Just Joshing: A BBW Romantic Comedy (Short and Sweet Series Book 1)

by Evie Mitchell

  "¿sí?"

  "Wear a suit. This is a fancy event," she hung up.

  I slid the phone back in my pocket, raising a hand to flag a taxi, muttering, "scene three, the hero chases after the heroine."

  Chapter Five

  Molly

  "Oh…my…god." I heard the horrified whisper behind me as I struggled to contain my giggles. My mother's finger nails dug into my arm as she stared at the stage, her face a picture of stunned dismay.

  "-it will give men and women an insight into what their real sexual relationship could look like." My brother, Archer, continued to explain the intricacies of his new app.

  The room, filled to capacity with friends, family, business colleagues and media, were dead silent as Archer walked us through each part of his invention. He'd partnered with a sex therapist to create what was essentially a sexualized version of Tinder. But instead of swiping based on a profile, the interested party would have to answer a series of relationship questions to see how compatible they would be. The final hurdle was an interactive tool which allowed the user to set a stimulation scenario. The scenario let the user choose how they liked to be pleasured in bed. If a potential partner met all their relationship compatibility, they unlocked the scenario. Those who received a seventy-percent or higher rating would be automatically matched.

  "Now Kellie is going to demonstrate how to program the simulation."

  The sex therapist stepped forward. Her dreadlocks were pulled back in an updo, a scarf the color of the app covered the front portion of her hair. Kellie flicked a graceful hand to the screen. "We have eighteen vulvas and twelve penis options to choose from."

  My mother let out a distressed whimper, her fingers tightening on my arm. I tried to shake her off to no avail.

  Kellie flicked through the simulation options. "The fundamental principles of OH are inclusivity and diversity. Are you can see, we've tried to include as many skin tones, shapes, ages and physical differences as possible. We're working with professionals in the sex industry to expand our options. We do this by only using individuals who we know participate in ethical pornography practices. We expect to have a further forty options by the end of the year."

  I glanced around the room. The entire venue was silent, even the waiters were still, watching Kellie swipe thorough the vulvas.

  "Now, I'm going to choose this vulva because it most closely resembles my own." She clicked one and a new screen opened.

  "This little button down here will start recording. All you need to do is stimulate the area as if you were masturbating. Watch."

  And that's how fifteen hundred people watched a woman jack-off a phone.

  "Maleficent," my mother whispered, raising a hand to her throat. "I think I need to…" Her knees buckled.

  "Mom!" I grabbed her, staggering under her weight. A man intervened, scooping her up.

  "Josh?"

  "Hey," he shifted my mother in his arms. "Let's move her outside."

  We hurried through the venue, weaving around slack-jawed invitees all staring at the giant screens as a woman flicked her virtual bean.

  "And you can include audio recordings, if you like, by pressing–"

  In the lobby, we found a long seat, lying my mother down.

  I flapped a program in her face while Josh went looking for help. My mother awoke a short time later.

  "Oh," she fluttered, hands swinging about. "I'm so embarrassed!"

  "Don't be. You probably just got overheated." I continued to wave the program.

  "Not this!" She snapped, sitting up. "That!" She jerked a hand back at the doors. "Your brother. What on earth was he thinking?"

  I felt a flush dust my cheeks even as I struggled to contain my laughter. "I guess he was looking to capitalize on the dating market."

  "Call the car, Molly. I'm going home." She pushed to her feet, reaching a shaking hand up to clutch at her pearls. "I won't condone this… this… your brother!"

  I bit the side of my cheek.

  Don't laugh, don't laugh, don't laugh, don't-

  I poured her into the car, closing the door with a wave, watching as Walter, her driver, merged into traffic.

  "Well," a voice drawled behind me. "Tonight has certainly been… interesting."

  I turned, catching sight of Josh's grin.

  "Would you say," I struggled to get the word out. "Stimulating?"

  We both stared at each other for a beat before roaring with laughter. I bent over, clutching at my stomach as tears rolled down my cheeks.

  "Oh god. The look on her face," I brushed at the tears. "What is he thinking?"

