Big Girls & Bad Boys: 8 Scorching Hot BBW Alpha Male Romance Novellas Box Set

by D. H. Cameron

  I sat in the other chair, grabbed my beer and took a sip as Jack lit up his cigar. It was dark but it was hardly ever really dark in Vegas. The street lights cast a pleasant glow and I was surprised at how quiet it was there. The soft hum of tires on concrete coming from the nearby freeway provided a white noise that drowned out most of the other sounds. This wasn’t where you’d expect to find an oasis in the city, but here it was.

  “So, doll, I’ve got plenty of beer. I want to hear what changed your mind,” Jack said. I took a deep breath as I pondered where to begin. I guess the beginning was as good a place as any. I told Jack about my hike with Trudy and what she had told me about living to please others instead of myself. I told Jack how that made me think but that my talk with Trudy was just the beginning.

  Then I told him about the night out with Trudy and her friend Sarah. I left out the fact Sarah was a crossdresser, unsure how Jack might react. I explained the wet t-shirt contest and what I’d done to win it from those other girls. Then I revealed what we did after, going to Trudy’s place and getting high but I’d painted myself into a corner. I couldn’t reveal the entire story without explaining Sarah to Jack.

  “Um...Sarah, she’s not a normal girl. She’s a crossdresser,” I began. Jack nodded. He barely reacted to any of it, nodding now and then and raising his eyebrows once or twice but that’s all he gave me. I couldn’t read him. I told him about how Sarah became Sarah with Trudy’s help and their previous relationship. Then I revealed that I’d watched Trudy give Sarah a hand job, though it was all a bit fuzzy due to the marijuana. Jack simply nodded.

  I continued, relating the rest of the story as Jack listened but gave me no hint of what he was thinking. The change in my attitude, my decision to live to please myself and forget about what others might think. I explained how Sarah and I seemed to be developing a friendship after going shopping earlier that day and how I really liked her, not despite the fact she was really a guy but in part because of it. That’s where he came in.

  “So that’s it. I was just kind of afraid what people might think if they knew I liked you. I guess I thought they might judge me. Talking about it with Trudy helped but meeting Sarah and seeing how she lived her life really hit home,” I said. Jack nodded again and puffed on his cigar as he turned to look at me. I wasn’t sure what to expect.

  “I don’t know. That’s quite a tale. You’re kind of scaring me and I’m just not sure you’re my type,” he said with a perfectly straight face. He was in range, however, so I reached over and punched him.

  “Ha ha ha. Very funny!” I said and Jack laughed at his little joke. I couldn’t help but join him though. I took another sip of beer and found it was my last. I shook the bottle, Jack took it from me and got up to go fetch two more. He was gone a moment and I knew when he came back I had to ask about Sarah. I needed to know how he felt for some reason. I don’t know why but I felt like if he couldn’t accept her, then we weren’t meant to be.

  It shouldn’t have mattered. It wasn’t as if dating Jack and being friends with Sarah had anything meaningful in common. I could have relationships with both no matter how each felt about the other but I didn’t want that. I needed Jack to accept her. I needed to know he was what I hoped. His lifestyle and his home made me think that he was but I needed to know for sure. Jack sat back down and handed me one of the beers but before I could ask Jack, he answered without me having to.

  “Your friends sound cool. I’d like to meet them,” he said.

  “Really?” I asked a bit surprised and Jack picked up on that.

  “Yeah, why?” he wondered.

  “I thought...well, I...,” I began to say but without much success before Jack smiled and jumped in.

  “Look, I can’t live the way I do and not accept others for who they are. I’m used to being judged, even by you,” he said and I nodded accepting the truth. “I’m a scruffy, outlaw, dumpster-diving biker. Who am I to judge? I live the way that makes me happy. Sounds like your friend Sarah’s found what makes her happy. Good for her,” Jack said and I suddenly had a big smile I couldn’t shake.

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “No need. So, I have a question. Did I pass the test?” he asked. I was surprised at that.

  “What test?” I asked innocently. I guess I was testing him but I was testing myself too.

  “Don’t bullshit a bullshitter,” Jack replied. I laughed at that.

  “Yeah, you passed. I passed the test too,” I said and then Jack really surprised me.

