Size King

by S. C. Adams

  “Hey, now,” I react feeling slightly offended. “You never know where the right woman might turn up.”

  “Now I have a kid, so there’s no chance of me ever getting a date again,” he says. “It’s just as well. I am about to give up on women altogether anyhow.”

  “Why? What did we do?”

  “Nah, I don’t mean to generalize,” he backtracks. “You know what I mean. One really awful one spoils the whole bunch.”

  “Tell me about it,” I relate. “Who ruined women for you?”

  “Brittany,” he answers quickly. “The only girl I ever thought I might get serious with. We dated when I lived in L.A. Everyone thought we were going to get married, ironically. Back in the day, I almost thought I was going to end up building my own house or cottage up here in the mountains with that girl.”

  “Oh, geez,” I say. “What happened? She didn’t want to move to Wrightwood?”

  “Nah, she loved nature and being around it as often as she could,” he says. “We drifted apart over time. I wanted to end things once I knew we were in trouble, and she pressured me to stay, so I did. Then, she cheated on me—with my cousin, no less. I broke up with her. Then, she broke into my dad’s house when no one was home and stole some expensive things.”

  “Whoa,” I say, taken aback. “That’s really rough. Sorry to hear that.”

  “Eh, it was a long time ago,” he says. “Did you have a Brittany?”

  “Guys have cheated on me before,” I let him know. “I’ve never had a guy steal from my parents or me.”

  “Lucky you,” he says. “Well, not really lucky, because you’re pregnant.”

  The sun was setting, with natural light fading out of the room quickly. I use that as my cue to get out of bed and head back home.

  “I’m really sorry for barging in on you like this,” I say as I put my underwear back on. “I didn’t know how to reach out to you. I felt like if I creeped and found your number and called you out of the blue, that would freak you out, or you wouldn’t even answer. I’m glad I came, though.”

  “I’m very glad you came, darling,” he says as he slides his boxers back on.

  “I don’t expect you to know what you want to do right away,” I assure him. “In fact, I don’t expect to even hear from you during my first trimester. I just wanted you to know so you could think of what you wanted to do.”

  We dress in silence. The wheels in his head are turning fast.

  “I’m sorry if it seems like an intervention slash booty call, but I have to head back to L.A.,” I say. “I’ve got a shoot early in the morning, so I need my beauty sleep.”

  “I really am glad you came,” says Mason. “Thank you for telling me the truth. I’m not mad or sad, really. I want to be there for you.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah,” he says reassuringly. “I want to be there for you any way I can. I can’t do much, but I want to help you and the baby.”

  I am so happy to hear him say that, as well as extremely relieved. I am thrilled to know I won’t be alone during this insane ordeal, and he might turn into a real partner through it all. I still can’t tell what he wants with me, or even if there is a future, but I’m hopeful that things might work out with Mason.

  “Let me write down my number for you,” he says once fully dressed.

  We exchange numbers, and I pick up my purse. I am already eager to text him on my long drive back to Los Angeles.

  “I’m going to hide this pregnancy for as long as I can,” I say. “I just got my job at K-Plus, and I’m not about to lose it when I know I can still kill it. This is another advantage of being a thicker girl. I’ll be able to hide it in plain sight.”

  “Well, good luck to you,” he says as he escorts me to my car. “Don’t be afraid to call me. I’ll be here for you, I promise.”

  As I drive back down the mountains toward civilization, I can’t help but believe him. I smile, knowing that Mason would not be like most guys that I know.

  28

  Mason

  Nearly an hour before Jillian makes it back to L.A. after giving me the flabbergasting news, she starts to text me. It starts innocently enough, with her casually talking about her surroundings, to me saying she shouldn’t text and drive. Then, it evolves right into text flirting before she’s even made it back to her place.

  Our conversations never fully evolve into “sexting,” but they often come close. I find myself looking at my phone for long periods of time in a day, waiting for her next text to appear. I spend more time with my phone than doing something constructive or working harder to push Dunn Deliveries.

