chapter 1

'Ooof,' he sighed, as he sat down beside her.

Their two-seater couch was getting snug, and so her body slid into his.

'Evening,' he said, as their bodies touched.

'Evening,' she said, looking up.

'My compliments to the chef.'

He patted his belly.

'I couldn't eat enough.'

'I noticed,' she said, staring at his gut.

'Didn't think I'd finish it, did you?'

She sensed the triumph in his voice. That ego had been his downfall.

'I allowed for that.' She smiled a little guiltily. 'Couldn't you tell?'

'So I think the joke's on you.' She placed a hand on his belly.

He peered at her. 'You're such a tease,' he said, playfully.

'I know.' She smiled and prodded his belly. 'But so are you.'

'For putting on all this weight.'

He stifled a belch and massaged his gut.

'Eighty pounds so far.'

He looked at her and smiled.

'I never thought I'd get this big.'

With little warning, his belly rumbled again, and he let slip another belch.

'Pardon me!' He put a hand to his mouth.

'Lasagna a little rich?' she asked, smiling knowingly.

Eaten in such quantities, she wasn't surprised.

'What was in it tonight?' He looked at her.

She kissed him on the cheek.

'Perhaps it's better you didn't know.'

She gave him a wink. She could think of a million little fattening reasons as to why he had grown so big.

'I see,' he said, as he lifted his shirt. 'Well in that case, I think you owe me a belly rub.'

He looked across at her expectantly. It was cute the way he never learnt.

'Oh,' she said. 'It'll get its rub alright, don't you worry.'

She bit on her bottom lip and smiled mischievously.

'When it's eaten enough.'

He rolled his eyes and put his shirt back down.

Hard-ball. She knew how to play. And play it well. He was blaming the last twenty or so on her.

'Well, when's enough, enough then?' He raised an eyebrow, and treading lightly given past experience.

'Never,' was the word flashed in her mind, but rather than the truth, she leant forward kissed his belly through his shirt.

'You've got bigger again,' she said.

His cheeks blushed.

'It's the snacks at work.'

'That you couldn't resist?' She smiled at him.

'You know I can't.'

He lifted his gut with both hands and let it drop. She wished he wouldn't. It was like a spark to a tinderbox.

'All the snacking is adding up,' he said.

Her tinder caught light. She couldn't help but kiss him as she heard that.

She ran her hand up his thigh and placed her mouth by his ear.

'You keep it up and your new pants are toast.'

He writhed a little to her words. Licking his hungry lips as he heard the word 'toast'.

'A few more pounds I reckon,' she continued.

'And they're totally done.'

'Bye bye fifty, hello fifty four.'

She could tell her words were working him up. Smiling, she seized the moment.

'If you can't stop snacking at work, then I'm sure you can't say no to a little dessert?'

She got up and straddled his lap, then loosened a button or two on her blouse; a sneak preview of what was to come.

'Still hungry?' she asked, re-buttoning her blouse.

She could feel him stir beneath.

'What do you think?' he asked.

She smiled.

'You better be, if you want this belly rubbed.'

She placed both her hands on it.

'Dessert it is,' he announced, as she leant in for a kiss.

'Desserts,' she whispered softly, correcting him with the plural, as their lips came apart.

'Remember.' He stifled another belch. 'Less can be more sometimes.'

'Not in this house,' she said, with a sly grin.

'Bet you regret eating all that lasagna now.'

She prodded his belly, with a smirk on her lips, before she got up and made her way for the kitchen.

'Not when I have you so well trained,' he quipped behind her back.

'Waiting on me hand and foot like this.'

She froze. Then turned to face him. With a smile like butter wouldn't melt, her eyes took him him in from head to toe.

'Well trained,' she said. 'Perhaps.'

'But I think the question you really should ask,'

'Is why your 8XL doesn't fit? ...'

She motioned with her eyes to his shirt.

He looked down. His buttons were straining to hold him back, a few more bites and they might pop.

He felt the colour rush to his cheeks.

'Why you cheeky little! ... ' he spluttered, as he struggled to get up from the couch to give chase. He knew that lasagna tasted a little rich.

She turned and ran for the kitchen, but he was slower to make the catch every night.

By the time he'd get there, she would have the kitchen table full of desserts.

And she'd show him precisely ...

... Who was well trained then.

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