Size King

by S. C. Adams

  We change at her place and go out into the chaotic world that is Saturday night in L.A. The roads are littered with brake lights, and the sidewalks are filled with groups of well-dressed Angelinos on their way to party.

  We go to a place called The Flower Garden, a new bar that opened in the town of Silver Lake near Emma’s apartment. It is crazy busy at the Garden, with a line of people waiting for their turn to order drinks.

  Instead of waiting in line, I follow Emma up to the front of the bar. I feel weird cutting in front of everyone, but I have to admit that it’s better than waiting for twenty minutes just to get a drink. Our drinks are free because she knows the bartender.

  “What have you been up to?” the bartender asks Emma.

  “My girl here and I just finished with a shoot,” she replies. “We killed it.”

  “That’s awesome!” he says. “I saw that bikini ad you were telling me about last time I saw you.”

  “What’d you think?” Emma asks.

  “I loved it,” he tells her as he hands her our drinks. “I’m so proud of you, girl.”

  A female bartender approaches Emma. “That’s where I know you from! You’re the girl in that K-Plus swimsuit commercial.”

  “That’s me,” says Emma with facetious humility.

  “You look so incredible in it,” the female bartender says. “I’m glad K-Plus has been so good to you.”

  “What’s your name?” the male bartender asks me.

  “That’s Jillian Fellows,” Emma answers. “She moved here from New York today. She’s here for the same reason I’m here.”

  “Hi, Jillian,” people around the bar say to me.

  “Hello,” I reply timidly, waving.

  “Jillian might be signing on with K-Plus,” Emma brags. “They took a whole bunch of pictures of her and loved every one of them. She’s so in—my agent even wants to represent her!”

  “Congratulations!” they tell me. “It’s nice to meet you!”

  “Get to know her now before she’s famous,” says Emma. “She’s going to blow up.”

  I am happy to meet nice people and to be sipping on a sweet, delicious beverage. I am also beyond thrilled at the notion that someone is offering to be my agent on my very first day in L.A., let alone that I am apparently on the verge of landing a dream contract that many would envy.

  Despite the wonderful transpiring of events, I can’t help but feel a sense of emptiness. At first, I assume it is because of how I feel in that particular moment—I don’t enjoy all the attention we are getting, and I feel more claustrophobic the longer we stay by the bar. I can barely breathe. I want to sit and take a timeout to pinpoint what precisely it is that’s making me feel empty, and fix it.

  Then, from across the room, I spot one of the most attractive men I’ve ever seen. He has just walked in: tall, dark, handsome with brown hair, and nice clothes with a sexy smile. I wonder if a guy like him would notice me in the packed bar.

  22

  Mason

  Luke and I arrive at The Flower Garden around ten-thirty that Saturday night, ready to get wasted and try something new. The place is so crowded that we can’t even see the bar from the front entrance. The patrons are so loud that I can’t hear the music over the sound system.

  “What’s the game plan, bro?” Luke asks.

  “It’s super fucking busy here tonight,” I say loudly.

  “No, it’s not,” Luke retorts. “Have you ever been here during the summer?”

  The mass of people begins to dissipate, and I can see the bar. I guide us toward it, bumping into numerous people during the journey.

  I notice that there is a considerable crowd of people around two women standing by the bar. I can’t tell what they look like, but they both have elegant, long hair—one blonde, one dark. By the time we seep through the people and make it to the bar, the girls are gone. Feeling a sense of disappointment, I take a seat at the bar, surprised that I am able to find any seating at all within the madness.

  Luke joins me, and we order our drinks. We look around the bar, checking out the people, scanning for women.

  “You see those two girls by the bar a moment ago?” I ask Luke.

  “Yeah, I am wondering who they were,” he replies. “They were definitely somebody. I didn’t get a good look at them.”

  “Me neither,” I say. “You think they were famous?”

  “I don’t know,” he says. “I’m looking for them.”