  I need our scandalous text sessions because I still haven’t fully processed the fact that I am going to be a dad. I’ve accepted that Jillian is pregnant. I’ve also accepted that I was the one that got her pregnant. Yet, I still can’t fully imagine being a parent to someone. I know that I have eight months to process that fact, and then I’ll have another few months to firmly decide what I want. I am still unclear about what she is going to do with the baby after she gives birth.

  We text each other for two days straight, and we stay in our comfortable territory of flirty, light, fun dialogue. I am hoping to have some sort of emotional epiphany by then, but I’m still not sure what I feel about the whole situation.

  I do want a family one day, but I hardly know Jillian. I can’t even picture what a family with her might look like since I can’t even picture what kind of person she actually is. She does intrigue me. She is fun to talk to, and she is amazing in bed. I’m content with waiting it out with Jillian and seeing where things can take us. I know I want to at least try. If not for me, or her, for our kid. I know nothing about this unborn child, but I know it deserved some effort from its father.

  After the second day of text flirting, I decide that I’m not going to keep it up unless I have the chance to see her again. Our talks are only making me want to be around her more, and I want to see if we can maintain our spark in person as well as we can through text messaging. Plus, I want to get to know her better as a person and to get a sense of the full woman and learn about the bearer of my child.

  I decide to ask her out to dinner. I feel weird doing it so soon after we’ve seen each other, and considering I live so far away from her and any restaurant we will want to eat at. So, I decide to make a trip out to L.A. under totally different circumstances. Then she won’t believe I’m in L.A. purely to see her.

  Luke bought a new car the day before and wouldn’t tell me what kind it is. He wants me to see it in person first, likely so that he can see my reaction when I realize what kind it is. He says I should head back to L.A. soon so he can show me the car, so I jump at the invitation and get on the road. I don’t mention Jillian beforehand.

  I get to Luke’s place quickly, and I can see it from the street: a brand new Lamborghini. It’s gorgeous, and it nearly blinds me from the California sun hitting the shiny hood. Luke comes running out of the house like an excited kid, jumping and fawning over his impressive vehicle. Clearly, my boy is still living off his trust fund and loving it.

  Even though the Lamborghini is spectacular and quite something to see up close, I think it feels just like every other car when I sit down inside it with Luke. I like cars and respect them, but I’m not too keen on them like Luke or my other friends are. I mostly only care about how good they are at getting me to where I want to go. It does handle well, and the engine purrs like an exotic animal while always catching the eye of someone nearby.

  We cruise all over L.A. in the Lamborghini, chilling and enjoying the ride. Throughout the whole drive, I wonder if I should mention the baby to Luke. I want to spill the beans, mostly because he is my closest friend and I want to hear his insight. I am predicting what his insight might sound like, though, so I choose to hold my tongue, deciding it isn’t a good idea.

  Once the joyride is complete, Luke spends time admiring the car in his driveway, and I decide to traipse down to the beach and give J
illian a call. She picks up almost right away.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, Jillian,” I answer. “It’s Mason. How are you?”

  “I’m good, Mason. How are you?”

  “Good, good,” I answer. “I am—well, I’ll just tell you—I’m in town right now hanging out with Luke. I’m walking toward the ocean as we speak.”

  “Oh, really?” she asks. “In L.A.? You’re hanging out with Luke? What’re you two doing?”

  “I was checking out Luke’s new ride,” I explain. “He got a Lamborghini.”

  “Wow,” she says, impressed. “That’s a nice car.”

  “Yeah, it is,” I say. “He’ll have to show you soon. Say, would you maybe want to get dinner tonight? I realize this is coming out of the blue.”

  “I showed up at your place and told you I’m pregnant with your child,” she interrupts. “I’m the one that came to you out of nowhere. You can come to me out of the blue a few times. It’s okay.”

