by Harper Ashe
Sweet for You: A BBW Billionaire Romance
by Harper Ashe
Published by Hearts Collide Publishing, 2014.
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
SWEET FOR YOU: A BBW BILLIONAIRE ROMANCE
First edition. February 7, 2014.
Copyright © 2014 Harper Ashe.
Written by Harper Ashe.
Table of Contents
A Taste of the Romance Inside
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
A Taste of the Romance Inside
“Would you like to know what I thought when I saw you in the tasting room?” Stephen asked.
Abby was trembling. “Y-y-yes.”
“I thought you were stunning.”
“Stunning? Me?”
“Oh yes. I was quite taken by how your soft, blonde hair caressed your shoulders and how your sparkling blue eyes danced with mischief. And your lips...”
“What about them?” Abby asked with a soft sigh.
“From the moment I saw your luscious, pink lips taste my dessert, I’ve wanted to taste them in return.” Stephen reached out and traced Abby’s mouth with his fingertip, slowly, seductively. “You have enticing lips, Miss Branson. Plump, succulent, and very kissable lips.”
~~~
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~~~
Chapter 1
The flyer was on a table at the back of room 106, sandwiched between a stack of business cards for a bariatric surgery center and brochures for a hypnotherapist specializing in weight management. The single sheet of lavender paper with the giant cupcake in the center caught Abby Branson’s eye. It read:
TASTE TESTERS WANTED
Get Paid Up to $1,000 for Your Honest Opinions
About a New Line of Gourmet Diet Desserts
Under the cupcake was a toll free telephone number to learn more.
Some company was paying people to eat dessert? Abby’s sweet tooth salivated at the thought, but she didn’t pick up the flyer.
She was in room 106 for the weekly BBW Support Group meeting. Although the table of literature might indicate otherwise, the group for Big Beautiful Women wasn’t about weight loss. It was about empowerment.
While Abby didn’t have any close friends in the group, she felt a bit of camaraderie with everyone there. The two dozen women in the room ranged in age from under 20 to over 50, and they all had one thing in common: curves. The BBW Support Group was one place where Abby didn’t feel self-conscious about her weight and where she was accepted for who she was rather than what she looked like. Plus, the free presentations were usually pretty interesting.
Tonight’s topic was plus-size fashion. The speaker would be discussing “How Curvy Girls Can Dress for Success” and hosting a virtual fashion show displayed on the big screen with before and after photos.
Abby was looking forward to the presentation. Her low-level admin job was getting old and she was thinking of applying for a higher position. Before she did, she needed to step up her game in the clothing department. Nobody was going to promote a lowly admin dressed in yoga pants and a tunic top to executive assistant, not even if she was a natural blonde with a pretty face.
Choosing a seat that had a good view of the screen, Abby took a spiral notebook out of her tote bag. While waiting for the session to start, she doodled, drawing a larger-than-life cupcake like the one on the flyer. Quickly flipping the page, she scolded herself for getting distracted.
Abby had never met a sweet she didn’t like: cookies, pie, chocolates, donuts, and yes, cupcakes. Sugar was her downfall and the main reason why her figure had curves. Well, that and the fact that she wasn’t willing to starve herself to fit into a size that was more socially acceptable. Even as a little girl, she had been chunky. Her mom chalked her weight up to genetics; Abby chalked it up to fate.
The year before turning 30, Abby had made the decision to stop beating herself up for being a BBW. That was when she joined the support group and began to discover how to embrace her curves.
The presentation was about to begin so she turned her focus away from the flyer to pay attention. The speaker introduced herself as Lois Carlyle. Like the rest of the women in the room, Lois was a BBW, yet her well-tailored suit downplayed her imperfections and highlighted her attributes. Her polished hair and makeup conveyed a level of class than nobody else in the room had.
As a public speaker, Lois was engaging. She soon had the group responding with claps and groans as she used humor to describe the challenges of dressing a plus-size figure and provided tips for shedding baggy styles and sweatpants.
Abby wished that her curvy little sister lived close enough to attend the BBW support group with her. Claire had a great sense of humor and would have loved watching Lois Carlyle in action. But the four hour drive round trip was just too much for an evening of empowerment, no matter how entertaining it was.
Although Lois’ pep talk was empowering, the highlight of the evening was the fashion show. Like a supersized edition of What Not to Wear, the show brought Lois’ advice to life and Abby furiously scribbled down notes as she explained each model’s “Before” mistakes and “After” recommendations.
Lois concluded her presentation with a plug for her plus-size personal shopper business before opening the floor to questions.
“How much should we expect to spend on some of the wardrobe basics?” a woman at the front asked.
“The cost can vary depending on fabric quality, designer, and other factors,” Lois replied. “With a couple hundred dollars, you can certainly add a few separates to your closet. If you have a thousand dollars or more to spend, you should be able to buy the core items we talked about tonight.”
Abby’s heart sank. A thousand dollars? At her current salary, it would take her a whole year to save that much money. When the Q&A segment wrapped up, she was still dejected, but also determined. On her way out the door, she grabbed the lavender flyer from the back table and shoved it in her bag. One way or another, she was going to get the money to dress for success.
