Curvy Girls Do It Better

by Scarlett Avery

  “What did she say?” I ask, surprising myself by how engaged I am in his story. I guess a selfish part of me is dying to find out how someone else dealt with losing a loved one.

  “One of Nate’s teachers had returned some of his essays to his mom. She read one my best friend had written about friendship.” For an instant Max fights his emotions. “Nate had written this long essay. I’ll be honest, I don’t remember all the words and he even admitted in his paper he needed some help from his girlfriend to fully express how he felt about us, but the conclusion remains with me to this day. He said our friendship had taught him how to live, love and matter. He was this star athlete who stood six foot five inches tall—a beefy guy with more muscle mass than any champion MMA fighter—and he was describing our friendship with such depth. Jasmine asked me to honor her son’s memory by living, loving and by only doing meaningful things. Those three simple wishes I took to heart and I’ve been on a crusade ever since to make good on my promise to her. Even though she died two years ago, I’ve still kept my word to her.”

  “You’re right. They are simple wishes, but they are so meaningful.”

  He nods his head in agreement and brings my hands to his lips. The tenderness of his actions catches me off guard.

  “I guess I still haven’t explained how I got inked.”

  I shake my head and lean in towards him to listen to the rest of his tale.

  “Nate died one week after I had turned nineteen and for six years I hated my body. The scar was a reminder of my loss and the unsightliness of my skin made me feel disfigured, like a monster. For my twenty-fifth birthday, my older brother Gabriel suggested we take a trip to New Zealand and Australia. For a year, we picked up as many odd jobs as we could to save up enough for our adventure on the other side of the planet.”

  “Wow. You’ve been a globetrotter your entire life,” I marvel.

  “I wouldn’t go that far. I shut down and refused to leave the US upon my return from the Dominican Republic. This was my brother’s way of pushing me out of my self-imposed boundaries. After my South Pacific trip, I couldn’t wait to explore more of the world.”

  “I envy you. I’ve traveled across the US, but I haven’t traveled internationally as much as I’d like.”

  “You’re still so young. You have a lot of time ahead of you. If you hang out with me more, I’ll make sure you see more of this wonderful world we live in.” He winks.

  “If I decide to hang out with you more, I’ll hold you to your promise.” I wink back.

  “You’re feisty after some bacon and eggs.”

  “Funny.”

  “My brother was the one who initiated the trip and a few days after arriving Down Under, Gabe suggested I conceal the scar behind a tattoo. At first I thought he had gone mad. My parents would have been furious. It’s not as if I was part of a gang or anything that edgy. I laughed it off until he revealed he had already talked to Mom and Dad about it and they were unanimous. They all felt I needed help to stop grieving my friend—six years was long enough.”

  “It’s not fair someone else would put a time limit on your grief. You’re entitled to mourn your friend as long as you need.” Suddenly I’m quite irritated by the fact his brother and his parents tried to shake the sadness out of him. Trish and my aunt Caroline tried to push me out of my misery numerous times, but there was nothing to be done about it. The pain of losing my parents nearly ate me alive and there weren’t enough pep talks in the world to make me see things differently.

  “You’re so spirited and passionate. It’s almost as if you have firsthand experience.”

  Gosh. I’m so not ready to share such a tumultuous part of my past with him. It’s too soon. I don’t even know where this is going.

  “I’m sorry. I’m being too involved—too empathetic.” I’m suddenly riddled with guilt for allowing myself to transfer my own emotions on to him. This is about his best friend Nate. Not about Mom and Dad.

  “Not at all. This is a very difficult part of my past. I felt compelled to share it with you because I could see from your eyes you were intrigued even though you didn’t dare to ask.”

  “Why did your brother suggest getting a tattoo in New Zealand? Why not go down the street to any tattoo shop and get inked here in New York?”

  “This tattoo was more about healing than making a statement of how much of a bad boy I was.”

  “I don’t get it.”

