Lush Curves

by Delilah Fawkes

  Lush Curves (A BBW Erotic Romance)

  By Delilah Fawkes

  Aolani

  The carafe toppled off the counter, and I watched in slow-motion horror as it headed straight for the hardwood floor of the studio. Coffee splashed everywhere, making me shriek as the liquid hit my white blouse and began running down my cleavage and into my bra.

  “Shit,” I said under my breath. “Shit, shit, shit.”

  This was my first time helping out with a photo shoot, and I was already making a mess of things. I grabbed a handful of paper towels and threw them down on the spill, hoping to contain it while I dealt with the coffee ruining my new top.

  If the marketing director saw the mess I was making of the craft services table, or of myself, for that matter, he’d flip a gasket. The shoot was already running a day behind, the models were restless, and he was taking out his anxiety on all of us at whatever chance he could get. I suppose it’s not easy pleasing the CEO of a company that designs and sells yachts to the wealthy, but the man could still use a serious attitude adjustment.

  “Please, baby. Just get back on top of the set piece. You’re at sea! You’re loving life! How hard can it fucking be, sweetie?!”

  I blotted at my chest, the fabric sticking to my curves in a way that made me want to cover up and hide. I glanced over at the willowy blonde that Martin, the photographer, was yelling at. She crossed her bony arms over her bikini and glowered at him in a way that made me snicker. Although as I looked down at my own body, my ample hips and breasts, the smile faded away. Growing up in Hawaii, I’d never felt out of place, but here in L.A., I was plus size, and stuck out like a sore thumb. My thick sheet of black hair flowing down my back and brown skin certainly didn’t help among the sea of shimmering blondes.

  I sighed, wondering why I’d come here in the first place. Sure, I wanted to be a photographer with my own studio, but that dream seemed farther away than ever here, instead of just within reach, like I’d hoped. Instead of working my way up, I felt trapped, stuck in entry-level hell.

  I remembered the words my grandma used to tell me when we’d sit on her lanai watching the sunset. She’s run her calloused hand over my hair and tell me, “If you don’t chase your dreams, Aolani, how will you ever catch them?”

  So here I was, taking the advice of a woman who’d never left the islands, feeling like I was completely adrift. And about to get screamed at if I didn’t clean up this spill pronto.

  I bent down to work with the soggy mess of paper towels at my feet when I heard an unfamiliar voice behind me. There was a hint of Scottish brogue to it, which made me glance over my shoulder, curiosity winning out over fear of my boss’ wrath.

  My breath caught in my throat.

  Standing next to the fake yacht deck and cranky model was the most gorgeous man I’d ever seen. He was wearing a light grey suit that fit his body to a tee, and I noticed it hugging his shoulders and waist in a way that suggested a lithe, muscular build beneath the exquisitely tailored fabric. His chestnut-colored hair was long, falling in waves just past his chin, but swept back away from his face in a way that tamed it into sophistication. A hint of stubble ran along his jaw, making me want to reach out and touch him, to run my fingers along his cheek to see how rough his beard was. But when he turned and gazed at me, it was his hazel eyes that held me captive.

  That is, until I realized I was on all fours, pointing my rear at him, with a handful of dripping trash. His eyes traveled over my body, taking in the view, before casually moving back to Martin and his shoot. I scrambled up and threw the towels away, then tried hastily to blot my chest again. Who was this man and what was he doing on set? He seemed like someone important.

  Way to make a great first impression, Aolani... Ugh.

  I looked down and sighed. My white blouse was rapidly turning translucent, the top of my bra showing through the thin fabric. If I just could make it out to my car, I had a jacket I could slip on.

  “Lani!” Martin screamed.

  I crumpled the paper towel in my hand, and winced. Why did he have to need me now? I crossed my arms and walked over, inwardly grimacing as I approached the photographer and Mr. Mysterious. He was watching me, a hint of a smile playing over his lips. I wanted to sink into the ground rather than meet that gaze with coffee still trickling down my body, making a beeline for my underwear.

