by Ruby Madden
3. favor or goodwill. Synonyms: kindness, kindliness, love, benignity; condescension.
4. a manifestation of favor, especially by a superior: It was only through the dean's grace that I wasn't expelledfrom school. Synonyms: forgiveness, charity, mercifulness. Antonyms: animosity, enmity, disfavor.
5. mercy; clemency; pardon: He was saved by an act of grace from the governor. Synonyms: lenity, leniency, reprieve. Antonyms: harshness.
Prologue
* * *
{ GREG }
Greg snuck quietly into Grace’s apartment, as he usually did on Sunday mornings. He put the bagels he’d bought on her kitchen table and next to them, an envelope with her name written on it.
He walked softly from her small kitchen through her living room and to her bedroom door. It was cracked open. He slowly opened it further so he could peek in on her and stepped in, very quietly, not wanting to wake her.
Greg peered down at her. Grace was soundly sleeping, curled up and cozy in her bed.
“I hope I’m doing the right thing and I hope you’ll forgive me someday…” Greg whispered out loud, mostly to himself, into the quiet of Grace’s bedroom.
Grace’s grey-headed lovebird, Romeo, rustled in his cage, acknowledging Greg’s lowered voice.
Typically, they’d drink the espresso drinks from Stumptown Coffee that he’d also brought, and munch on toasted bagels with cream cheese, lox, capers and onions. Eventually, one would drag the other into the shower where they would enjoy each another carnally.
Around one or two pm in the afternoon, properly fed from their Sunday brunch, clean from their shower, and pleased and satiated from their mid-day sex, they’d make their way to the local park for a stroll or to a bookstore or maybe to a café where Grace would read and Greg would do his homework.
He thought back to that first time, the one that had made this a bit of a tradition for them.
“Get out! You love lox and bagels too?” Grace had semi-squealed while gently smacking him with her down pillow.
“Of course, it’s a New York classic brunch, what’s not to like?” Greg leaned in for a kiss, once he’d wrestled the pillow from her. They’d just spent their first carnal evening together and he’d had the pleasure of waking up in her bed.
“I’m so hungry…” She’d purred into his ear.
“Can’t imagine why? What is this, romp number three about to happen?” Greg pulled her in to him for yet another kiss.
“Serious, Greg. I’m famished. I need to get showered, get coffee and get fed. Like NOW.” Grace stated, disentangling herself from his hold and slipping out of her bed.
Reluctantly, he’d climbed out of bed and followed her to the bathroom. He watched her sexy curvy bottom as she bee-lined straight for the shower. He’d joined her in the shower where they’d played together yet again, all oral, before getting dressed and heading to her favorite bagel spot in Portland.
Greg wised up and decided to bring the bagel and lox fest to Grace. That way, he could keep her fed and satisfied in more ways than one. The sex between them was amazing. So hot.
Today was different. Today, he was ending it.
They enjoyed each other’s company, being silly and playing around. Lovers or casual fuck-buddies, more or less. But there wasn’t any passion, nothing ardent. It was as if there was precious little emotionally connecting Grace to him.
But why? He’d puzzled over this…
It wasn’t meant to be and now he understood why.
He’d come to terms with the startling truth and finally decided to do the honorable thing. He would end it with Grace so that she could have what she truly desired, the man she truly loved. As much as it pained him to let her go, he’d man up and be a gentleman. He’d put her needs before his and cut her loose. Hope for the best.
Greg knew he’d be broken-hearted and sad, but he also knew he couldn’t pretend any longer. He just simply didn’t have it in him to play the façade any longer.
He’d miss Grace, her appetite, sexual and otherwise. He’d miss the laughs and the playful teasing, when she got silly. How she read all the time and walked around oblivious to herself and her beguiling loveliness.
He wouldn’t miss the sadness, or the underlying unhappiness she tried to hide or cover up. He wouldn’t miss noticing that faraway, distant gaze when she would drift off, lost in her thoughts.
Greg hadn’t understood why Grace seemed this way. He’d thought it would pass and that he would come to know her or understand her better.
Instead, it persisted.
Until one night, the randomness of events lined up. That fated occurrence that once happens, can no longer be denied. The moment when it seems the clock-hands of the universe itself have reached down into a mere mortal life to manifest something pivotal. When occurrences line up, undeniable.
Coyly hidden inside the simplest of exchanges.
“You know Felix, food is a function of living. It is as much about survival as it is about sensuality, but that’s all it is. If breast feeding was our first introduction to food as a means of satisfying a desire, it’s the only way we can succeed – if we desire. But it’s also our first sexual experience as human beings. Sex and food, Felix. That’s what it is. You just want to fuck me. And I’m not ready to jump into bed with you right now…”
~ Fifi (Fiona) from the movie, Short Order
{ CLAY }
Six Months Earlier…
Clay saw Grace for the first time through the window of the coffee shop that he was sitting in, typing away on his work laptop. She came walking down the street and into Moonstruck Chocolate, a gourmet chocolatier shop in Portland’s trendy NW 23rd neighborhood.
