I tried everything I could to switch things up, doing whatever I could in the vain hope that it might turn him on or get him to do more than roll on top of me, thrust for a few minutes, and then roll off. Oh, and of course he always loved his blowjobs. Those he had as regular as clockwork. Three sometimes four times a week. To the point, I felt that was all I was good for.
Filling my belly with his slightly bitter cum.
He would lay there with his eyes shut, groaning, “oh baby yes, yes, just like that,” while I worked on him. I tried to pretend he was encouraging me, but I knew in my heart he was imagining some other woman. A woman he was actually attracted to. A thinner, sexier woman. One of those women I had caught him looking at. Women who weren’t anything like me.
I guess even that should have been enough, over the last two years, to completely crush my self-esteem. I look down at my body now, in a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt, and run my hands over it. I don’t like what I feel. The lumps and bumps. They were not there before I started eating his leftover pizzas and chicken.
I know I want to change, to forge a new life for myself. But his words are still ringing in my ears, along with every barbed comment he’s made to me about the way I look. The comparisons to his friend’s girlfriends, leaving pictures of slim, toned women on his computer, buying me clothes a few sizes too small for my birthday because he wanted to give me something to work towards.
But I can do this for myself.
That’s what I have to keep reminding myself. If I want, I can lose this weight and get in shape. I know my thighs will never touch unless I starve myself, but I don’t actually want that. I just want to be a size where I can be happy and feel beautiful.
I’ll start again. I’ll go out there and just be me for a while. Eat when I want to, have great sex with a man who actually thinks I’m attractive, and control my own television’s remote. It’ll be great not to be putting down the toilet seat every time I want to pee and cleaning urine off the floor every damn day. I won’t have to hear his relentless disapproving voice every single time I do anything that he doesn’t like, and quite frankly, that has become almost everything I do. God, the other day, he was complaining about the way I breathe. I can just do one load of washing a week instead of three. I won’t have to suck his small cock again.
Yes, enough of being a doormat.
As I pace up and down the apartment, a smile forms on my face. I don’t want to do this for revenge. I don’t want to do this for him. No, in fact, if he had been a little kinder to me about all of this over the course of our relationship maybe I’d have been more inclined to do something about it before now. I stop pacing suddenly. I never thought about it before, but every time I so much as hinted that I was thinking about losing weight, he did everything in his power to covertly and subtly sabotage me. He brought sweets into the house, he ordered even more take-out at night and he made plans for us to go out for dinner when he knew I was planning on hitting the gym. Or he would suddenly want to cuddle on the couch with a movie.
So, I’m not going to do this to spite him. I’m going to do this in spite of him. Not because I want him back, or because I want him to regret his decision. No, I can’t imagine any time soon where I’d want James back in my life. Candy is welcome to him. I just want to be happy with my body again, to prove to myself that the driven, passionate woman who had existed before James smothered her in fat is still buried inside me somewhere.
I’ll start tonight. Right now.
Chapter 4
Dawn
I feel a wave of excitement overtake me. I don’t have to worry about getting in the way of his schedule or go back and forth on what he might think of my evening’s activities. I can just…do it. Whatever I want.
First things first. I march into my tiny kitchen and open the fridge. I take the tub of margarine from the shelf and, with great satisfaction, dump it into the trash can. I’m going back to butter. Next I open the freezer and trash the shitty soy milk ice-cream I had to pretend was a good alternative to real ice cream. Never again.
And tomorrow I will restock my entire kitchen. I’ll get rid of all the bullshit low fat stuff packed with chemicals and go back to eating healthy natural food. Real food. I’m going back to my old ways. I’ll eat only when I’m hungry.
I go back to the fridge and grab the expensive bottle of champagne I was saving for James’s birthday by the neck. No need for that, anymore. I take it out, peel off the foil, and pop the cork. Champagne bubbles out and I laugh. I pull a flute glass from my cupboard and fill my glass. I wish I could share this bottle with Lisa, my best friend, but she’s on holiday with her man. Never mind. This is about me taking back my life. Celebrating it.
I carry the bottle and the glass back to my living room. I sit on the couch and pull my legs up. I close my eyes and take a sip. Cold bubbles hit my tongue. Yes, this is the life. This is the way every break-up should be handled. I get up and put on some music. None of that pretentious rubbish that James makes us both listen to. No, just good ole, heartfelt music. I know exactly what I want to listen to as well.
Gloria Gaynor’s powerful voice singing I Will Survive fills my living room.
I sing along as I drink my champagne.
“Go, walk out of the door,” I yell as I dance around the room. If James were here now, he would be telling me that the neighbors downstairs will think a baby elephant has been let loose in my apartment.
But he’s not here. So…yay! I will survive.
I drain my glass and refill it. By the time I’ve inhaled three glasses I’m decidedly merry. Candy is welcome to his sorry ass.
When Tom Petty and Stevie Nicks sing Learning To Fly a tear runs down my cheek. Not out of sadness, but just pure emotion. I just know that is going to be my song. I ain’t got wings, but I’m going to fly. I wipe the tear away with the back of my hand.
