Full Figured 2

by Alexis Nicole

  “What?” I thought back to what I said. “Oh, my goodness, you know what I mean.”

  Cortez looked me up and down hungrily. “You look great and feel even better.” He pulled me in, and wrapped his hands around my waist again, and I felt heaven in his touch. Thank God we had a corner table, because this time I couldn’t help but hold him; it felt natural. Gazing into each other’s eyes, the general consensus was to not be a public spectacle, but we couldn’t fight the feeling. Right there, as though no one else were around, our lips said hello and didn’t know how to say good-bye in English, so we kept them together to explore passion in whatever language they spoke.

  It felt like we were kissing for a record-breaking amount of time, but, in actuality, I knew the instrumental song playing, and our lips touched right at the beginning of it and it hadn’t even made it to the first chorus yet. We pecked at each other a few times before sitting in our respective seats next to, and not across from, each other.

  “Wow, you’re here. This is insane.” I adjusted my legs. “What are you doing here?” I asked again out of the pure shock that I was in.

  “I’m very proud of you,” he said. “You’ve been dieting, and had to deal with me eating chicken, ribs, drinking fish grease, and snacking on cookies in your ear on the phone while you were having salads, veggie burger patties, and rabbit food,” Cortez joked. “This is the least I can do.”

  “Wow!” I was flabbergasted. “You didn’t have to come all the way here. We could’ve cooked and eaten on the phone tonight.”

  “Damn!” he exclaimed. “Sounds like you don’t want to see me.”

  “Oh, no,” I corrected him. “That couldn’t be further from the truth.”

  “Good,” he said. “Let me leave the corny shit alone and just tell you that I just needed to see you.” He touched my face. “All the talking we have done has truly piqued my interest.”

  “Wow.” I gulped.

  He looked uncomfortable. “Man, you got a brother feeling a little self-conscious about dropping in,” he said. “Did you have plans this afternoon or something?”

  “No,” I said. “Honestly, I’m just a little lost for words.”

  He asked, “In a good way, I presume?”

  “In a great way,” I answered. “Oh, and thank you for the beautiful flowers. I’ve been calling you since this morning.”

  “I know.” He smiled. “I was at the airport and I’m not a very good liar. I would’ve said something to give myself away, so I just couldn’t answer my phone, sorry.”

  “No problem.” I was looking at him as if I were staring at a ghost. “I can’t believe that you came all the way here for me.”

  “You don’t think you’re worth it?” he asked.

  “Oh, of course I am,” I told him. “I’m worth flying to the moon for.”

  “Fly me to the moon. Let me play among the stars.” He tried his best at Sinatra. “Let me see what spring is like on Jupiter and Mars.”

  “Very good.” I was impressed. “I didn’t know that you could sing.”

  “I have to keep some things to myself. That’s my way of making you come back for more,” he said.

  “Keep it coming then.” I smiled.

  “You hungry?” he asked.

  “Extremely,” I answered.

  Fogo de Chão was an authentic Brazilian steakhouse. The ambience was warm, with white linen tablecloths, live flowers, candles, and soft music whispering from above. The gourmet salad bar was extensive. The waitress brought the endless sides, which were warm cheese bread, crispy hot polenta, garlic mashed potatoes, and caramelized bananas. You are given a round card that is red on one side and green on the other. You turn your card green side up, signaling that you are ready for the gaucho chefs to begin carving and serving your meat tableside. And as long as your card is green side up, they will keep visiting your table to bring you more and more meat. I’m talking sirloin, filet mignon, rib eye, beef ribs, lamb, chicken, pork ribs, and sausage.

  I felt the threads on my jeans giving way one by one and threatening to embarrass me, so I finally flipped my card to red. I probably had every type of meat there was. The service was great and the food was even better. I also had a drink, my first alcoholic beverage in two weeks. Cortez and I ate, drank, and talked, and then talked, talked, and talked. When we left the restaurant, it was almost four.

  “Where to?” I asked after the valet driver brought the car up.

  “Um.” He thought for a while. “The building that you were supposed to take me to.”

