to cut the skin off here, you’ll need to on your inner thighs, otherwise you’ll look unbalanced. Stand, please.”

Dr Carver proceeds to draw all over my body. By the time he’s done, I look in the full-length mirror on the wall. I resemble a notepad that’s been doodled to death. “It will take at least six months to complete, but by the end, you’ll be perfectly proportioned. And our payment plan makes it feasible, so there’s no excuse not to look your best.” And according to Dr Carver, I don’t look my best. A tummy tuck and underarm flab removal doesn’t get me there, either. If my aim is perfection, I’ll have to go under the knife multiple times to get there.

“Let me show you what you’ll look like,” Dr Carver offers and takes a photo of me with a digital camera and uploads it to a laptop on the counter. My picture appears on the screen in some imaging software. I don’t like what I see, which is a more slender me yet still stumpy.
Are my hips really still that big?
I wonder. I thought of them as smaller when I look in the mirror.
I can sit in a seat comfortably, can’t I?
“According to my recommendations, you can look like this…” he clicks all over the photo, dragging the image tighter and tighter.

And then suddenly, the new me stares back at me and I gasp: I look like Tiresa. I am transformed into a curvaceous, sultry Samoan siren. No amount of working out is going to achieve this result, not unless I devote my life to working out, which I can’t, not with my schedule. And all for - how much did Dr Carver say this is going to cost? If my book sells well, the royalties can surely pay for all the surgeries I’ll need.

I practically skip from my car to my house when I return home. My first surgery is set, starting with the original tummy tuck and arm work. But to think I’ll get more! I’ll be sculpted to perfection. Simon will never again be able to insult me. And Jae - I pause for thought as I search for my house key amid the jumble of other keys, which now includes the key to Jae’s loft. I can see his expression even now when I tell him, because I’ll have to eventually. Even if I don’t and just show up one day with enhancements, he’ll know, so might as well tell him from the get-go. Despite his opposition to plastic surgery, he’s just going to have to deal with it.