Rocker (Rockstar BBW Romance) (3 page)

I was in agony of desire. He was killing me with ecstasy. I would rise again, a new woman.

“I want you,” I told him.

“Oh, you’re back,” he said, crawling up between my thighs. “Spread your legs.” I did as I was told. “Wider, baby.” I
was
a new woman. I spread them wider. He looked down at my gash with pure lust on his face. He took his monster and ran it up and down my vulva.

“What a woman,” the man of my dreams said to me.

What a woman. To my dying day I won’t forget those three words or the way he said them to me. I felt more beautiful, more accepting of myself, than ever in my entire life.

He pressed into me. “Give it to me, baby,” I moaned.

He withdrew and brought his weight down on me. His slab of meat stretched me like a virgin.

I howled. I moaned. I sweated, panted, and bit my lower lip. He withdrew a little and then in deeper. He repeated that; out a little and then a little deeper with each thrust.

“You’re a goddess of love,” he said as he got deeper in me than anyone ever had, but he was not done yet. He filled me in more ways than one. He brought his weight to bear on me and I could feel our pelvic bones finally meet. I was stretched over him so tightly that the base of his cock was stimulating my clit. His rhythm was legend. He would speed up, shorten the stroke, slow down, use just the tip, and keep it almost all the way in and vibrate. He seemed to know what my body wanted. “You’re so hot,” he said looking into my eyes.

He seemed to know what my soul wanted.

At one point, he slowed down and was using just his tip, when a wave a pleasure started coming over me. “Yes,” I moaned. He kept doing it and I had a whole body orgasm, as the morning sunlight filled the room. It was the first of my life. I’d only ever had clitoris-centered orgasms. I’d never had an orgasm from penetration.

Stevie started to give me every inch of beast and the waves of pleasure continue to come over me. My perception of the world was altered. I would have an amazing life. It dawned on me that I had let my world get small. the new me was expansive.

Stevie pulled out of me and shot warm come across my stomach and chest. He made guttural noises that sounded like a wild animal and fell beside me onto the bed. He rolled off onto the floor, staggered to the bathroom, and came back with a warm, wet washcloth. He cleaned me up gently. He collapsed against me and we fell asleep in each other’s arms.

It was a one night stand.

I awoke to the late afternoon sun. I was used to sleeping late, and after last night’s waves of release I had slept like a rock.

The room was empty except for my clothes, socks and shoes.

Yesterday I would have wished for a night like I had had the night before, but now I wished it had never happened. Why had I been such a fool. He had just used me to get his rocks off.

I searched the room for a note.

I remembered I had quit my much needed job.

I wondered if I could get my car home without being killed.

What about STD’s. Oh God. Could I have gotten pregnant even though he pulled out of me before he came?

I dressed slowly. I put my polo shirt on that had been ripped in two except for the bottom seam. I wrapped it around me as best I could, held it together with one hand at my chest and got the hell out of the Best Western.

Rubenesque
.
“Right,” I said out loud, arms crossed, walking to my Honda. I looked over at Ben’s Food Place. Reality was crashing down around me like giant meteors.

I had walked out on my job. What was I thinking? I could have put up with Kenny. My roommate, who was my mother, was going to be furious. We barely made our bills every month. I saw my car and it filled me with dread. All my problems paled; Stevie had used me.

I got my car home with little problem. Mom was on the sofa, with a cigarette, watching her soaps. “Where you been?”

I ignored her.

“What happened to your shirt?”

I said nothing, just went into my room, closed the door and locked it. I loved my mom. She’s had a tough life. Her father beat her mother. So, when she was 16, she whacked her dad in the head with skillet, and moved out on her own. Through alcoholism and all
my
dad’s affairs, she went to work every day to support my half-sister and me. Until a couple of years ago, when the plant closed down. She gave up looking for work after a year. Seems nobody wanted to employ a broke, overweight, 52-year-old, with no skills except smoking. Now she scrapes by on government aid, food stamps, and my pay check.

My paycheck.

Now I was getting angry. I told Stevie that I couldn’t afford to quit my job. “You already have,” he had said to me. 

I was going down to Sacramento, I decided. I wanted to tell him that he can’t just travel around wrecking people’s lives. I realized that he would probably tell me to fuck off, but I needed to face him, or it would eat me alive.

I burst out of my room, startling Mom, and bound out of the house. The sun was already starting to go down. I got my car over to Tara’s without any problem. “I need your Tahoe,” I told her before she even got the screen door open.

“What?” she said as if it were a ridiculous request.

“Tara,” I said, “I need to borrow your truck, I’ll have it back tomorrow morning.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’ve got to drive down to Sacramento tonight and my car’s still acting up. Can I please borrow your Tahoe for a few hours?”

“I don’t know,” Tara said, acting like I was trying to borrow her kid. She made a face and said, “I don’t think Rodney would be too happy.”