  “Oh, the Hancock Building,” I said. “We can go up to the ninety-sixth floor where the bar is and take in the view, it’s fabulous.” I loved going up there.

  At the Hancock, we parked and made our way to the elevators. Since it was still midday, there was no line, and we were able to get a table by the window.

  I marveled as I towered over the Chicago skyline. “This is amazing, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, this is pretty awesome,” he said, as he looked down in awe.

  “You know,” I pointed out, “you can see four states from up here: Illinois, of course; Wisconsin; Indiana; and Michigan.”

  “I’m sure that’s true and all,” he said, “but I see something even more amazing not even two feet away from me.”

  “Do you?” I blushed. “And what might that be?”

  “The drink menu.” He had a great sense of humor. “I need a drink if I’m going to be this high up.” He laughed. “Of course, I meant you, but I’m sure I have told you enough today just how great you are in every aspect; I don’t want to overdo it.” He pulled my chair out.

  We sat down, and Cortez ordered a bottle of champagne. It was served in a gorgeous sterling silver bucket filled with ice, accompanied by two champagne flutes garnished with a strawberry inside each. He poured the champagne, and then put pressure on me to come up with a toast. “Well, instead of toasting, how about we make wishes?”

  “Sounds fun,” he said. “What’s yours?”

  “Hold up, nosey,” I slowed him down. “It doesn’t work like that.”

  “School me then,” he said suggestively.

  “Oh, I will school you.” I looked at how his chest sat up so chiseled in his shirt. “I say we write down three wishes each and exchange them, but we can only open one each time we spot another couple kissing.”

  “Deal.” He agreed to my corny game. “You have paper?”

  “I should,” I said. I looked through my purse and found some pink Post-it notes . . . that had to have fallen out of my filing cabinet into my purse, because I would never steal office supplies . . . right? “Here you go.” I gave him three.

  For about five minutes, we pondered our wishes, wrote them down, and then exchanged the papers. We were thirty minutes into a completely new conversation when he pointed at something behind me. “Wish time,” he said. I turned to see an elderly couple holding hands and pecking on the lips. He opened up one of the notes and read it loudly. “ ‘I wish I would’ve met you five years ago.’ ” He paused. “Why do you wish that?”

  I started bragging. “I told you how bad my body used to be back in the day,” I said. “I would love to look like that now.”

  “Well, we all were in better shape years ago, but how would it make any difference in who you are today?” he asked.

  Oh, God, this is where all of my insecurities could be brought to the light.“I guess it wouldn’t change me from being who I am, but I would be a little more confident and more open to do certain things.”

  “Things like what?” he asked.

  I was setting myself up to sound like a real loser. “Wearing a two-piece bikini, for one, so you won’t be getting me out on the beach,” I said.

  “Listen,” he said to get my attention. “There’s nothing wrong with you, so you need to walk around with more confidence in yourself.” He charmed me. “I’m sitting here in front of what has to be the best view of Chicago in the whole damn city, and yet I cannot stop look
ing at you.” He went on. “I think you’re incredibly beautiful, and I support what you’re trying to do with your weight for your health, but I personally wouldn’t change a thing about you.”

  “Thank you,” I said, touching his arm. When I had first started my diet, I told him that my doctor suggested that I lose weight. Doctor’s orders were always a great statement to use, because then people wouldn’t hit you with the sympathy “you don’t need to lose weight” speech to try to not offend you by agreeing that you could shed a few pounds.

  “If you don’t believe me, then read this.” He pulled out one of his wishes that I should read first. “Read it.”

  “Let’s see here.” I unfolded the paper and held it close enough for me to read his small handwriting. “ ‘I wish to be making love to you before midnight.’ Don’t be so shy,” I said sarcastically.

  “It’s just a wish,” he said. “No pressure. All wishes don’t come true.”

  “I know,” I said. But if I had anything to do with it, his wish would be reality at quarter to nine.

  “Just please don’t run out on me this time,” he begged. “I’m scared to go to the restroom.” He chuckled.