  “Shortly after we set foot on the other side of the planet, my brother asked our tour guide to seek out a Maori tattoo artist to cover my scar with ancestral symbols of courage to change my perception of my past.”

  “I don’t know much about tattoos and I know even less about the aboriginal people of New Zealand. I must confess you’re the first tattooed man I’ve ever slept with.” I blush at my own inexperience.

  He smiles before tenderly stroking my cheek. “The Maori are the indigenous people of New Zealand. They have a form of body art, known as moko but more commonly referred to as Maori tattooing. The art form was brought to the Maori from Polynesia and it’s considered highly sacred. For the Maori, tattooing was, and for some still is, a rite of passage, which meant it was highly revered and ritualized. The great thing about Maori tattoos is their uniqueness—no two tattoos are alike. Maori tattoos are one of a kind, like people. They are always highly intricate and detailed and display the craftsmanship and artistry of not only the artist but of the Maori culture.”

  “This all sounds so fascinating, but it must have been painful as hell.”

  “You’re adorable. Your horrified look cracks me up. I won’t lie, the first touch was biting, but every pinch of the needle moving over my skin reminded me of my commitment to my best friend’s mother. Even when the pain threatened to devour my resolve, I remained stoic. The tattoo wasn’t about me, it was about Nate’s memory.”

  “Nate was lucky to have you as a friend. Your tattoo is magnificent. It’s been hard for me to take my eyes off of it—it’s like nothing I’ve ever seen before. It’s so much sexier than a chick on a bike, a cartoon or a horseshoe.”

  For the first time since he started sharing his heart-wrenching story, he lets out a genuine laugh. “I love your flawless skin. You don’t have any scars to hide, therefore unless you were a fan of tattoos, there wouldn’t be any good reason for you to get inked.”

  It’s too bad you can’t tattoo an aching heart. Maybe it would have helped me deal with my loss.

  BOOK 2—CURVY GIRLS DO IT BETTER

  Chapter Seven

  I’m standing in line at Mazama coffee shop for my daily shot of caffeinated elixir. It doesn’t matter how early you try to sneak into this place, it’s always jam-packed with New Yorkers desperate for a cup of java.

  Since seeing Max, I’ve had to rely on coffee a lot more to perk me up because he works me so hard I’m constantly exhausted from his sexual prowess. I can’t believe I’ve seen Max every single night this week—it’s still so surreal. It’s taken me a little time, but I’ve accepted the fact I might be one of the luckiest women in the world to have accidentally bumped into a gorgeous and successful man who happens to adore women who have a little skin on their bones.

  I never imagined submitting myself so wholly to a man could allow me to experience such heart-stopping orgasms. I was never confident enough to demand certain hedonistic pleasures from a man, which is why Max’s domineering nature in the bedroom makes me lose it so much. It’s as if he knows what my body craves even before I do. Everything about our sexual interludes is naughty, raunchy and downright dirty. The man is so gifted, I could climax simply by listening to him whisper in my ear. I still remember how Vince used to boast about how big an Italian stallion he was. Well, he’s got nothing on Max. Vince never filled me up the way Max’s huge dick does—Max could fuck me twenty-four seven and I still wouldn’t get enough of him.

  Someone is speaking, but I’m still too caught up reliving my frolics with Max and I don’t catch the guy’s question.


  “Are you going to stand there with a grin on your face or are you ready to order?”

  “Huh?” Shit. I’m so not paying attention.

  “I have thirty desperate New Yorkers waiting in line behind you for their morning fix. What will you have, sweetie?” The barista’s abrupt question wakes me up from my reverie.

  “Oh. I’m sorry. I’ll have an extra-tall, extra-hot, skinny chai latte with a double shot of espresso and I’d like it half sweet, please.” Does anyone order a simple cup of coffee with cream anymore? Nowadays, coffee sounds more like a chemistry project than a dark cup of goodness.