  I am looking for them, too. We down our liquor as we keep our eyes peeled, readying for our second drink.

  Then, I find her. My eyes finally land on the popular blonde—seated only a few meters away from the bar in a sexy, low-cut top and a skirt, and looking right at me.

  Her skin is light and creamy, her hair is beautiful and voluptuous, and her body is curvy and highly arousing. She is heavy, but she is tall for a woman. Her lips are full and inviting, and her luscious green eyes are powerful enough to render me braindead. We keep looking at each other shamelessly and with tangible desire being exchanged between us.

  “Who are you looking at?” Luke asks.

  I show him. Luckily, the popular blonde is not alone. Her friend, also a heavy girl with a curvy body, is seated right next to her, shooting glances in our direction.

  “Those aren’t the girls we saw get crowded by the bar when we got in, is it?” he wonders, squinting conspicuously.

  “I believe so,” I say. “Who do you think they are?”

  “I have no clue,” says Luke. “My money’s on either they work in social media or maybe promotions.”

  “Are we being honest about what we do for work?” I ask.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Aren’t we going to talk to the girls?” I ask.

  I can’t stop looking at her. The gorgeous blonde seems to only have eyes for me, too, and I’m not the only guy in the place checking her out.

  “Let’s go have some fun, yeah?” I encourage.

  “You want to go after them?” Luke asks in evident disbelief.

  “Are you kidding?” I ask. “Every other girl here looks like the same twiggy bimbo I’ve seen a thousand times. I said I wanted a change. She would be a great change.”

  “Which one?” he asks. “Look, if you want me to be your wingman, at least let me have the short one, the one with darker hair.”

  “Deal!” I quickly agree, grateful that we aren’t going to have to fight over who got what girl.

  We down our second drinks, each thinking of what strategies we will use when talking to them.

  Once we see that the girls are running low on their drinks, we order four drinks and decide to try and push our way through the dense crowd.

  “You know,” Luke begins. “Already, the more I’m drinking, I’m starting to think those girls don’t look half bad. They’re kind of cute for big girls.”

  “That’s an understatement,” I retort. “They’re beautiful. And, the blonde—she’s stunning. We keep looking at each other.”

  “Get it, player,” Luke cheers as he hands me two of the drinks.

  “Do you think either of us have a shot?”

  “Bro, come on,” he says and laughs. “It’s not even a question. We could get both of them if we wanted. We’ll have their panties off before closing time.”

  We meander over to the girls’ table with the drinks. I am agitated by the behavior of the bar patrons, but I make sure to keep a cool composure. Once most of them see us with our hands full of booze, they move out of our way. We are smooth and charming, even with the people that move at a glacial pace. We are never rude whenever we are out. We found that being charming doesn’t just help us when it comes to hooking up with women.

  I’m not sure what my endgame is for that evening. I agreed to go out with Luke because he kept insisting that we drink at The Flower Garden. I had no intention of trying to get laid or even showing genuine interest in any woman. My blonde is quickly becoming the center of my day. I just know t
hat I want to have a good time.

  We finally get to their table. Everyone is all smiles.

  “Good evening, ladies,” I say to them.

  “Hi, there.” The dark-haired woman giggles. “What are you boys doing with all those drinks?”

  “We were hoping we might join you,” says Luke. “We saw your glasses were running a bit low. What do you say?”

  The blonde beams at me. “Sure. Take a seat, gentlemen!”

  We sit down on opposite sides of them. We are all ready to play.

  I extend my hand to the woman who had caught my eye. “I’m Mason.”

  She reciprocates, giving me her fair hand to shake. “Hi, Mason. I’m Jillian.”

  By the time the clock strikes midnight, the four of us are all hammered. We’ve been drinking and talking together from the moment we sat down with them.

  We have only chatted for about five minutes before Emma, Jillian’s friend, suggests that we all move to a quieter section of the bar. We can barely hear ourselves over the extreme volume in the place. Once we find a secluded booth in the back near the jukebox, we take our seats. Jillian is still facing me, and Luke is sitting beside me.

