Chapter 2 - "i really shouldn't."

"Well, what do you want?" she asks, her eyes again meeting mine.

"What do you suggest?" I ask.

"How about some Boston Creams?" she says, pointing toward the display counter.

"Um, sure, but um, just one," I say. I look down to notice that my shirt has ridden up on my belly, and some of my newly-acquired flab is showing. I quickly pull my shirt down to cover it, then look up to see her blue eyes peering at my middle section once again.

"I'm trying to watch my weight a little," I say in a whiney tone.

"I can see you're watching your weight," she says, sounding almost innocent. Then she chuckles and adds, "Looks like you're watching it go up and up and up, aren't you?"

I feel myself blush. I am silenced by her words. I start to get upset, but she quickly adds, "Oh, don't take offense, mister. I was just kidding. Besides, I like a man with some meat on his bones. Actually, a lot of meat on his bones. You're still pretty thin. You just have a little bump of a belly. It's barely noticeable."

I don't know what to say. Why would this cute baker tell me that she likes fat guys? I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out.

"Okay," she says. "One Boston Cream and one coffee?" I nod.

I watch her turn, noticing the sway of her hips, how they flare out from her thin waistline. Her legs are firm and shapely. I sit back and think about what she said about men with "meat on their bones." And I once again inhale deeply, taking in the aroma of the fresh baked goods and coffee brewing.

I look down at myself, trying to imagine why she would say I was thin at all. I've gained about 25 pounds since coming to this town. I've been lonely, and my new job is pretty sedentary, so I've been eating a lot more than I ever have.

Also, I have yet to join a gym. I think about that as Rose returns with my coffee and Boston Cream.

"I'm new in town," I say. "Do you know of any gyms around here that I could join? Nothing too fancy or expensive."

Rose smiles sympathetically at me and sits down in the booth seat across from me. "Mister, like I told you, you don't need to worry any. You're not fat or anything. Sorry if I made you feel bad." Her voice is filled with real concern.

"You don't need to call me Mister. My name's Joe." I reach out to shake her hand, feeling how tough it feels, a regular baker's hand, hard and strong from kneading and pulling dough.

Just then, my belly rumbles loud enough that Rose can hear it. I see a smile forming on the corners of her lips. I decide to make a joke.

"Excuse me -- and my belly, haha. Guess you got here just in time with the Boston Cream." I pick it up, measuring its heft and size.

"Joe, if you are going to become a regular customer here, you've got to realize something right now . . ."

As she says these words, I stick the Boston Cream in my mouth. I feel myself nearly swoon from the delicious taste. My eyes involuntarily close with delight. Lights swirl inside my eyelids, and ecstasy fills my soul.

"Do you like it?" Rose asks in a voice that already knows the answer.

"Oh my god, it's the best thing I've ever put in my mouth." I slowly open my eyes and look at Rose, and I shudder with pleasure. She appears more gorgeous than ever, and the entire shop seems to have a glow to it. I take another bite and moan deeply.

"What you need to realize, Joe, is that no one orders just one of my Boston Creams." She chuckles at my moans of pleasure. She licks her lips and repeats, "No one."

"I can see why. They are heavenly. I doubt I can stop at just one."

"Very few men can. I'll get you another." She stands up.

"Oh, it would be so tempting. I really shouldn't."

"You really shouldn't? Why not?" Rose asks as she moves to the display counter, returning with a box of a dozen Boston Creams. I feel my eyes widen. "I think you should. Why shouldn't you?"

"Because of this," I say, lifting my shirt to expose my potbelly and love handles on my otherwise slender and still somewhat-muscular body. "It's kind of embarrassing."

"I think it's kind of sexy, but it needs to grow some more," she says. She leans over and grabs my belly in both hands and massages my flab like she's kneading bread dough. Her face flushes a little, and now she moans with pleasure.

"Sexy? More?" I sound really stupid now, and the words spill out without thought. "Needs to grow some more? How much more?"

"More? Haha. I mean a lot more. You've barely started, handsome man."

I don't know what to say. She releases my belly then, still smiling that big toothy smile at me.

She walks over and turns off the "Open 24 hrs" sign and the other electric window signs. As she does so, I eat another Boston Cream. She closes the shades on the big windows and turns down the lights. She looks right at me -- her eyes glinting wickedly -- and saunters slowly toward me as I start to eat a third pastry.

"Here, let me," she says, sitting in the booth beside me now. She takes the Boston Cream from me as her other hand returns to my belly and begins to unbutton my pants.

"I really shouldn't," I say weakly.

"No, you really should," she says, her one hand kneading my soft underbelly as I take bite after bite of sweetness from her other hand. "You really should."

The END?

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An old story I had posted on here when I had my last account here. Enjoy.