  “I like you a lot, Brandy. You’re...fearless,” he said. Oh my Lord. That’s what Sarah told me too. Be fearless. What the hell was with everyone quoting each other?

  “Do you know Sarah or something, she used that word too. Fearless,” I asked rhetorically but Jack answered anyway.

  “Yeah, she’s my brother,” Jack said straight as can be leaving no doubt he was serious. I choked on the beer I was trying to swallow but as soon as I saw the grin on Jack’s face, I knew he was screwing with me.

  “You’re an idiot. She’d be your sister anyway...I think,” I said and we both laughed at my confusion.

  “So, I assume your cool being my old lady?” he asked but it was a statement of sorts. Old lady? I knew that meant I’d be his girlfriend. Yeah, I was more than cool with that.

  “If you don’t mind being my old man, I could be your old lady,” I replied. Jack put his hand out, palm up and held it there. I looked at it, then at him and took his hand in mine.

  “Good! I need a decent lawyer,” he said and squeezed my hand. I smiled and took a sip of beer as Jack puffed on his cigar. I guess we were dating and I couldn’t have been happier. No reservations and no worries. If people didn’t like it, fuck ‘em. I was Jack’s old lady and I was proud that he was my old man.

  >>O<<

  Jack took us to get some burgers and fries after a bit. We took his truck so I didn’t have to get dressed for real. After we ate them back at his trailer sitting at the bar on those old stools, we cuddled up on his big leather sofa daybed thing and watched a movie. I slept over and we made love again that morning. OK, we fucked like bikers. Making love is for normal people. In any case, when I finally made it home the next afternoon, I was on cloud nine. I had to tell someone and there was really only one someone I wanted to tell.

  “I’m so happy for you, Brandy,” Sarah exclaimed when I told her all about my night with Jack.

  “Thanks. It’s partially you’re doing,” I told her.

  “Meh, you would have figured it out on your own,” she replied.

  “Um... can I ask you something, Sarah?” I replied.

  “Yeah, sure,” she replied. I know what I wanted to ask but I wasn’t sure how to ask it. I wasn’t sure it wouldn’t sound stupid. But I had to be fearless.

  “I like you a lot, Sarah. I know you’re a crossdresser and all but we can be like girlfriends, right?” I asked and it did sound kind of stupid. Sarah didn’t say a word for a moment and I wondered if I might have said something wrong.

  “Really? You mean that?” she asked and her voice was a bit shaky.

  “Yeah, I do,” I told her.

  “I’d love to be your BFF, Brandy,” she replied. Now I was getting emotional too.

  “Cool!” I replied but I had another question. “What’s your name? You know your dude name?” I asked. Again Sarah hesitated.

  “Why?” she asked in return and I could hear that she was hesitant.

  “If we’re going to be friends I just thought...,” I began to say but she interrupted.

  You’d better just call me Sarah,” she said and I thought I’d offended her or something for a moment until she added, “It’s Jack. I mean it’s really John after my dad but everyone calls me Jack so there’s less confusion.”

  “No shit?” I asked her.

  “No shit. Besides, I want to be Sarah with you, you know. I don’t mind you meeting the male me but I don’t want to be him with you. I want to be your girlfriend, OK,” she
explained.

  “OK, but if I want to hang out on a Wednesday night, you might have to get all made up and put on something pretty,” I teased.

  “Promise?” she replied and we both laughed. We talked for a while about Jack and stuff and agreed to get together soon and go shopping or something. I felt like everything was clear suddenly. I had Jack and now I had a best friend. This was so cool. Better yet, I didn’t feel like I was struggling to fit in or make everyone else happy. I was just being me, doing what felt good and right, what I wanted and I loved it.

  The next morning, I went into work and Vic was already in his office back from his vacation. I’d had quite a week while he was gone and I looked it. The pink streak was still in my hair and instead of my usual skirt suit, white blouse and conservative heels, I wore something that I liked instead of what I thought I should wear. I wore a short leather skirt, a red blouse and matching heels. Underneath, it was all black lace including the garter belt that held my sheer black stockings with the seam up the back tight against my shapely legs.

  “Morning, Vic,” I said as I stood in his door.

  “Place looks nice. Thanks for cleaning...,” he began to say until he looked up and saw me. “You look...different, Brandy,” he told me as he looked me up and down with obviously inappropriate thoughts running through his head.