And you know what else? I’m going to start my new life with a bang.
I look around the apartment for a hint of inspiration, and find it tucked behind the clock in my tiny kitchen. A pamphlet that was given to me when I signed up for the gym down the street from me. I had such high hopes about going three, maybe even four, times a week, but James took care of that enthusiasm. I pull the folded leaflet out, and my membership card drops out. I pick it up and look at it. It was more than a year ago. The thought makes me smile. He never truly could kill my spirit because I have been paying for it all this time. Just waiting for the right moment to reclaim my own strength.
That’s what I’ll do. I’ll head down there right now and check the place out. I haven’t been in since my induction, but I know the place is twenty-four hours, and that there are always members of staff on hand to help out.
I walk to my bedroom and go through my wardrobe to find something appropriate to train in. I pull out my sports bra and a pair of leggings, the thin fabric soft between my fingers, and I can’t believe how nervous I suddenly am. It’s just the gym, after all. But it’s not just that. It’s the enormity of changing myself, shedding off the last of the shit that James stuck me with.
I go back into the living room, down my last glass of champagne. I know I shouldn’t be doing a work out after drinking, but the Dutch courage will be good to get myself through the door where I will no doubt be surrounded by perky, perfect gym bunnies. I wait for the alcohol to settle into my system and my head is buzzing slightly. Okay, I’m ready now. I can actually go out and do this. I want to do this. A good sweat is exactly what I need.
I don’t have work tomorrow so I don’t have to worry about getting back at any time. I can stay out all night, if I want to, and who knows, maybe I will. Okay, that’s wishful thinking, but nevertheless, it’s nice to know I could if I wanted to.
I change into my gym clothes and neon bright shoes, then twist back and forth in front of the mirror, looking at myself, trying to find the confidence within me to step outside dressed like this. I don’t look awful, well, I hope not, but the tight crop top display
s all the lumps and bumps on my body that James hated so much. I must have internalized that dislike, because they are all I can see now, when I look at myself like this. I start to look for a baggy T-shirt to throw over my rolls of fat, but I stop myself. No. I go back to the mirror.
I press my lips together and roll my shoulders back and stare at myself.
“He’s gone and you’re not going to let him get to you anymore,” I tell my reflection.
I grab a bag and a coat, and stride towards the door. I’m ready for this. New life here I come.
Chapter 5
Dawn
It’s past midnight on a Friday night, and there are still a lot of people on the street, probably bar hopping in search of a good time. If Lisa had been around I might have been one of them. She would surely have dragged me out to celebrate. She hates James with a passion.
But this evening I’m actually doing something good for myself. I look down the street and find the gym lit up, all glowing blue lights practically coaxing me to go in. Pulling my jacket around me tightly, I make my way down the sidewalk.
I arrive at the door and peer through the glass doors. I can see a blonde girl at reception, and she looks like one of those gorgeous gym bunnies that immediately makes me feel like a mountain of lard. I take a couple of deep breaths of the cold night air.
I can do this.
I can totally do this.
I force myself to open the door and head inside. If I let women like her (who have actually put the work necessary to look good) put me off my path, I will never have the body I want, or the life I deserve. She looks up from her magazine and flashes me a friendly smile as I step over the threshold. See. That was not so bad. Instantly, I relax, and feel more at ease than I did a few moments before.
“Good evening,” I greet cheerfully.
“How’re you doing?”
“I’m doing well,” I reply, and it’s actually not a lie. The alcohol has made me feel quite mellow and I’m quite proud of myself too. I fumble in my pocket for my wallet, pull out my membership card and pass it to her.
“We have a new system now. You just slide your card into one of those little readers over there.” She gestures towards a set of turnstiles.
I look at them. They were not there before. Also I can see that the place has been really spruced up. “Ah. Okay.”
“Have a great sweat today,” she calls as I turn towards the turnstiles.
I scan the statement for any hint of sarcasm, find none, and make my way through to the vast gym area. I glance at the machines. There have been a lot of changes here too. More machines. It’s been so long since my induction that I’ve pretty much forgotten how to use any of them though. The place is empty, thank goodness, so I won’t have to worry about anyone else watching me fumble with the equipment.
I pick a treadmill, take off my jacket, and hang it over the end. There are mirrors all around me and I try not to look too hard at any of my reflections. I tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear and flex my fingers and kick out my legs. Right. Okay. Then, I climb onto the running machine. Where do I start?
I peer down at the display, but there are so many buttons and workout programs. I just want to get a warm-up in, some light jogging before I dive into something more intense. I press a couple of buttons experimentally, and the whole thing starts tilting up underneath me. Okay, this isn’t quite what I’m looking for, but at least, I know where the incline button is now.
I strain my mind back to my thirty-minute free induction session, but all I remember from that day is the cute guy who was giving out the instructions. He was tall and built, as you’d expect any member of staff at a place like this to be, with strong, broad shoulders that tapered to a slimmer waist and arms that made you want to trace your nails down them.