~~~
Still energized by Lois’ presentation, Abby called the number on the flyer when she got home, expecting to get an automated messaging system.
“Operator,” a live voice answered.
“Oh...I would like extension 24906 please.”
“Please hold while I connect you.”
While orchestra music played in the background, Abby flipped through the latest issue of Food Fest magazine. The cover featured a dashing image of Stephen Blake with promises of a tell-all interview beginning on page 19.
Mr. Blake was a celebrity in female foodie circles, best known for inheriting the CEO position at Blake Foods, Inc. at a fairly young age and for dating skinny supermodels that clearly steered clear of the gourmet foods his company produced. Abby had harbored a secret crush on the food magnate for years and bought every magazine that interviewed him. She had even applied for an administrative position at his company once but didn’t get past the first round of interviews.
She had already read the Food Fest magazine interview and it certainly wasn’t a tell-all. In fact, it was nothing more than a thinly-veiled advertisement for the company’s gourmet foods. Yet with Mr. Blake’s image on the cover, she couldn’t quite bring
herself to toss the issue into the recycle bin.
Touching the magazine, Abby wondered what it would be like to let her fingertips trail across Mr. Blake’s firm jaw in real life. Would his skin be smooth and supple, with a hint of musky aftershave? Or would there be a trace of roughness where his stubborn beard refused to be eradicated? Simply thinking about him made her heart race and her belly flutter.
While the orchestra music continued to play, Abby fantasized about meeting Mr. Blake. She stared at his picture on the magazine cover and pretended they were at a fancy ball.
Their eyes would meet across the crowded ballroom and he would look at her as if she was the only other person in the room. Looking breathtakingly handsome in his impeccably tailored black tuxedo, he would walk slowly but purposely toward her, never letting go of her gaze.
After complimenting her on her beauty, he would hold out his hand and ask her to dance. Leading her out to the dance floor, her gossamer gown with an empire waist would flow freely around her curves, and the fitted bodice, cut scandalously low, would highlight her ample cleavage.
He would twirl her around the dance floor, and the skinny girls with flat chests standing on the sidelines would secretly wish that their bodies were as luscious as hers so that, just maybe, he would ask them to dance next. As the orchestra music hit a crescendo, he would pause and pull her close, crushing her full breasts against his hard chest.
Time would seem to stand still as they both realized that they were meant to be together. He would bend his head and slowly bring his lips toward hers—
Just then, the music stopped and Abby’s fantasy vanished with it. After a series of clicks, another voice came on the line. “Research Institute. This is Mary. How may I help you?”
“Huh-hi Mary,” Abby stammered, turning the magazine over as she tried to regain her composure. “I picked up one of your flyers about a taste testing. Of desserts. For money.”
“Of course,” Mary replied pleasantly. “We do have a few spots left. Would you mind answering some questions to see if you qualify for our paid tasting experience?”
“I guess not,” Abby said, assuming that not answering would be cause for an automatic disqualification.
“Excellent. I can tell by your voice that you are a woman. Let’s start with your name.”
“Abigale Branson. But I go by Abby.”
“Perfect, Abby. Can you give me your age?”
“Twenty-nine.” Don’t all women fudge their weight – and their age?
“So far so good, Abby. Your age is definitely within our target demographic.” Abby could tell by the way Mary kept repeating her name that she had a sales background. Frankly, she found the technique to be a little grating.
“Are you single, married, divorced, or other?” Mary asked.
“Single.”
“Fantastic. One more question, Abby, and we’ll be all set. What was the last diet food you purchased and when did you purchase it?”
“Excuse me?”
“I know that question may seem a bit intrusive, but it’s one of the qualifying questions our client required us to ask. After all, this tasting experience is for a new line of diet desserts. I’ll understand if you prefer not to share your answer. But without it, I won’t know if you qualify.” Another sales technique: Dangle the carrot and then threaten to yank it back.
“Who is your client?” Abby asked.
“Blake Foods. Are you familiar with them? They’re a gourmet foods company based right here in the Pacific Northwest.”
Abby clutched the Food Fest magazine to her chest. “I’m more than just familiar with Blake Foods; I’m a bit of a fan girl. Will Stephen Blake be at the tasting experience? I would love to meet him.”
“Mr. Blake doesn’t usually get involved with these kinds of things, but if he does show up, I’ll see what I can do to make an introduction,” Mary promised. “That is, if you qualify. You never answered my last question.”
“Oh yeah, the last diet food I purchased. Just this morning I bought a sugar-free, non-fat latte,” Abby responded, leaving off the fact that she also bought a chocolate donut.
“Thank you, Abby, and congratulations! You have qualified for Phase I of our tasting experience. For this first phase, we need about an hour of your time. The pay will be $200 in cash. Are you available next Saturday?”
“Yes, I am,” Abby said, excited at the prospect of starting her new wardrobe fund.