  I drew an x over my heart with my index finger. “I promise.”

  “Thanks.” He winked. “Because I would hate to have to resort to using handcuffs to keep you near me.”

  My eyebrows lifted. “Handcuffs?” I asked.

  “Yep,” he said. “The real kind.”

  “Mm.” I smiled. “I can dig it.”

  “Really?” he flirted. “I can dig you.”

  I spotted a couple sitting by the piano, smooching. “Oh, look.” I pointed and then snatched up one of his wishes. “Kissers over there.” I unfolded his paper and read it aloud. “‘I wish I could have one last conversation with my father,’ ” his words read. Lord! Who told him to get all sentimental? This wasn’t the time for a mournful exchange, not while we were drinking and a mile up in the sky. However, because it was obviously something that was on his mind, I asked, “What would you say to your dad?”

  “Actually, I would just want to listen to what he would say to me,” he said. “I would love to soak up his wisdom. Just a fraction of what he knew would make me ten times the man I am.” He shook his head from side to side. “I would love to hear his voice, it wouldn’t even matter what he had to say.”

  I didn’t know how deep into talking about his dad he wanted to get, so I simply asked, “How old were you when he passed away?”

  “I was seventeen,” he recalled. “A senior in high school.”

  I grimaced, and commented, “Wow, that must’ve been tough.”

  “Tough isn’t the word,” he said, grabbing for my next wish. He unfolded it and read it. “ ‘I wish that you lived here and we were able to do these things all the time.’” I blushed as he read my words. “Yeah, that would be nice,” he agreed. “That would be real nice.”

  Right then, Colbie Caillat’s “Bubbly” played softly through the speakers. “Oh, my goodness, I love this song. I haven’t heard it in a while, though.”

  “Wanna dance?” he asked.

  I giggled. “Yeah, if there were a dance floor here.”

  “We don’t need one,” he said, reaching for my hand. “Let’s make our own.” He pulled me out of my chair.

  “Are you serious?” I asked.

  “Yes,” he said. “Sometimes, you just have to do what you want to do, and to hell with not being in the right place to do it. You may never make it to wherever the right place is.” He pulled me close. “Let’s dance.”

  At first, I felt foolish dancing without a dance floor or anyone else in the room dancing, but before Colbie really started to “bubble,” I was nestled against him as if my life depended on it. The feeling she described in the song was the way Cortez made me feel. “It starts in my toes/ make me crinkle my nose/where ever it goes I always know.”

  After the dance, I turned and put my back on his chest. I was facing the window, admiring the awesome view. “Thank you for making me do that,” I said over my shoulder.

  “What, dance?” he asked.

  “Yes,” I said. “I would’ve never thought of doing it or had the guts to.”

  “There’s nothing to it.” He rubbed my shoulders. “You have to seize your own moments or you won’t have any moments, to talk about.”

  “That’s true,” I said. “Well, thank you.”

  “No.” He kissed my earlobe. “Thank you.” Cortez turned me to the side, and his lips caught the corner of mine. I turned so that I could give them to him fully. “Looks like we’re on to the third wish,” he said.

  “Who?” I looked around to find the couple he was referring to. “I don’t see anyone.”

  He tickled my sides. “You and me.”

  “Oh!” I laughed.

  “Okay.” I picked up the last piece of paper. I was eager to read it. “ ‘I wished you lived in Jacksonville.’” I blushed, and didn’t feel so bad about my earlier wish. However, the wish of mine he was about to read was something I shouldn’t have owned up to. I actually didn’t expect us to go through with these wishes; I just wanted to get out of the toast. I thought for sure we would’ve been caught up and not given it a second thought.

  “Drum roll please,” he said, as he unfolded the last torn piece of paper. “‘I wish I already knew how big you were, so that I could stop obsessing about it.’” He chuckled. “Whoa.”

  “I never in a million years thought that we would actually remember to read these wishes,” I said, blushing. “Oh my God!”

  “Listen, let’s get out of here,” he said while caressing my back. “Let me put your mind to rest.”

