Total pages in book: 33
Estimated words: 30766 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 154(@200wpm)___ 123(@250wpm)___ 103(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 30766 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 154(@200wpm)___ 123(@250wpm)___ 103(@300wpm)
First of all, Maria pursued me. Intensely. She wasn’t exactly shy about it either, leaving me messages, emails, and even standing outside my building once or twice. So what the hell? It’s not like I was some monster who lured her into my lair. If anything, she’s the stalker.
Second, Maria and I were never exclusive. For God’s sake, we’d only even been on four or five dates total. She was never my girlfriend, and we never even had the “define the relationship talk.” So what the hell? Clearly, this Casey Henderson person is ready to pass judgment when she knows nothing about the actual situation.
This advice columnist is obviously off her rocker, and a poor journalist to boot. She completely crossed the line professionally, not to mention personally. Because I’m hurt, I really am.
But fine. When I was a kid, my dad told me that only cowards hide behind the written word. He told me that anybody who couldn't say those same words to my face weren’t just cowards, they were flat-out wrong.
So yeah, let’s see if Casey Henderson can speak the truth when confronted with power. Let’s see how her bravado holds up once she’s actually met billionaire Pierce Lane … because the curvy brunette’s going to get a hand on that curvy bottom if I have anything to do with it.
3
Casey
It’s actually been a really good day. Nicole and I snuck out for drinks at lunch, and my column today was really popular. I got lots of letters applauding my response. Good. I hope that rich Daddy Warbucks who sends his assistant to do his dirty work knows that he’s been vilified in the court of public opinion.
So yeah, nothing can disturb my good mood. The sun is shining and it’s finally warm. Best of all, I get to leave work early because Rhonda is at a conference.
Heading towards the subway, I turn my face to catch some rays. Today has been the first really warm day of spring and the sunshine feels good on my pale skin. The AC was on in the office all day, and they often turn it full blast so that it’s like being at the North Pole. As a result, it’s nice to get out. In fact, it's balmy enough for me to remove my cardigan and wish I hadn’t worn stockings.
To celebrate, I buy myself a taco from a street cart. Perfect, especially since they have the extra spicy salsa today. But then as I take a bite, I remember my doctor’s appointment from yesterday. Ugh. My primary care physician gave me a long talk about my weight, saying I need to drop at least twenty pounds for health reasons. Blegh.
Sighing, I glimpse at my reflection in a nearby window. I’m a big girl, it’s true, and nothing’s going to change that, not even losing twenty pounds. I have a large booty, the kind that previous boyfriends adored and hated at once, meaning that they loved to grab it in private, but hated to see it in public. But pooh on them because I love my ass; it’s probably my favorite feature. I wear tight skirts and jeans pretty often, but the problem with tight skirts and jeans is they also accentuate my least favorite body part – my big, round belly. It’s always full and popping out, even if I haven’t eaten in hours. I generally try to shift attention upwards to my breasts which, if I don’t say so myself, are amazing.
I have round, perky Double Ds, and like my bottom, I like to show them off with scoop necks and dangly necklaces. My legs are long and shapely, and when I wear heels, they make my ass look like a perfect peach.
For the most part, my generous curves make me feel powerful and sensual. Why not? Stick thin scarecrows aren’t attractive in my book, and I’ve never understood why the male population is drawn to that look. But I guess a little exercise wouldn’t kill me either.
Damnit. I shake my head and finish the taco, relishing the tangy pineapple and the rich, crackling pork. I vow to walk home instead of taking the subway. When’s the last time I strolled over the Brooklyn Bridge, anyway? Besides, I love to walk. It’s preferable to going to the gym for sure, where I feel like a hamster in a wheel going nowhere.
It’s such a vibrant afternoon. The buildings glimmer in the sunlight and all around me people are laughing and enjoying the promise of coming summer. I close my eyes and inhale, breathing it all in.
When I open my eyes, I’m startled because I catch sight of a huge man in a suit barreling down 34th Street, probably late for a meeting. He’s gorgeous for sure, even if he looks like he could tear apart a small animal with his bare hands right now. Dark hair flies in the wind, and those blue eyes are so intense they could sear a steak with that fire.