He was just about to take a sip of his mocha when he paused to take in the breathtaking presence and beauty that was Grace. What stood out immediately about her were her long, curly, honey-blonde tresses that never seemed to end. That and her deliciously curvy body. But when he peered further, he sensed a sweetness of disposition that was altogether uncommon.
Intriguing.
Clay worked as a Sales Account Director for a sportswear company and was bored with the overly thin, diet-and-exercise obsessed women he worked with every day who seemed to have lost all pleasure in food and eating. He’d suffered through enough corporate co-worker luncheons with his female colleagues to know well enough what they’d order, long before the menu was opened or the server arrived.
Salad after salad after salad.
He wondered how many were secretly anorexic or bulimic and pitied the woman who couldn’t just let go and enjoy herself a bit. A little bit of padding would make most of them look sexier, in his honest opinion.
A handsome, athletic man with a lot of charm and wit, he found himself constantly being chased by women who he just didn’t find attractive – not by his standards.
In his late twenties, he knew what he liked and disliked. He absolutely deplored going out on dates with Barbie types. He’d sit there and imagine ordering the most succulent steak sided with the biggest baked potato ever and smothering it in butter, and sour cream to then feed them.
He knew it was somewhat warped, but that was what he wanted. He wanted to witness them enjoying their-self, enjoy their food. It was ridiculous, he knew… but still, he could fantasize right?
He also knew what the media said about obesity, but he had his doubts. He’d read much of the research too, knew that certain industries equated extra weight with certain death. Clay wasn’t so sure. To him, the key issue was the way people approached their food. Or how sedentary their lives were. It didn’t seem fair to blame all societal health issues on the shoulders of the overweight. It seemed it was the last socially acceptable form of prejudice and he found it disturbing.
Patiently, his eyes glued to the entry of the chocolatier shop, he waited for the golden-haired woman to exit. He was wondering what tasty treats she was purchasing inside. His curiosity was stirring him in contem
plating silly attempts and efforts to ‘accidentally’ make her acquaintance, somehow – some way.
While lost in his juvenile contemplations on how to respectfully meet her, his cell phone started to ring, dashing his day-dream and bringing him back to reality. Clay reluctantly answered it.
“Clay speaking.” He said.
“Hi Clay, glad I caught you. I wanted to check in with you.” Steven said. One of Clay’s newer Sales Reps was about as hungry as they came to the world of corporate sales. He was like a tick on Clay’s ass. One that made him a lot of money.
“So, about the Stanton account, we think it’s a go. Good prospects, the numbers add up and we found a goldmine hidden in…”
“Can we get that one scheduled soon?” Clay interrupted Steven, quipping into his cell phone, eager to end the conversation.
“Sure. I’ll confirm it with them and send you the invite.”
“K. Please do. Sorry, I know we were going to discuss the agenda for tomorrow’s meeting but I have something else that has come up. Let’s table it for later today.” Clay said.
“No problem, that works. I have another report I want to run. It will help the stats...”
His subordinate’s voice droned on and Clay barely listened to him as the lovely golden-haired woman had stepped out of the chocolate shop with what he was certain was a hot cocoa in her gloved hand and a small bag with the signature trademark of the chocolate shop.
She had a large smile on her face and he watched her as she literally stopped, took a sip of her warm beverage, close her eyes as if she was in heaven and lick off a bit of whipping cream that was on her lips.
Suddenly interrupting his subordinate, “Send me an email with the details once you’re done. I’ll review the stats.”
“Certainly.”
“Good, talk later. Bye.” Clay ended the call, his attention still riveted on the golden-haired woman.
He’d never followed a woman in all his life, but that was exactly what he was just about to do as he hastily gathered up his belongings and bee-lined for the door and out into the chilly Pacific Northwest weather.
{ GRACE }
Grace took in a deep breath of the cool, crisp late fall weather of Portland. It would soon be cold enough for gloves, scarves and hats. She loved this time of year in her favorite city on the West Coast.
Today, she was taking the day off from work and had decided to treat herself to a few private indulgences. She’d been craving a cinnamon hot cocoa and a couple of Mayan chocolates from her favorite chocolate store. She was so premenstrual, she felt as if could devour an entire chocolate cake if given the chance.
Her plans for the day were simple enough, she wanted to hop on the Portland Streetcar, make her way to the Pearl District and go to Powell’s Bookstore where she could peruse for cheesy, escapist romance books and find a cozy nook to sample them in.
Some much needed distraction was the order for the day.
It had been too many weeks of simple, daily, life stresses that had piled up one on top of the other of late. Being a Guest Relations Manager at one of Portland’s most exclusive boutique hotels was demanding, especially when almost every man who checked in created ways to interact with her in the hopes of soliciting far more in the way of ‘services’ than was legally allowed.
Grace was accustomed to the admiring and lust-filled glances of men. It started when she was a teen. In her early twenties now, she was tired of being objectified. Besides, she didn’t have as much sexual experience as most women her age. Not, because she didn’t want to…
Just that she was afraid.
It certainly wasn’t for lack of men interested in her. For Grace, it was truly awkward to frequently receive that type of attention and interest. She didn’t know what to do with it most of the time.