  “Lani, this is Gavin Fletcher. He’ll be overseeing the rest of the shoot. Stan said to get him set up at the Hilton before you go home tonight, yes? And schedule us at the pier tomorrow. The lighting in this studio is fucking killing me.”

  Gavin held out his hand, his eyes twinkling as he looked me over, his smirk growing into a mischievous grin when he saw the wardrobe malfunction I was failing to hide.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said. “Lani is a beautiful name.”

  “Thank you... It’s actually Aolani,” I mumbled.

  I took his hand, trying not to react to the way my hand tingled when it met his. His skin was electric, and I couldn’t help but feel the charge in the air, like something just passed between us. As his eyes dragged over the silk sticking to my cleavage, I wondered what he was thinking. I was torn between wanting to cover up again, and to keep holding his hand as long as he’d let me. I jerked my hand back and smiled nervously.

  “I’ll make sure everything’s taken care of for you, Mr. Fletcher.”

  “Thank you, Aolani, but call me Gavin,” he said, his slight brogue making my heart skip a beat. “I’m looking forward to working with you.”

  I turned and walked toward the exit, hoping to change and make my phone calls from the privacy of the parking lot. But as I turned in the doorway, I noticed Gavin Fletcher was still looking at me, that hint of a smile playing across his lips.

  ***

  The next day, I dressed with care, wearing my most flattering black skirt and wrap blouse, and brushing my hair until it shone. I stood in front of the mirror, chewing my lip, wondering why I was bothering. He was in charge of the shoot, not my blind date. He was the boss, and I was the photographer’s assistant. It was as simple as that.

  But as I remembered the way he’d looked at me, the way his eyes hugged the curves of my body, sliding over them boldly, without a hint of embarrassment, made my whole body tingle.

  I ran my hands over my face and grabbed my keys.

  Put him out of your head, Aolani. With the model there, he’s not even going to know you exist anyway.

  I sighed and hopped in the car, preparing myself for yet another day of blending into the background.

  ***

  When I arrived at the docks, a breeze kicked up, whipping my hair into my face. I pushed it back and shielded my eyes from the sunlight, squinting up at the shining white yacht we’d be shooting on today. Silver lettering on the bow spelled out The Fiona.

  I tucked my purse under my arm and climbed the ramp, hoping to God Martin would be in a better mood today working out in the sun and fresh air. But when I reached the deck, the sounds of high-pitched sobbing met my ears.

  What has the bastard done now?

  The blonde model from yesterday, Sophie, was sitting cross legged on the wooden deck, clutching a life preserver and weeping so hard she was shaking. Her mascara ran down her face, and I wondered what on earth could have caused such a melt down. I ran over to her and dropped down on my knees.

  “What happened, hon?” I put an arm around her shoulder.

  She looked up and sniffled loudly, trembling in her nautical blue bikini. Despite the sun warming the deck, she seemed chilled to the bone.

  “It’s all wrong. The business man, whoever he is, says the shoot isn’t right, and I’m the problem.”

  Tears ran down her face again, and I pulled her into a hug. />
  “Who said that?”

  “The CEO! That Fletcher guy!” She wailed, clutching my blouse. “I was Top Model! Who does he think he is saying I’m the problem? He’s the one running this shitty campaign in the first place.”

  I furrowed my brow. Gavin Fletcher was CEO of the yacht manufacturer? And he was taking over himself?

  Martin stormed onto the deck from below, wielding his camera like a weapon.

  “We’d set the theme of the campaign months ago, and now you want to up and change everything? Do you think I love wasting my time?”

  My heart skipped a beat when I saw Gavin emerge behind him, looking mouth-watering in a white, cable-knit sweater and navy slacks. His hair was tousled from the wind, and for a moment, all I could think about was what it would feel like to run my hands through it.

  “I don’t want to waste anyone’s time, Martin, least of all my own. But this just simply isn’t working. We need to change it up.”