  "Did you see your aunt?" Josh asked, attempting to drag in breaths. "She was nodding along."

  Aunt Violet had been married and divorced more times than Elizabeth Taylor.

  "That does not surprise me." I straightened, struggling to contain the giggles that threatened to restart. "She'll be first in line to trial it."

  "Should we return?" He held out his arm. I slid my hand into the crook.

  "Yeah, I really want to see what comes next."

  "That's what she said."

  I groaned, rolling my eyes. Walking back into the room, I realized I'd made a huge mistake.

  "Is that-?" I froze.

  "Oh yeah." Josh chocked out, snorting.

  "I didn't… fuck."

  My brother was tickling balls on a screen.

  "As you can see, we've moved to 3D modelling in all the simulations. Men can-"

  I spun, searching for the exit. There were few things in my life that I wished I could forget. The night Peter and Bess fucked while I lay crying. The day my grandmother died. And now the night my brother tickled fake balls in front of me.

  You know, the usual kind of traumas.

  I made a beeline for the bar, catching sight of my brothers as they headed in the same direction.

  Joe lifted his chin in greeting.

  "Dear god," Tom muttered, flagging down the barman as he slumped heavily against the bar. "That was…"

  "Horrifying?"

  "Satan won today." Joe muttered, pulling out his wallet.

  We ordered – hard liquor – all of us ignoring Josh's chuckles.

  The barmen slid three whiskey neat's in front of us.

  "Here's to gorging our eyes out later tonight." Tom toasted, clinking my glass.

  We all sipped.

  Josh leaned against the bar, grinning at our collective distress. "You know this is going to make it into a movie, right?"

  "No, it won't. Sam will have our back."

  "Yeah, buena suerte con eso, hermano." Josh chuckled. "He's going to freak when I tell him about this."

  I shot Josh a side eye. "What do we need to do to make this go away?"

  He crossed his arms, one arm propped on the other, thumb grazing lazily back and forth across his bottom lip as considered me. I felt my nipples prickle at the lazy heat in his gaze.

  Down, Molly.

  "Come with me on Saturday."

  I tilted my head, "where?"

  "Venue shopping. I'm stuck driving Bess and Pete around."

  My eyes widened. "Wait, you're going with them?"

  He grimaced, "they want a," he lifted both hands making quotation marks, "professional opinion."

  "What does that even mean?"

  "Translation – Ma offered my services. I'm now roped in as the creative director of bridal operations." His lips pressed together in an unimpressed line. "I wish that was a fake title."

  Joe, Tom and I burst out laughing.

  "Dear lord," I chuckled, handing him my glass. "You need this more than me."

  He turned the glass, pressing his lips to where mine had sipped. My eyebrows lifted, eyes widening slightly as I watched him sip. An awareness, a shiver, spiraled out from my abdomen.

  He licked his lip, chasing a drop of liquor. "This is your smoky malt."

  Tom nodded, "2010 edition. I prefer the '88 but we can't be picky at a time like this."

  Joe
bumped my shoulder, "You gonna save us, sis?"

  I glanced up, catching Joe's normally serious blue eyes dancing with mirth.

  "Oh, go on." Tom laughed. "It's a small price to pay for keeping this disaster from the silver screen." He waggled a finger at Josh, "I see you, Greenfeld. I don't put anything past you."

  Josh grinned, "better save your family, hermoso."

  Hermoso? I flushed, feeling suddenly shy. Down girl, he's just being nice. He doesn't mean anything by calling you beautiful. It's your horny hormones going crazy.

  But the pleasant frisson of heat he'd ignited flared out, warming my blood, sending a flush across my skin. I pushed the feeling away, unwilling to examine it at that moment.

  "Well?" Josh prompted.

  "Fine," I blew out a long breath. "But I expect dinner."

  "You got it, Pecas."

  Chapter Six

  Molly

  Bess was what they referred to in my circles as new money. Second generation, her father was the Brazilian king, having patented hair removal technology back before the boom. Mrs. Kirkson had been Miss New Jersey back in the day, complete with signature big hair, hoop earrings and thick accent. She'd shed the accent, toned down the hair and upgraded to Cartier.