“Wonderful. I’ve put you down for one o’clock in the afternoon. Now, if I can get your email address, I will send you directions to the Blake Foods tasting offices.”
Chapter 2
By lunch time on Saturday, the Blake Foods product team was frustrated and bored. So far, none of the morning taste testers had offered useful feedback about their diet desserts.
First was Jeannie, the Nibbler. After nibbling on each dessert, her only comment was, “It tastes fine.” When Mary had asked her to elaborate, she couldn’t seem to find any other words to describe their desserts.
Next was Brenda, the Gobbler. Brenda was a big girl with a huge mouth who devoured each serving of dessert with gusto. She loved everything she had tried, but couldn’t quite put her finger on why. After Mary said, “Thank you,” and handed the taster her payment envelope, Brenda asked if she could box up a few treats to eat on the bus ride home.
After Brenda was Chloe the Crier. She was only there because she needed money to pay the utility bill. Evidently her boyfriend had left her for a thinner woman and didn’t pay his share of the bills before he ditched her. As she told her story, she cried and cried just before mentioning that she was diabetic and had forgotten her insulin. Mary paid her and sent her on her way before she tasted a single thing.
Slumped in their seats behind the private, mirrored wall, the product team members surfed the Web on their mobile phones to kill time until their catered lunch arrived. Mr. Blake would be sitting in for the afternoon tasting session, and they all hoped that Mary had more interesting candidates lined up. If not, heads would definitely roll.
~~~
In the process of getting ready for her very first tasting experience, Abby searched her closet for something close to Lois Carlyle’s dress-for-success suggestions. Coming up empty-handed, she chose a pair of boot cut jeans and an oversized black tee. Although the jeans were a half-size too small and a little tight around the middle, the t-shirt’s deep V-neck highlighted her cleavage, drawing attention up and away from her rounded, muffin-top belly.
After putting on a little makeup and using a curling iron to add a few waves to her silky hair, she was ready to head into the city for the tasting experience. She had never been inside the Blake Foods corporate headquarters but knew exactly where the building was located in the downtown business district. The tasting offices were on the first floor of the high rise owned by Stephen Blake.
Arriving 10 minutes early, Abby checked in with the lobby receptionist. “Abby Branson. I’m here for a one o’clock with Mary.”
“Welcome, Abby. We’re ready for you. If you’ll follow me, I’ll take you to the tasting room.”
The receptionist led Abby past the elevator bay and down a corridor into a small room with a rectangular table and two chairs. There were video cameras mounted in all four corners of the ceiling. A small sink and mini-fridge were in the back corner, and one wall was completely mirrored. Abby thought the unadorned space looked a lot like a police interrogation room.
Mary arrived at one o’clock sharp carrying a tray of delectable-looking desserts, a linen napkin rolled around a set of silverware, and a clipboard. “You must be Abby,” she said, setting the tray on the table and holding out her hand in greeting. “I’m Mary. It’s so nice to meet you.”
Abby shook Mary’s hand, thinking that her grip was pretty strong for a bird-size woman in a size two suit. “Nice to meet you too, Mary.”
“Have you ever been part of a paid tasting experience or other focus group before?” Mary asked.
“No,” Abby responded.
“Well, there’s nothing to it, really. I’ll have you taste the desserts one at a time. When you share your thoughts, I’ll jot down some notes.”
“Sounds easy enough.”
“I need to tell you that we will be recording your tasting experience.” Mary gestured to the video cameras. “Is that all right?”
Abby shrugged. “I’m okay with that.” In addition to the video cameras that were taping her tasting experience, she was pretty sure there were people behind the mirrored wall watching her interrogation by Mary and waiting for her reaction when she finally tried their dessert.
“Excellent. Before we get started, do you have any questions?”
“Yeah. When will this new line of diet desserts be available?”
“I’m afraid the launch date is still up in the air.”
“I see,” Abby mumbled mostly to herself. Maybe that’s why Mr. Blake didn’t plug the diet desserts in his Food Fest interview. Even if the official launch day was still up in the air, Abby thought that talking about the desserts would have made for a more exciting interview.
“Which dessert would you like to try first?” Mary asked.
“How about the cheesecake?” Abby loved cheesecake and the look of this one made her mouth water. The creamy triangle of sweetened cheese filling was delicately nestled on a traditional graham cracker crust and topped with a raspberry puree. She wondered how a diet dessert could look so decadent.
“An excellent choice,” Mary said, placing the napkin and cheesecake in front of her. “When you’re ready, go ahead and taste the dessert.”
Abby decided to put on a show for the cameras and the hidden viewers, giving them more bang for their two hundred bucks. Picking up the spoon, she dipped it gently into the cheesecake.
~~~
Behind the wall of mirrors, Stephen Blake and his product team watched, mesmerized, as the pretty blonde – Abby Branson – made love to their dessert, teasing it with her spoon before slowly scooping up a bite and bringing it to her lush, pink lips. As she took the spoon into her mouth, she closed her eyes and let her head tilt back slightly, savoring the morsel with abandon before seductively sliding the spoon out of her mouth.