She disliked the dating-mating game and wasn’t big on the dance-club or bar scene. She far preferred the cozy comfort of her apartment, snuggled in a soft throw, sitting on her sofa reading a book or watching a movie, munching on a favorite treat.
Sure, she got lonely – but how would she ever be able to explain to anyone? Explain to a man interested in her that all of her sexual encounters had been less than good? Some, outright awful.
And one night that had ended very badly…
Grace wondered if she was cursed or jinxed?
As she waited for the Portland Streetcar in the crisp weather, she was grateful for the warmth of the hot cocoa between her gloved hands. She brought the beverage to her lips and nursed from it, the chocolaty, milky goodness filling her tummy and warming her from the inside out. The type of satisfaction she felt was akin to post-orgasm. When the peak of pleasure has happened and that feeling of contentment is what remains.
If she couldn’t have the often taken for granted sensual pleasures of sex, then she would make do with her love of food. Sweet food in particular. Her taste-buds provided her with nearly as much pleasure as her clit and a good vibrator, not that she expected most to understand.
Her thoughts went to a somewhat taboo idea in her mind and she wondered if she really had found a way to keep all these lecherous men from hitting on her all the time?
Grace fantasized about being plumper.
She’d heard about this idea of gaining weight intentionally a few years ago and her thoughts would frequently go there. Unlike what every magazine and marketing or advertising agency in the country would have her believe, Grace thought that plus-size women were incredibly beautiful. She secretly envied their plentiful bodies and found herself imagining what it would feel like to be so plump, plush and filled out. Was there a satisfaction in being so soft and curvy? So round?
It felt like she was playing with fire, so socially unacceptable was the perception of being overweight. From the chubby to the plump to the very obese.
But really, was it anyone’s business but one’s own, how she desired to appear and her relationship with her own body?
When it came right down to it, she didn’t want to be penalized for simply enjoying and appreciating the pleasure of food. The simplest and most basic of all desires. The need, the want to eat and be nurtured. To nurture and share with another. It was very simple, what was all the fuss about? Why couldn’t Americans have a less complicated relationship with food and one that was more relaxed like Europeans?
She also wondered if it would give her some reprieve from all the unwanted male interest and attention? Would they finally leave her be and set their lecherous sights on other, thinner women?
Based on everything the glamour women’s magazines wrote – yes, she’d finally be left in peace from all the horny douche-bags who would never grow up and become men but would forever be guys.
Grace was contemplating this when she noticed a handsome stranger nearby who had strolled up and was now waiting for the streetcar. She realized that rather than gazing at her, he was looking keenly at her beverage.
Odd, she thought to herself.
When he noticed that she had seen him looking, he smiled quickly and pulled his gaze away as if he was embarrassed to have been caught.
Grace found him attractive. He had a sporty, mischievous look about him. Besides, he seemed like he was about to devour her? Or maybe her drink?
Either way, she found herself rolling back and forth a bit on the heels of her new rain-boots, adjusted the earplugs and volume to her iPod while doing her best to avoid looking in his direction again.
But why not?
It’d been a while since Grace felt what she and her Grand-Mother liked to refer to as insta-chemistry. That very rare occurrence of meeting someone that you are instantly attracted to and click with.
Just then, the Portland Streetcar arrived, its familiar hum signaling that the doors were about to open so that its occupants could un-board and new passengers could get on. Grace boarded and once settled into a seat, she noted that the handsome stranger sat down on the other side of the aisle in one of the
seats that conveniently faced her.
He did what everyone does and dove into looking at his cell phone, but she noticed him sneaking glances at her as well.
Am I crazy or is he looking at me when I take a sip of my hot cocoa?
{ CLAY }
It was ridiculous, Clay couldn’t take his eyes off the lovely, curly-haired blonde.
He’d gotten on the Portland Streetcar despite his car being parked on NW 23rd. He was compelled to make a move, to figure out a way to start a conversation with her. But how to do so without looking so pathetically obvious?
He darted his eyes between the emails from work pouring in on his cell phone and peeking up to watch her take sips of her chocolate drink. He enjoyed seeing the satisfaction she got from the beverage and admired her for that. It was so sexy. Pure and simple. To see a beautiful, desirable woman enjoying her food or drink.
Clay was enthralled by her and distracted by his cell that he barely notice the streetcar fare cop who now stood before him and asked to see his ticket. Clay immediately felt like a fool, as he had a transit pass but it was in his car and he quickly remembered he didn’t have any cash on him.
Idiot, idiot, idiot!
Now he was going to be humiliated right here in public, in front of her. Clay decided to do what Clay does best, charm the streetcar fare cop who was now scowling at him, watching Clay frantically figure out what to do.
{ GRACE }
If he hadn’t looked so completely mortified, Grace would have laughed out loud at the attractive stranger who was now squirming and scrambling to find his way out of not having the proper fare to ride the streetcar.
It was right then that Grace realized her golden opportunity had arrived. She’d come to his rescue.
Ever so quick to think of what to say or do as she did it all day long at her job, she scooted over one seat and leaned forward, a fare ticket in her hand. Catching the handsome stranger’s gaze, she said to him while smiling at the streetcar fare cop with one of her best smiles.