  I'd cut my baby teeth on backstabbing nannies and gossiping groups of deadly divas. Little girls had been weaponized as tools for scheming fathers to schmooze with my parents. I'd once been told that the only reason I'd been invited to a tea party was because the girl's father promised her a pony.

  Little wonder my best friend had been Pete.

  That had all changed in high school. Bess had been my roommate at boarding school. Irreverent, hilarious, she was the first genuine person I'd ever met. We'd been thick as thieves and twice the trouble. Our only fight, our only rough patch, had been Peter.

  Well, until today. Today was the day I killed her.

  Venue eighteen. Eighteen. As in One-Eight. As in the number that came after seventeen. We were up to venue eighteen.

  Eight. Teen.

  By this stage it had to be justifiable homicide. No judge could blame me. Not after the horrors of this outing.

  I'd innocently assumed I'd be accompanying the happy couple plus Josh.

  Oh no. No no no no no.

  They'd hired a stretch hummer.

  The Greenfeld clan, the Kirkson Family (complete with Grandmother Kirkson and her three chihuahua's), two wedding planners, a videographer (actively recording this horror show) and a make-up artist had all packed into the hummer as we toured venue after venue.

  I leaned into Josh, polite smile firmly in place as Grandma Kirkson slipped on her dust glove. "Please tell me this is a horrible dream which I will awake from shortly."

  He leaned in, teeth bared in what could sort of be called a smile. "Nope. You're in this nightmare with me, Pecas."

  Granny raised her gloved finger. "Dust!" She whirled, pinning the venue coordinator with a frosty glare. "What kind of garbage joint you runnin' here? Dust? Get in the car, Bessie. We're leavin'."

  This is how we ended up at venue nineteen.

  "It's now justifiable homicide, right?" Josh whispered as we pulled up.

  "Hundred percent." I whispered back. "You got any arsenic on you?"

  "Nope, but I'm good with my hands. You take the grandmother, I'll take Pete."

  I glared at him. "You know full well she conceal carries. I'm not taking that on."

  He shot me a grin and a wink as we exited the hummer.

  We stepped through the doors and Bess' body language immediately changed. My hand snaked out, fingernails digging into Josh's bicep.

  "This is it!" I hissed, bouncing up and down excitedly. "She loves it."

  His head swiveled to take in Bess' starstruck expression. "Thank fuck."

  A hand smacked the back of his head, sending him pitching forward.

  "Language." His mother barked, stepping past us.

  Mr. Greenfeld shook his head, shooting us a sympathetic grimace. "Your brother owes me a case of beer. I didn't sign up for this nonsense. Nineteen fuc-" he swallowed his curse at his wife's warning glare. "-er-fudging venues."

  Josh and I shot each other an amused look before looking away, grinning.

  The venue consisted of a roof top fairy garden and towering Cinderella ballroom complete with pure crystal chandelier. Ostentatious, over the top, just this side of classy, it practically screamed Bess.

  "This is it," she whispered, slowly circling under the chandelier while the videographer filmed. "This is where we're getting married."

  Pete pulled her in, "Book it, cariño." He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Anything you want."

  I grinned, watching Bess throw herself into Pete's arms. They were truly adorable. Any angst I'd had at their announcement had now passed, leaving behind only warm affection.

  "Ah, mis queridos!" Josh's mother purred, pulling them both into a hug. I looked away, glancing around the beautiful room.

  "Oh, Jesucristo," Josh choked out, raising a fist to his mouth.

  "Wha- oh crap."

  Off to the side, one of Granny's chihuahua's had squatted on the carpet, leaving behind a little gift.

  "Do you think," Josh choked out, "dog poo is the new pigeon poo?"

  "What?" I asked, giggling uncontrollably. "Lucky?"

  "Either that or we're in deep shit."

  We both roared with laughter.

  ◆◆◆

  Josh

  Molly raised the coffee mug to her lips, eyelids fluttering down as she paused for a moment to smell the roast before taking a sip.