  “What’s not working about it? We have a lovely girl in a bikini, holding the railing, looking out toward a beautiful future. That’s what Live Beautifully is all about, for fuck’s sake! The life of luxury that everyone dreams about.”

  “Yes, but you and I seem to have very different ideas about beauty, Martin, and luxury, for that matter. That’s what’s not working. This campaign needs a makeover.”

  “Well, what the fuck do you propose then, Sir? You’re the boss after all.”

  Martin stuck a cigarette between his lips so hard I thought he was going to bite it in half, and lit up, glaring at the CEO. Now that I knew who he was, my stomach was in knots, waiting to see if he’d fire him. Hell, if he’d fire us all.

  “I am, Martin,” Gavin said, his voice low. The photographers’s eyebrows raised at his steely tone. “Don’t ever forget that.”

  There was a moment of silence, unspoken tension building to a crescendo between the two men. Finally, Martin nodded, sucking hard on his cigarette. Gavin smiled then, and I could tell the battle of wills was over. The mysterious Scot had won.

  “To answer your question, I’d like to try a different model. Someone who I think would better represent the feel of this campaign.”

  He turned to me, still comforting the frail blonde. “I want her.”

  “But that’s what I’ve been saying! She’s perfect.” Martin gestured at the girl in my arms, ash flying off the end of his cigarette.

  “Not your model, Martin. Aolani. We’ll shoot with her today.” He walked over to me and reached his hand down to help me up. “That is, of course, if you’re up for the task?”

  A rushing noise filled my ears as I stared up at him, my brain whirring to process what he’d just said. Automatically, I put my hand in his, watching in stunned silence as his large hand wrapped around mine, feeling the electricity pulse between us once more as he pulled me to my feet.

  “So how about it?” He said, his voice low and lilting. “Will you be my beauty?”

  He wanted me. He wanted me, Aolani Kahale to be a model?

  I’d never done anything like that in my life, much less ever considered being on that side of a camera. Fear stabbed through me at the thought of posing in front of Martin, in front of people I worked with, in front of him, but when his hazel eyes met mine, the corners crinkling in a way that made my insides melt, I heard myself forming the words, “Alright.”

  “What?!” Sophie shrieked below me.

  Gavin ignored her, his gaze still trained on mine. I realized he was still holding my hand, and pulled gently away. I didn’t want to make this more awkward than they already were. He clapped his hands in front of him, grinning in a way that made my insides melt.

  “Excellent! That’s settled, then. I wasn’t sure of your size, but I had a few things brought down today just in case you’d agree. If you’d please go below deck?”

  He pressed his hand into the small of my back, guiding me. The pressure was warm and reassuring, but as he marched me toward the stairs, his words caught up to me. What kind of things had he brought?

  And what exactly had I just agreed to?

  ***

  I stared down at the white bikini in horror. My cleavage was out in full form, while the bikini bottoms hugged my hips, tinier than anything I’d ever dare buy for myself. What the hell was Gavin Fletcher thinking putting me in something like this? And he wanted me to go outside in it, much less get my picture taken?

  Yeah, right! That was absolutely not happening.

  “We haven’t got all day, Lani,” Martin barked from on deck.

  I put my head in my hands, sighing deeply before brushing my hair back from my eyes. What the hell had I gotten myself into?

  There was a gentle rapping on the bedroom door, and I opened it, wishing I had a towel to cover up with. Gavin’s gold-flecked eyes met mine, and I stepped back to let him in. He sucked in a breath, looking me over in that brash way of his, his lips curling into a grin.

  “Now that’s what I’ve been hoping for,” he said.

  I laughed nervously and crossed my arms in front of my body. “I don’t know if I can do this. You heard Martin out there.”

  Gavin reached forward and put a hand on my arm, smoothing his large palm over my skin. I shivered beneath his touch, feeling the heat from a connection I wondered if he felt, too. Judging by the heat in his gaze, he did, but how was that even possible? I couldn’t be reading him right.