  “Well, it’s just, you know, you’re a model, so I don’t know how your schedule looks,” I stammer. “If you had time, I’d say we should get dinner. If not, it’s all good.”

  “Mason, I’d love to,” says Jillian.

  I chuckle happily to myself, instantly thinking of potential places to take her.

  “Great!” I say. “What time should we shoot for?”

  “Well, I’m on a shoot today. I’m actually on break right now. I should be done with the shoot at six. Do we want to plan for dinner at seven?”

  “That sounds great,” I agree. “Want me to pick you up at seven? Or should I get to you before that?”

  “You don’t have to come and get me,” she says. “I can get a ride.”

  “I insist.”

  “If you insist,” she easily relents. “I’ll text you my address when we hang up.”

  “All right, I’ll see you soon, Jillian,” I say as I feel the hot beach sand sliding onto my feet. I hang up feeling triumphant.

  I arrive at her address before seven and wait outside. I lean against my car, considering texting her to let her know I am there, but I don’t want to pressure her to move faster after a full day of work. I chill, listening to the sounds of L.A. traffic in the distance.

  She texts, “Coming out.”

  When she comes out, I am mesmerized. She looks stunning, walking out in high heels and wearing a sheer green dress with her back exposed. Her flowing blond hair looks particularly inviting. She is smiling wider the closer she gets—I’m staring at her, so she is amused.

  “How do I look?” she asks.

  I want to take her right then and there. I want her dress to land on the floor of my car.

  “You look way too damn good,” I say.

  “You’re not so bad yourself, handsome,” says Jillian. “Where are we going tonight?”

  “Why don’t we find out?” I reply vaguely. I hold open her door, shutting it before going back to my side.

  I turn the car on, restarting the radio and my playlist. A song by The Killers comes on, and it seems like she recognizes it. I watch her bobbing her beautiful head up and down to the beat, relaxing among all the insanity that lay before us both.

  Our eyes eventually meet, and we both look away. We each understand how the other is feeling. Then I reach over and put my hand on her thigh.

  “We’re in a public place,” she mutters quietly. “And people can see into your car.”

  “I’ll take you in the back seat right now,” I say, inching closer to her.

  “I think it’s best if we try to avoid getting arrested,” she says. “I don’t think either of us needs a criminal record.”

  “I’d like to not ever have a criminal record,” I comment.

  “I think we may have already pushed the envelope in terms of public foreplay,” she considers. “The night we met? In the cab? Maybe we shouldn’t push our luck.”

  “We could go back inside.” I eye her apartment behind us.

  “I think maybe we should go have dinner, mister.”

  It’s clear to me that we both want it. But instead of misbehaving, I decide to get on the same page. I hit the gas, and we take off.

  I decide to take us to Bellefontaine’s, a restaurant on the outskirts of downtown. We sit; we eat; and we get to know each other a little more. It’s going great.

  I tell her what a typical day for me is like up in the mountains, and what it’s like to run a delivery company. I can’t know for sure, but it seems like I’m boring her after a while. It may be my imagination, or perhaps her mind is racing. Mine has been racing nonstop since I learned that I am going to be a dad.

  When the waiter comes back to refill our glasses, I take the opportunity to turn the conversation over.

  “So, where do your parents live?” I ask. “New York?”

  “They mostly live in Connecticut now,” she answers. “My dad owns a couple of banks on the east coast. His biggest one is in New York, so they spend a lot of time there, too. He’s fixing to retire soon, I think.”

  “When do you think you’ll see them again?”

  “I just moved out here, so probably not for a few months at least,” she answers.

  “Well, longer than that,” I speculate. “After a certain point in a pregnancy, they don’t let you fly on airplanes.”

  “Oh, well, there you go,” I say. “It’s just as well. Besides, my dad works most of the time, and my mom and I don’t really have much in common. It honestly got kind of annoying after a while—being around them. They’re both really snobby, and a bit self-obsessed. You’d know after you met them.”