  We learn that both women are plus-size models, which doesn’t surprise me, and they are looking for adventures and are single.

  “How old are you?” Emma asks me.

  “I turned thirty last month,” I answer. “What about you, ladies? You can’t be older than twenty-five, surely.”

  “You nailed it right on the head,” says Emma. “I just turned twenty-five.”

  “I’m at my second time of turning twenty-five,” says Jillian.

  “Ah,” says Luke. “Did either of you go through a quarter-life crisis?”

  Sometimes, Luke asks peculiar questions. Fortunately, they roll with it.

  “I didn’t, but I did freak out when I found my first grey hair,” says Emma candidly. “I’m going to live to be a hundred and fifty, so I haven’t spent a quarter of my life yet.”

  “I got really drunk and slept with my ex,” says Jillian. “That was my quarter-life crisis.”

  “Hey, we’ve all been there.” I chuckle.

  “I’ve regretted it every day since it happened,” she says. “But that’s in the past. Tell me more about yourself, Mason.”

  I notice Luke and Emma engaging in their own private, flirtatious conversation. It is every man for himself, sink or swim.

  “I was born and raised in L.A.,” I tell her. “A few years back, I decided to move to a little town up past the San Bernardino Mountains called Wrightwood. I started my own delivery business, and it’s been expanding every year.”

  “That’s really cool,” she says. “How do you and your friend know each other?”

  “We’ve known each other since high school,” I say. “Our families are both in the entertainment industry, so we flew in similar circles.”

  “Really?” she asks, intrigued. “What do they do?”

  “Well, they were in the industry. They died a while back.” It’s a lie, but it’s simpler than the truth.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry,” says Jillian.

  “We weren’t close,” I say. “So how do you and your friend know each other?”

  “We went to school together,” she answers. “She came out here a few years ago. She’s been modeling for a while. Today was my first time at an L.A. photo shoot.”

  “No kidding,” I say.

  “I just moved out here, actually,” she continues. “I flew in earlier today.”

  “Are you serious?” I laugh. “That’s really cool! Well, welcome to Los Angeles! I hope you like it.”

  “Thanks!” she says. “Things are moving pretty fast for me. I’m on the verge of signing my first full modeling contract. I’ll hopefully be working with Emma.”

  “You got hired to be in K-Plus?” I say, impressed. “Things really are working out for you. Let’s have a toast!”

  I raise my glass, which she reciprocates. Before I can improvise a clever toast, Luke and Emma interject.

  “What are we toasting?” Luke asks with excitement, clearly drunk. “Is it a fucking celebration?”

  “We’re making a toast to Jillian,” I reply. “To getting a great contract going with K-Plus, and for getting off to a great start on her new life here in California. Cheers!”

  We clink our glasses together and all down the remainder of the liquor we have on the table.

  “That’s crazy,” I say, shaking my head. “Here one day, and you’re already taking over. Leave some for the rest of us!”

  “You don’t even live here anymore, so it’s all mine,” she says, winking.

  “Have you found a place yet?” I ask.

  “No, I’m staying with Emma until I find one,” she says. “How do you like living in the mountains?”

  “I love it,” I answer honestly. “It’s quiet. Everything you could ever want is still within driving distance, and you get temperatures other than hot and sunny.”

  “Doesn’t it get lonely living in the mountains?”

  “For me, not really.” I shrug. “Admittedly, I do come back down to L.A. pretty often. Someone has to cause trouble with Luke over there.”

  “I don’t know much about small towns,” she says. “But I’ve always found them quaint and cute. I’d be afraid of it getting too cold!”

  “It does get chilly, especially around this time of year,” I say.

  It is almost winter, but there’s no way to tell just by looking out a Los Angeles window. It has been sunny all day, and the highs are in the eighties.