  “Do I?” I replied being coy appreciating his wandering eyes.

  “Yeah. So how’d everything go with Jack Anker?” he asked after shaking his head and forcing himself to look me in the eye.

  “I got him off. I got him off good,” I replied and giggled to myself. Vic couldn’t figure out what that was all about but I enjoyed my little turn of phrase immensely.

  “Uh...good. Anything else happen?” he wondered.

  “Nope. Pretty uneventful week,” I told him but it was anything but. I was Jack’s old lady and my new best friend was a crossdresser. I’d danced on the bar half-naked at Hogs and Heifers, won a wet t-shirt contest and smoked pot. I’d found my inner bad girl and let a dumpster-diving biker have his way with her. Best of all, that fearless, curvy vixen was here to stay.

  “Right,” was all Vic said. He knew something was up but for the life of him he couldn’t figure out what.

  “How was Hawaii? You and Lacey have a good time?” I asked changing the subject. Vic’s expression changed.

  “Yeah, it was a good vacation,” he replied.

  “Well, how about I make us some coffee and you can tell me all about all the juicy details before we get to work,” I offered.

  “Yeah, OK. You know, whatever happened to you, Brandy, I like it,” Vic told me. I smiled as he handed me his empty coffee cup.

  “So do I,” I replied and went to go get us some coffee.

  >>O<<

  Jack and Brandy can’t get any wilder, can they? Oh, you have no idea. See how bad they can be:

  Fearless Curves - Double Trouble

  (www.amazon.com/dp/B00IX51KH6)

  Fearless Curves - Triple Threat

  (www.amazon.com/dp/B00LLNO8SA)

  >>O<<

  Back to the Beginning

  Havana Curves

  Havana Curves was a labor of love that unfortunately didn’t sell very well. The story is more traditional, historical romance than erotic romance. While the characters and some specific settings are fictional, the story is set amongst a real and tragic event, the Cuban Revolution. I’ve included the original prologue, epilogue, facts about the book and left the chapters intact. I hope you enjoy the story. It was written with my heart more than my marketing sense.

  ~Prologue~

  Many decades ago, Havana, Cuba was the jewel of the Caribbean. In the 1950s, it was a cosmopolitan city that rivaled Las Vegas. Unlike today, America and Cuba were not at odds and Americans, along with others from all over the world, flocked to Havana to enjoy the weather, the beauty and the decadence. Havana was the crown jewel of Cuba and her people. However, Havana and Cuba had their dark side.

  President Fulgencio Batista was once the democratically elected president of Cuba in the 1940s but after he left office, Batista led a military coup in the early 1950’s that made him president again. Batista, however, was a dictator who showed little concern for the people of Cuba and their needs. While Cubans suffered, Batista lined his pockets. His government was corrupt, greedy and in bed with the American mob.

  Still, Havana thrived as a world-class tourist destination. Times were good in Havana, especially for those that ran the hotels, casinos and clubs as well as the dictator Batista and his government to whom they paid bribes. These injustices, however, were sowing the seeds of discontent and ultimately revolution. Fidel Castro and his 26th of July Movement promised the justice and reform the people craved and they fought to overthrow Batista.