  “You wanna ease my mind?” I flirted and raised my eyebrows.

  “Yeah, I’ll ease your mind.” He then whispered directly into my ear, “I wanna ease a lot of things on your body.”

  “Mm.” I rubbed his chest. “Are you in the easing business?”

  “I’m in the pleasing business, girl.” He nibbled on my ear. “I want you to be a little hungry for me, so that I can ease and please you.”

  I playfully bit his cheek. “Is this hungry enough?”

  He smiled. “Put on your coat, and let’s go find out.” He waved the server over, and, in minutes, we were waiting in a long line to get onto the elevator. We zoomed out of the garage. Strangely, there wasn’t much traffic, giving me less time to think of creative ways to hide my stomach if things really got on and poppin’.

  Back at the hotel, the minute we hung up our coats, he pinned me up against the wall. He looked me in my eyes and reminded me, “There will be no running away tonight.” His chest smashed into my heaving cleavage, as his lips inched in closer to mine. He took control of the kiss, and made it even more passionate than I expected. His hands traveled down the sides of my body until they were both resting on my sides. He then lifted me away from the wall so that he could get a feel of my behind.

  With lips still locked, he backed himself into the opposite wall of the corridor, so I became the aggressor. I pulled his tongue into my mouth and playfully sucked on it, sending his imagination running wild on what else I could suck on to make his toes curl. I rubbed his chest ravenously, and I explored his mouth with the same fire-hot intensity. “So,” I repeated the question from earlier, “is this hungry enough?”

  He ran his fingers through my hair. “No, I want you mouth-watering hungry.”

  “You have something that will make my mouth water?” I asked seductively.

  “Oh, do I.” He smirked. “I have something that will make your mouth do all sorts of things.”

  “Is that so?” I nibbled on his bottom lip.

  He reached for my hand and rested it on the front of his pants. I went in for the squeeze-and-rub test to determine if he had something worth my while, or if I had another Mitch on my hands. From the feel of it, it was very thick. I couldn’t tell the exact length, but the circumference was impressive. “Does that make your
mouth water?” he asked.

  “Um.” I pretended to think. “No, not yet.” I continued to rub him. “Maybe a full presentation might help.”

  “I can make that happen.” He undid his belt and zipper, and pushed his pants toward the floor, when suddenly out of the peephole of his silk boxers sprung the head of a caramel delight. Our lips met again, and I couldn’t help stroking his solid, thick eight inches.

  “Mm,” I found myself moaning as I fondled him below.

  “Yeah,” he groaned, and stepped completely out of his pants. “Mm.” I tightened my grip on his fat shaft, and softly squeezed him to the tip of his meat several times, watching his eyes flutter in ecstasy on each stroke. “Oh, shit,” he said, biting into his lips. “Whew!”

  “Is this hungry enough?” I playfully asked, as I jerked him off and licked his lips.

  “I’d have to put it in your mouth to see how hungry you really are,” he said. “You down for that?”

  “I might be.” I batted my eyes like a good girl and said, “Let’s see.”

  As he walked over to the bed, I made it my personal duty to turn off the lights in the room along the way. Only the bathroom light needed to be on, plus it provided enough of a glow for us to see each other. When I made it to the bed, he was coming out of his T-shirt, and was completely naked before me.

  “Get comfortable,” he said while lying back onto his elbows. “Get naked.”

  I would’ve much rather he take off my clothes than for him to lie back and watch. I felt like a spectacle, but I slowly pulled down my jeans, and, after stepping out of them, I unbuttoned several of the buttons on my brown top and exposed my lacey beige bra. “Take it off,” he instructed, as his hand caressed his piece slowly.

  Taking off my shirt wasn’t in the plan as yet. I wanted to first impress him with my “little gag reflex” tricks before he saw more of my body, so I approached the bed anyway. “Take your shirt off. I rolled my eyes in the dim lighting and granted his wish, revealing one of my only matching bra-and-panties sets. “Very nice.” He smiled. “Come put this in your mouth and show me just how hungry you are.”