  “You look stunning, Aolani,” he said, that dangerous, bad-boy smile of his making my toes curl. “You’re exactly what I’ve been waiting for. Exactly what this campaign needs. Please say you’ll try? For me?”

  I looked down at my feet, feeling the heat creeping onto my cheeks. He didn’t seem like he was messing with me, but I seriously doubted I would photo better than the blonde he’d just fired. Then again, he was the CEO, and he was asking me to try. I had to comply if I wanted to keep him from firing our firm, didn’t I? Maybe winning him back after Martin had pissed him off would get me brownie points with our department head, too. Maybe more opportunities would open up if they saw I was a team player...

  If it meant embarrassing myself in a bikini to get a chance to move up, I’d do it. I closed my eyes, thinking of my grandma’s words, and took a deep breath.

  “Okay, fine. Let’s get this over with.”

  “Brilliant,” he said, beaming down at me. His hand was still on my shoulder, and now he gave it a squeeze before releasing me. “That’s my girl.”

  My arm felt cold absent his touch, and for a moment, I wondered what it would be like, to really be Gavin Fletcher’s girl. To have him hold me in his strong arms, to run my hands through his hair, and feel his stubble against my cheek as I breathed him in. What it would be like to meet those sensual lips of his, to feel his heat stealing over me...

  I shook my head and followed him out of the cabin onto the deck of the yacht. I had to get myself under control. Thoughts of what I couldn’t have were only a distraction, and I had a job to do.

  ***

  Gavin

  The moment I saw her, I knew she was something special.

  I wanted to laugh when I saw her bending over that coffee spill, looking back at me in such a vulnerable position, but something in those deep, black eyes and, let’s face it, the arresting sight of her bum pointing straight at me, made me clear my throat and look away before she got the wrong idea. I wanted her, my body reacting to hers, but I had business to attend to. And I certainly didn’t need to be leering at any employees.

  But when Martin introduced us, and I felt her small hand in mine, I couldn’t help but feel the connection, couldn’t deny the chemistry between us. With her flowing, black hair and gorgeous skin, she was one of the most beautiful women I’d ever seen, and my thoughts wandered to the strictly unprofessional.

  What would her body look like set free from her business attire? What would those gorgeous curves of hers look like clad only in a teeny, tiny Bond Girl bikini?

  Now, standing on the deck
of my yacht, I marveled at her bravery. That a person with no experience modeling would have the confidence to get up there and give it a go was impressive, to say the least. I asked her to do it--Hell, I nearly begged her--but I don’t know if I could have done the same, if she’s asked me to don a Speed-o in front of a wanker like Martin, not to mention the rest of the crew.

  Aolani was something else. Something remarkable. And even though I knew I shouldn’t get involved, I wanted to know more about her.

  “Um... Where should I stand?”

  Aolani’s voice cut through my thoughts. She stood near the cabin, the anxiety in her eyes as clear as day, twisting her hands together in front of her body. That beautiful body that should never be covered up.

  Martin opened his mouth to answer, probably to tell her to quit fidgeting, but I spoke first.

  “Would you please join me by the railing?”

  She glanced at Martin’s frown, then nodded to me, obviously relieved I’d be giving the instructions. Martin fumed next to me, but I’d deal with him later. It was too important that she remain calm and comfortable in order to get the shot right.

  She wasn’t one of his models, who cut their teeth on the abuse of bastards like him snapping away. It was painfully obvious she didn’t know how beautiful she was, or what she was capable of. She didn’t know what I saw when I looked at her.

  She was next to me now, looking up at me with those almond eyes, drawing me to her with that inexplicable tug I felt whenever she was near. I could smell the scent of coconut in her hair, and I couldn’t stop my eyes from traveling downward, over her ample cleavage held perfectly by the cups of her white bikini. My eyes traveled back up to hers, and I cleared my throat.

  I had to remain professional.

  “I’m picturing you leaning over the railing, Aolani, your elbows resting gently on the wood as you look out to sea. Can you try that for me now?”