  I'd never considered coffee erotic before this moment but all signs pointed to the fact I had a boner. I shifted on my seat, thinking of baseball stats, raw eggs and chihuahua's who didn't know better.

  She replaced the mug and glanced at her watch, letting out a sigh.

  "You have plans?"

  She wrinkled her nose, reaching across the table to fork a mouthful of the brownie we were once again splitting. After the horror of venue shopping, we both deserved it.

  "I have a… thing. It's not for another hour."

  I leaned in, lifting an eyebrow. "A thing?"

  She huffed out a sigh, blowing hair away from her face. "A thing."

  "Does this… thing have a name?"

  Her mouth kicked up, eyes sparkling. "Not that kind of thing."

  "But not a family or charity thing?"

  "No, not that." She agreed, now smiling.

  I tapped fingers against the table. "Let's see, it's not a person, it's not an event, that leaves..." I leaned in, waiting for her to meet me in the middle. "A speed dating event."

  She blinked once, then threw herself back, roaring with laughter. Her hand came up, finger pointing at me as she shook her head. "You knew!"

  I grinned, neither confirming nor denying.

  "Oh god," she groaned, throwing an arm over her eyes dramatically. "If you know that means Sam knows."

  "Your secret is safe with me, Pecas."

  She dropped her arm, tilting her head just a little. She did that when she was curious or unsure, had since three years old. "What does that mean?"

  "Nothing," I muttered, standing abruptly. I pulled a few notes from my pocket, dropping them on the table. "Come on, you're going to be late."

  "I have an hour!" She protested, allowing me to pull her up.

  "You're wearing a turtle neck and jeans." I helped her shrug into her coat. "While I have no issues with this and think you look, hermoso, you're speed dating. Your knight could be waiting."

  She grumbled, slipping her hand into mine as we exited the café. "My knight shouldn't care what I wear."

  I threw her a grin, "and he won't. Once he gets to know you. Haven't you ever watched a rom-com?"

  She bumped her shoulder into mine. "You're romance crazy."

  "Probably."

  "Did you start writing?"

  I liked the way her hand fit in mine. Her fingers were cool, soft but a littl
e callused. They fit perfectly in my own.

  "Josh?"

  "Hmm?"

  "Writing. Did you start a script?"

  I made an affirmative sound in the back of my throat. I stopped us, lifting a hand to flag a cab.

  Holding the door open, I slid in after her, calling directions to the driver.

  "And?" She prompted as the cab pulled away from the curb.

  "And?" I asked.

  She rolled her eyes. "Is it a rom-com?"

  "Of course. One doesn't watch every Netflix Christmas special for no reason."

  She clapped her hands together, shimmering in her seat. "A Christmas movie?"

  I shook my head, lifting a hand to my mouth to mime zipping.

  "Hmf!" She punched me gently, crossing her arms. "You're the worst."

  "And yet you're in a cab with me."

  "Somethings are unavoidable." The cab stopped at her address. "And you're paying." She kicked the door open, diving out.

  The driver turned in his seat, hand out, offering me a sympathetic, "women."

  I loathed Molly's apartment. I'd been here a handful of times for various family events, birthdays and what-not. Each time I entered I was overcome by a sense of wrongness. The apartment itself was bright and airy, modern. Full of clean lines and minimalistic furniture. Her dad had handed her the keys as a graduation present, her mother revamped the interior design every year or so.

  Nothing about the apartment said Molly. It didn't suit her. Molly was warm tones and light that danced across earthy textures. Molly was nights spent curled up reading by a fire, hand knitted blankets and oversized scarves. She was warmth and comfort, mixed with romantic whimsy in a package as earthy and raw as it was beautiful.

  Act Two: The hero makes his move. Beginning with eliminating the speed dating competition.

  "I'll be right back." Molly said, disappearing into her bedroom.

  "Take your time." I called, shrugging off my coat and taking a seat at the breakfast bar. I pulled out my phone, answering emails and getting into a twitter war with a friend while waiting.

  "How's this?"

  I looked up and immediately got hard. "No."

  Molly's face fell. "No?"

  Fuck. No.