  I barely have time to order before my peevish barista is back. Something must’ve happened within the last few minutes because he’s now smiling at me. Since I’m in such a good mood, and I’ve been fucked so well, I return his smile before paying and grabbing my salvation in a cup. I wish him a good day and wiggle my way out of the busy coffee shop.

  I’m not usually an early riser, but since I stayed over at Max’s place last night, I had to leave extremely early because he had to be at the office at an indecent time for a conference call with a German magazine. There’s something quite invigorating about strolling down the streets of Manhattan this early in the morning while sipping on my favorite caffeinated drink. I might be tired as hell, but I’m determined to make the most of this day. Carpe diem, right? Being up and about alongside the Big Apple’s movers and shakers makes me feel like anything is possible today.

  As I ride the elevator up to my office, I can’t help but marvel at how quickly things unfold. Eight days ago, I hadn’t planned on a trip, but in forty-eight hours I’ll be on a plane heading south. I’m really looking forward to visiting the Sunshine State for the first time in my life.

  When I push through the doors, I’m taken aback by the quiet of the office. It’s usually so noisy and animated, but most of my colleagues are still waking up while I’m ready to tackle a few unfinished articles for upcoming editions. I might have to get to the office before everyone else more often.

  The workweek has been packed with the humdrum of working in the fashion industry while trying my best to stay out of the way of Maleficent—aka my boss, Jennifer Lau. The only remotely interesting thing this week, other than the multiple toe-curling orgasms Max rewards me with every time he lays his hands on me, will be spending the evening with my best friends. I love those three more than life. Since I’m leaving for Miami in a few days and I’ve been pretty much MIA because Max has been keeping me so busy, I haven’t hooked up with Devin, Lexi, and Lia in what seems like an eternity. Tonight, we’re finally catching up. Each one of my friends has been eagerly texting me to try to find out the juicy details behind my affair.

  I get to the office ninety minutes early in order to get as much work done as possible before being cooped up in the conference room with eight of my colleagues to listen to Jennifer for an hour. Not only do I want to cross things off my list before the weekly meeting, I also want to get there early enough to snatch a spot as far away as possible from my irritating boss.

  When I arrive at my desk, I’m greeted by a large box sitting on the edge on top of a pile of back issues. Who left me this package? I drop my bag and chai before opening a piece of paper folded and taped to the box. It’s from Jennifer. What does she want now? Before I even read one word she wrote, I’m already rolling my eyes knowing in my heart this box will become a thorn in my side.

  I read the note twice, intrigued by her unexpected request. She’s suggesting I take this box home to test these new so-called cleansing pills. They are supposedly all the rage on the Internet and she claims our readers will, no pun intended, eat them up to help them deal with their weight issues. I thought we were supposed to celebrate every woman regardless of the number flashing on her scale. My former boss, Christine, frowned upon us testing any product we’d have to ingest. We’ll gladly test makeup, perfume, skincare products, clothing, accessories and shoes, but we have never been allowed to sample diet pills.

  Jennifer calls it a cleansing product for optimum health, but that doesn’t change the fact this is another way of telling plus-size women they are not good enough just the way they are. Great, my day hasn’t even started and she’s already managed to put me in a pissy mood. I grab the stupid box and dump it on top of my filing cabinet, determined to ignore it until Jennifer waltzes by my desk to make sure I received her instructions.

  I gulp down a steaming hot shot of my coffee and it instantly perks me up. I turn on my computer, ready to tackle an article I’ve been struggling with. It’s been kicking my butt for the last week and I’m determined to get it done within the hour, but my phone rings. I lean across my desk to fish for my phone, hoping it might be Max calling. It’s Devin.

  “Hey, Dev.”

  “Hey, sex goddess. Did you sleep at his place or did you go back home last night to be with your long-time lover, Mr. Leo DiCaprio? Is it safe to talk?”

  “First off, thanks for the compliment—Max has been sexing me up like a queen. Second off, my cat is totally jealous of all the time I spend with Max.” I giggle. “Thirdly, I did sleep at his penthouse, but I’m already at the office ready to take on my day because Max had a conference call at a ridiculously early time.”