  “You probably have snow, right?” she asks.

  “We don’t have any snow right now,” I say. “We might be getting some snow Tuesday, though. That’ll be interesting.”

  “Do you live in a cabin or a mansion?”

  “I’d call it a sizeable house. It’s bigger than your average suburban house, but it’s not enormous. It’s smaller than the house I grew up in.”

  “Well, I’d like to see it sometime,” says Jillian. “I’m from New York. We don’t have mountains over there.”

  “Hey, come over anytime!” I blurt out. “My house is yours.”

  “You’d really have me over?” she asks with skepticism. “You don’t even know me. I might be lying about myself.”

  “Are you lying about yourself?”

  “No. I would never lie to you. Or would I?”

  “I’d have you over right fucking now,” I say loudly. “Are you kidding? You’re sexy as hell!”

  “Am I?” she asks. “What’s sexy about me?”

  “You’re a real, full, curvy, enticing woman that could get any guy in this place, but you’re choosing to drink with me.”

  “I could just be using you for drinks,” says Jillian.

  “That’s fine. I could just be using you for sex.”

  “Ha!” She laughs. “We’re having sex, are we?”

  “Well, not here in front of everyone, obviously,” I tell her. “Later.”

  “At your mountain mansion?”

  “I’m way too drunk to drive to Wrightwood tonight,” I say. “And a Lyft would cost three hundred dollars. Nah, Luke’s got a house by Venice beach. We could have hot, passionate sex in the moonlight by the ocean. What’s better than that?”

  She is blushing, biting her lip. She knows I am a scoundrel.

  “Or we don’t have to do that,” I say. “Perhaps I misread our energy.”

  We sit there quietly for a few seconds, both trying to think of the best thing to say, and struggling in our inebriation.

  “Do you have any kids?” Jillian asks me.

  “No ma’am,” I answer. “Had a scare once, but I don’t really think about having kids all that much. Hope that’s not a deal-breaker for you or something.”

  “Not at all,” she assures me. “I’ve never really thought about children, to be honest. I don’t want to think about that for another five or six years, at least.”

  �
�I’ll drink to that” I nod.

  “So, you prefer a nice curvy woman over these sticks all over L.A.?” Jillian asks. “You’re a good-looking guy. You could probably hook up with an Instagram model if you wanted.”

  “I prefer K-Plus models.”

  Suddenly, I begin to feel Jillian’s leg rubbing against mine under the table. Her foot is gliding extremely high, slowly but surely making her way toward my lap.

  “You didn’t misread our energy, by the way,” says Jillian.

  We all continue our discussions amongst ourselves, carrying on while the bar only gets more crowded. As the hour approaches one, I think we all have a simultaneous urge to flee from the madness and find somewhere even more private than our now not so secluded booth in the back.

  I lean in close to Jillian. My lips are centimeters from her delicate ears.

  “You want to get out of here?” I ask directly into her ear.

  To my surprise, she immediately agrees. She keeps nodding, smiling wider the closer her foot is getting to my rock-hard dick.

  We all decide to take separate cabs back to Luke’s house. My cab arrives first, and there is no telling when Luke and Emma’s is going to pull up. However, we are all glad we made the choice we did.

  Jillian and I are all over each other from the minute the cab left The Flower Garden. I give the driver the directions to the beach house, and from the moment the car is moving, so are our hands, lips, and tongues. I resist the urge to send my hand up her gaping skirt, while she has her way with my throbbing bulge throughout the entire ride.

  23

  Jillian

  I’m not sure what time it is, or where in L.A. I am, but none of that matters. All that matters is the intense pleasure whenever I feel his touch—the touch of the mysterious mountain man who had me from the moment our eyes met.

  When we get into the house, we stumble a few feet over to the couch, collapse, and pick up where we left off in the cab. Finally, we have more room, more freedom for our arms and legs as our bodies become more acquainted. Our bodies are always moving, and they are ready to physically connect.