“Are you kidding me, Tara?” I said, “I never ask you for anything. I need one little favor, and you’re going to pretend that Rodney wears the pants in your family?”

“OK, OK,” Tara relented, “don’t get so upset. You can use it, but why, though?”

“I can’t explain right now. I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow, I promise. Just give me the keys; I’ll have it back tomorrow.”

“OK,” Tara said, “I guess. Be careful. Put some gas in it. I don’t want it back on empty.” She grabbed her giant ball of keys off the counter and slowly started to take the SUV key off the ring. I grabbed it from her and slid it off as quickly as I could.

“Thank you. Love you,” I said, kissed her on the cheek, and bolted out the door.

I roared back to my mom’s and my place in the mighty Tahoe. It made my car seem like a moped. I showered, put on jeans and a t-shirt, and hit the road to Sacramento in the late summer dusk.

I found one of my favorite artists on Tara’s radio. It was Citizen Cope’s
Let the Drummer Kick
. I let the beat hit me. I let the tears flow down my cheeks without wiping them off. It felt good to feel.

The next song was upbeat. I turned it off. I rode in silence the rest of the way.

I got on into Sac-town and found Rocky’s, the club that Mercury 7 was playing at tonight. It was getting close to 10 pm. The band was already on, I wasn’t impressed. I could hear kind of whiney and high pitched vocals. I was surprised. I thought Stevie’s voice would be resonant. The crowd wasn’t bad, but I got right in. I pushed my way through to the stage. I was dumbfounded.  Stevie was not in the band.

I went back out to the guy that had stamped my hand, and said, “I came here to see
Mercury 7
.”

“OK,” he said, and just looked at me blankly.

“Well, when do they go on?” I asked.

“Is that them playing?” he said.

“No, I don’t think so,” I said.

“Then you got the wrong night, or the wrong place, lady,” he said, and looked away like he had other important business to attend to.

It was all a lie.

I was stunned. I remembered Stevie’s room. No guitar. Nothing like that. I walked like a zombie toward Tara’s SUV.

Back home, I couldn’t sleep at all that night. Who the hell travels around seducing big women and then leaving them in such a cold hearted way. What a bastard.

I didn’t really expect Stevie to whisk me off to Paris and ask me to have his children, but I thought we would at least be friends after the night we’d shared. How naive. Instead he just snuck out?

I was up at dawn the next day, looking at craigslist. I had to get a job immediately. I got cleaned up and into my black slacks and dark blue blouse. It was as professional as I could get.

I started by going into this glorified burger joint called
All You can Eat
. The craigslist ad had just gone live the night before. I was there as they were opening up. They served breakfast. The good looking, 40-ish, dark-haired, manager/owner glanced at my resume, literally looked me up and down, and he said, “I’m sorry, Miss, but the position has already been filled.”

“Already been filled…” I stopped myself. Why bother. I needed a job, not to get upset at some guy because he thought I was too fat to wait tables at his greasy joint.

The next place I applied was for a bookkeeping job at a plumbing supply place. The list of qualifications was long. It required Quicken, Word, numeric keypad proficiency, and it went on from there. No benefits, no holiday pay, minimum wage. Such was the job market in small town America. I was good on the computer and a fast typist, so I thought I’d give it a shot.

On the way there my Accord stalled and sputtered just as I was pulling out into traffic. Luckily nobody was close to hitting me. The car jumped back to life, and I started to cry. I made myself stop.  I got to the plumbing supply house drenched with sweat, my makeup smeared.

I applied anyway. They said they’d let me know.

That did it. I had applied to all the craigslist ads that had their physical address. I went home and submitted 3 or 4 more resumes online as was requested by the ads.

It was just a little more than 24 hours ago that I felt better about myself than in my whole life, now I felt more desperate than ever.

I drove my Honda over to Ben’s Food Place. Ben was in his office in the back of the store.

“Hey, Ben,” I said, standing in the doorway.

“Hey, April!” he said standing up, “Come on in. Sit down. Everything OK?”

“Did Kenny tell you what happened,” I asked.

“He said you just walked out in the middle of your shift. What happened? I called your house, but your mother said she didn’t know what happened either.”

“Ben, Kenny rubbed up against me. That’s what happened.”

“What the hell?”

“I bent over the beer,” I said, “and he pressed against me from behind.”

“Oh my god, April. This is serious.”

“I know. It was the worst yet.”

“What does that mean?” Ben asked.

“Well, Kenny does get kind of, um, flirty sometimes.” I couldn’t believe I was downplaying Kenny’s abuse.

“Oh really? I was hoping after I hired you, he’d stop that.”

My face flushed as I realized what Ben was saying. He had hired me and put me on the night shift with Kenny. Why? Because I’m unattractive and Kenny wouldn’t mess with me? Ben was staring off into space like he was trying to figure out why Kenny would come on to me.

“I just want my job back,” I said.