  “Well, if you become a rich banker, I think being a little snobby goes along with that,” I quip.

  “They’re so arrogant sometimes, though,” I tell him. “You have to see it to understand. They think they’re better than everybody. I’ve never thought I am better than everyone. Most are surprised to find out that I’m their daughter. I wouldn’t consider myself snobby. I’m pretty mellow.”

  “Do you have any brothers or sisters?” I ask. “I’m an only child. Well, basically. I have a younger stepsister, but we don’t really consider each other siblings.”

  “Aww, why not?”

  “She’s too much like her mom, and her mom is awful,” I say.

  “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” she says. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  I give her a brief history lesson on my dad and stepmom finding each other. I leave my mom out of the conversation. I’m not ready to tell Jillian much about her yet. I can rant about my stepmom all night, but I don’t want to come off like an angry, brooding mental patient.

  “Believe it or not, I can relate,” says Jillian. “I have an older brother. We’re not close, and he married this—” Jillian chuckles to herself, clearly recalling a horror story from the past. “My brother works in banking with our dad. He makes a lot of money. He married this one girl, Kathy.”

  “Do we not like Kathy?”

  “We do not,” she affirms. “She came from nothing and had a reputation for dating older guys with lots of money. After she turned thirty, she started looking for someone with money she could settle down with and leech off for life. So, she married my brother, and she’s really hot, so she gets away with whatever she wants. She’s only with him for his bank account and what all can be bought with it. It makes me sick.”

  “Too bad he doesn’t recognize what’s going on,” I add.

  “Yep, that’s my sister-in-law, the total bitch. I’m kind of hoping he wakes up soon and finds someone different. Know any cute, single girls in Wrightwood?”

  “Afraid not,” I say. “We could send her a special delivery, courtesy of Dunn Deliveries.”

  “What, like send someone to poison her?”

  “No,” I say, laughing uncomfortably. “I meant more like send her a flaming bag of dog poo or something, one of the classics. Glad to know where your mind’s at!”

  “I would never poison my sister-in-law.”
She laughs. “Emma might, though. She hates her—for what she did to me and my brother and everything.”

  “That makes sense.”

  “She’s in Vegas right now for a shoot,” says Jillian. “I’m sort of jealous. I’ve never been to Vegas, and I’ve always wanted to go.”

  “Maybe we’ll have to go on a road trip sometime,” I say. “I’ve only been once, and I had an amazing time.”

  “It won’t be fun going to Vegas until after I have this baby,” she says. “No drinking or smoking. I can’t go to Vegas and not drink and smoke, you know?”

  “Of course.” I laugh.

  After we both finish our meal sometime later, I leave a hundred on the table, and we make our exit.

  “Do you want to come back to my place?” she asks sheepishly. “I need to give you the grand tour.”

  “We don’t have to hook up tonight, you know? I wanted to take you out and have a nice night together.”

  “I’m having a really nice night with you,” she says. “It’s been wonderful so far. I think the night would be perfect if you came over and made me a woman again. You do it too well.”

  “Do you have any more shoots coming up?” I ask.

  “I don’t have any shoots for the rest of the week, no,” she replies. “Nothing scheduled as of this afternoon.”

  “So, it’s safe to assume that you’re free tomorrow?”

  “You would be assuming correctly. Yes, sir. What are you thinking?”

  “I am thinking of asking if you’d maybe rather go to my place,” I suggest. “It’s a bit of a drive, but there’s a lot of space for a lot of activities.”

  She grins, licking her soft, full lips. “Take me, baby.”

  29

  Jillian

  Mason drives us up the interstate so fast that I feel sure we are going to break the time-space continuum. He doesn’t care about speed limits, nearby patrol cars, or any of the other daredevils that swerve through the roads. He is determined to bed me, and I am anxious to feel his huge cock filling me up again.