  In 1958, the Cuban Revolution had gained support throughout much of the island nation. Castro and his fellow revolutionaries threatened to overthrow the Batista government as they won important victories in the fall of that year. Havana remained untouched by the fighting but a storm was brewing on the horizon. December, 1958, was the beginning of the end of the good times for Havana, Cuba. Bautista’s greed and corruption were nothing compared to what the Cuban people would face when Castro and his communist followers came to power...

  ~~~

  ~1~

  He touched my leg, the rum on his breath burning my nose as his hand slid under my skirt. I attempted to pull away but his strength held me close. “What’s the matter, baby? I got money,” he whispered harshly in my ear as his hand found my silk panties. I struggled futilely in his grasp as he continued to grope me, making me feel sick. The couples dancing around us failed to notice the situation I faced or maybe they just didn’t care. Finally, I wrestled free of the man’s arms and slapped him across the face.

  “Not for a million dollars, creep!” I shouted. The man smirked and looked me up and down.

  “Fat whore!” he shouted as the dancing couples noticed us now. They backed away as the man pulled a knife and its blade flashed in the lights that illuminated the dance floor. The men pushed their wives, girlfriends and high priced prostitutes behind them for protection but none moved to help me. I, apparently, wasn’t worth the risk.

  “Please, I’m sorry,” I begged the knife wielding man. He sneered and advanced. I looked around as I backed away. The patrons watched but none came to my aid. I was sure I would die there on the dance floor at the Aunt Nena Club in Havana. Then, suddenly, Tony pushed his way through the crowd and confronted the drunken man.

  “Hey, don’t make me hurt you, pal,” Tony warned as he approached. Tony was a big man, mean and angry. The drunk with the knife, however, was filled with liquid courage. He refused to back down.

  “Fuck you! This bitch insulted me. What kind of whores you keep around here, you fucking wop,” the man said referring to Tony’s Italian heritage. Tony didn’t like that. He walked towards the man, his fist clenched and anger in his eyes. The drunk stumbled backwards even though he held the switchblade but Tony was too quick. He punched the man in the face and the drunk crumpled to the floor, his knife falling from his hand sliding across the floor. Tony turned, whistled and two men in suits appeared. They grabbed the drunk and dragged him away as Tony turned his anger on me.

  “What the fuck, Nancy?” Tony shouted.

  “I’m sorry, he was groping me,” I explained as Tony came towards me.

  “I should’ve let him cut you,” Tony told me and then his hand rose as if to slap me. I cringed but Tony stayed his hand. “Get your fat ass back to work, Nancy,” he said and then wheeled and bent to grab the drunk’s switchblade. “Sorry, folks. Pido disculpas,” Tony told the crowd, apologizing for the episode in both English and Spanish. The patrons seemed to take the altercation in stride. It wasn’t unusual at the Aunt Nena Club to see men fighting or women being threatened. It wasn’t exactly the Hotel Nacional.

  I pushed my way through the crowd, fighting against the anger and pain, to begin servi
ng drinks again. I wasn’t a prostitute but maybe I should have been. Serving drinks and dancing with men for a few centavos barely paid the bills much less made a dent in the debt I owed Tony. Until I paid him back, I was little more than an indentured servant. I wanted to get the hell out of this place and go home. Havana wasn’t the paradise I was led to believe. It wasn’t even close.

  “Honey, why don’t you just give it up,” Rosa asked me. She already knew why. Rosa was in her forties. She came to Havana like I had, to find her fortune, over a decade ago. She gave it up, as she put it, regularly to the sweaty men that frequented the Aunt Nena but that didn’t get her any closer to leaving Havana. She wasn’t in debt to anyone, however. Rosa had surrendered to the dark influences of this place long ago.

  “I can’t, Rosa. I’m not like...that,” I told her avoiding saying what I really wanted, that I wasn’t like her.

  “You could pay Tony back in a matter of weeks, honey. You’ll never make enough entertaining these drunks on the dance floor. You don’t have to fuck them. Just jerk them off or if they don’t smell too bad, give them a blow job. It’s not so bad,” she told me. I wanted to wretch at the thought. There were plenty of men that I might consider doing that with if it meant paying Tony back and getting out of Cuba. Too bad those men didn’t frequent the Aunt Nena.

  Besides, I wasn’t exactly the kind of girl those other men craved. They liked my big bust well enough but they wanted girls that looked like Marilyn Monroe, Jane Mansfield or Jane Russell. I had the bust but not the sleek, hourglass figure. Even if those wealthy men that avoided places like this did want me, I’m not sure I could do it. I wouldn’t be able to look myself in the mirror if I slept with a man for money. I wasn’t a whore. I just wasn’t willing to sell what little dignity I still had at any price.

  “Gee, you make it sounds so...romantic,” I replied.

  “It ain’t romance, honey. It’s business,” Rosa said and then looked past me and frowned. “Tony’s coming,” she said and scurried off. I turned to the couple, an older man and young woman that reeked of rum, sitting nearby to ask them for their order. I could feel Tony’s eyes on me and I sighed as I turned to face him. He stood not two feet away, looming over me his arms crossed and glaring at me. He wore black slacks and a tuxedo shirt with suspenders. Even though he’d shed his jacket and bow tie hours before, Tony’s brow glistened with sweat like it always did. I often wondered if the big man from New Jersey was so angry because of the prickly heat he was forced to endure here in Cuba.