  “My God, the man has changed your ways in only one week. Have you ever been up this early in your life?” I can only imagine the grin on Devin’s face right now.

  “I take offense to your assumptions, Dev. I’m sure I must have been up at the crack of dawn at some other point in my life, I simply can’t recall it at this very second.”

  We both laugh.

  “Sweetie, I was calling because I got the text you sent me this morning and I couldn’t believe the time stamp. I wanted to make sure another Candy hadn’t hacked your account pretending to be an early riser.”

  “Yeah, I texted all three of you to make sure we’re still meeting tonight at your place.”

  “Oh, trust me, we’re so meeting tonight. King Kong attacking New York would be the only valid reason we would cancel hearing about your X-rated love affair with your rich boy toy. I’ve asked Lia to bring a lot of wine to ensure we keep you talking. I want all the juicy details, girl. You’re not allowed to leave anything out. Your sex life is better than most gay guys’.”

  “Heck, I didn’t even know it was possible to have this type of sex life.”

  “I’m warning you right now, Lexi is extremely jealous of the few cryptic text messages you’ve been sharing with us this past week. I think your story has awakened the dormant sex kitten in her.”

  “It’s about time. I was worried about the girl. She hasn’t talked about being with a man in ages and I was starting to be quite concerned she might have renounced sex altogether. She spends way too much time working and not enough time having fun. She’s too young to deprive herself of love and affection.”

  “I couldn’t agree with you more. I’ve had this pep talk with her so many times, I simply can’t go there with her anymore. She has to make the decision on her own. I understand about her horrible past and I do sympathize, but she’s suppressing a very important part of herself.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll remind her tonight.”

  “Are you going to be able to survive this day without seeing your man?”

  “Well, he does have a meeting in a few hours on the top floor with the executives of the holding company, who apparently are extremely excited by his financial commitment for the next few years. Since Max was willing to buy full-page ads in Sassy magazine and advertisement banners on the website every single month for the next twelve months, the top honchos are beside themselves. I hope I’ll be able to sneak out to have coffee or a quick lunch with him. He said he’d text me when his meeting was over. So I might be able to see him during the day and I won’t have to wait until later tonight to steal a kiss from him.”

  “Good for you. Sounds like you’ve got it all figured out.”

  “I don’t know if I
have, but I’m psyched about the opportunity.”

  “Has he alluded to where the kinky relationship is heading?”

  “If you’re referring to us dating exclusively, he’s not brought it up so far and I’m too much of a chicken to rock the boat. Things are great right now—scratch what I said, things are amazing—and I’m willing to be a little patient, which is completely out of character for me when it comes to men.”

  “Do you want more?”

  What a loaded question. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t. Everything seems to be running smoothly—maybe too smoothly. Given my poor record with men, I’m kind of waiting for the other shoe to drop, Dev.”

  It’s been impossible for me to stop daydreaming about Max and what we share. He’s been preoccupying my thoughts every waking moment since I bumped into him at the Bymark hotel, but I’ve learned a harsh lesson from Vince—sometimes when things seem too perfect, it’s because they are.

  “Maybe the only shoe you’ll hear dropping is yours as he fucks you hard until you forget your own name on his über-expensive dining room table overlooking Central Park.”

  “Don’t be silly. You have the layout of his penthouse all wrong.”

  We both laugh.

  “So we’re definitely on then?”

  “Abso-freakin’-lutely.”

  BOOK 2—CURVY GIRLS DO IT BETTER

  Chapter Eight

  At ten-thirty, I head to the smaller conference room we usually use for team meetings with my iPad, my notepad and my third extra-tall coffee of the day. Max worked me so hard last night, there doesn’t seem to be enough caffeine in the world to perk me up today. I cannot afford to doze off during Jennifer’s important weekly team meeting. I don’t need her to freak out on me in front of everybody.