Not that a guy like that would ever be with a woman like me, of course. No, he’s probably dating someone more like the beautiful, slim girl at reception. Try as I might I can’t imagine him shooting a second glance at me. And as I remember, he didn’t.
I press another button hopefully, and the machine beeps angrily at me. I frown. What the hell am I meant to do with this thing?
Thank God, there is no one here to see how clueless I am.
Chapter 6
Ace
The first thing I think when I set eyes on her is hot damn.
The second thing is oh, man, you’re so fucked.
What a piece of ass. I let my eyes stray up and down her curvy body. Seriously. I can’t remember the last time I’ve had such an intense reaction from just looking at a woman, but she’s turning me on in ways I can’t even begin to comprehend.
Maybe it’s because I spent too much time around women who think keeping fit is the most important thing in the world. Sure, they make clothes look good while walking down a runway, but quite honestly, they are as sexy as an empty park bench on a winter day. A woman should have curves, and that’s from a guy who’s seriously into fitness. Sure, I used to take advantage of the fact that I spend every working hour around spray-tanned, often surgically enhanced, toned-up bodies, but these days I just can’t dredge up much interest in them.
A woman like that?
Real curves?
Now, that’s a whole different story.
She’s wearing a pair of leggings that cling to her thick thighs and perfectly accentuate the curve of her ass. Her top half is encased in a pink and black Lycra top, but despite the stretchy materials best efforts to keep her breasts contained those babies are almost spilling out.
With one hand she brushes away strands of honey and sunshine hair that have worked their way out of her ponytail and with the other she prods at the machine as if she expects it to blow up in her face.
Yup, perfect opening. It’s my job to ensure that all my clients have the best experience possible. I make my way over to her.
She hears my footsteps and whips her head around. Hell, the last time I saw eyelashes that long they were on a camel. And her eyes are enormous pools of surprised caramel. And her lips… Her lips are plump and red. Jesus, I can already imagine what they’ll feel like wrapped around my dick. My cock feels hot and hard inside my tracks. Down boy. I’m too old to be getting a hard-on just by looking at random chicks.
I arrive by her side and her cheeks are on fire. Fuck, that’s so fucking cute. We stare at each other. There is a noise from the reception area and it pulls me out of my hypnotized state. Fuck, I’m at work, and I need to chill before I do something I can’t take back. But there is something about this woman that just makes me want to throw her on the rubber floor and fuck her hard. I can see her, hair wild, both her mouth and pussy swollen, red and open begging me to fuck her again and again until she drips with my cum.
I don’t know what she sees in my eyes, but suddenly she crosses her arms over her chest and steps off the machine so quickly, her breasts bounce. My eyes follow them. They are full. Very full. I think of her: naked and impaled on my cock, while I pull those heavy breasts to my mouth and suck both nipples at the same time. It’s clear she’s embarrassed to be caught without any idea of what she’s doing, but fuck me, I feel light-headed with raw lust for her.
Instead of my usual professional smile, I’m fucking sure I must be wearing a shit eating grin. “Can I help you?”
She drags her gaze from mine, and I see all kinds of thoughts fly across her flustered face. Her lips part, and she tears her teeth through that soft bottom lip.
“Er…yes.” She points to the machine. “I just…Well…” She shakes her head. “I have no idea how this thing works,” she confesses.
Somebody fucked up, but I’m not going to complain. This woman is a goddess. I am close enough to feel the heat coming from her body. I clear my throat. “Didn’t you get an induction session when you joined?”
She looks up at me through those thick lashes. “Yeah,” she admits sheepishly. “But it was a long time ago and I haven’t come in since…”
“No problem. We ge
t a lot of that here.” The turmoil inside my body doesn’t show in my voice. It sounds light and teasing.
She grins suddenly, and her whole face lights up. I stare at her in amazement. Where has this woman been all my life? “If you want to step onto the machine I can show you how to work it,” I suggest.
“I don’t want to take up your time…” she mumbles, looking unsure and hopeful at the same time.
I gesture around the room and raise my eyebrows. “Does it look like I’m busy?”
She looks down and a strand of silky hair falls over her face. I have to fight the urge not to reach out and brush it away. “Trust me, it’s my job to make sure that everyone has a great work out.”
“Fair point,” she concedes, and climbs onto the machine once more.
My eyes stray to her breasts. I want to lick them.
“So, how do I work this thing properly?” she asks.
I stop staring at her like a love-struck puppy. “Let me just…” I reach out and press the green start button. The treadmill begins to move beneath her. My arm brushes against hers as I go to increase the speed, and the brief contact sends a shiver of desire through my system. She seems to notice it too. Because she jumps away.
“Oh, right.” She nods, her eyes carefully averted from mine. She doesn’t seem to want me to leave quite yet, though.
“So this button controls the speed, and this one here, the incline.” I explain all the other functions so she will be able to input her own details into her workout program. “And this red lever here is to make an emergency stop,” I finish.
Sweet Revenge_A curvy girl romance Page 2