Chapter 6 - honesties

“Do you think I’ve gained a little weight since I moved here to New York?” Martin asked Jenny as they lay in bed. It was pretty much the first thing he had actually said to her properly; so energetic and erotic was the sex after three weeks apart from each other. He had practically burst in through the door and undressed both of them on the way into the bedroom.

“Yes, you have,” Jenny replied calmly, without a hint of sugar-coating; her head on Martin’s chest looking down at his midsection. She then reached down and gave his tummy a little pinch between her curious fingers.

“Seriously?” Martin replied, hoping that Jenny would tell him that she was only joking. “Is it like… is it really noticeable?”

“Well, I noticed it,” Jenny mumbled in confusion, sitting up to look Martin in the eye, seemingly surprised by his annoyance. “Five… ten pounds or something, maybe.”

“So my mother is right. I need to get back to the gym!” Martin sulked, bitterly.

“Why?” asked Jenny. “Why do you need to get to a gym?”

Martin shook his head. Sometimes the way Jenny’s mind worked confused him a little. “Apparently, I’m getting doughy,” he emphasised, grabbing a little fat from his stomach and surprising himself at how easy it was.

“So what?” Jenny retorted. “If you’re going to start hitting the gym for my benefit, don’t bother. I’ve been there,” she sighed in frustration. “I thought it would be so hot marrying a muscle jock like Vincent; turns out that it just makes you into a gym widow.” She sighed again and flopped back down onto Martin’s chest. Then her voice became calmer, more contented and relaxed. “I like that you’re a little more cuddly. You’re here with me in the evenings, enjoying your food like a regular guy and not obsessively counting your protein intake. I don’t feel lonely when I’m with you.”

A realisation came to Martin. He’d spent so long trying not to look at the pictures of Vincent all over the walls of this apartment: the massive biceps and bulging six-pack, making him feel incredibly inferior; he’d forgotten how much Jenny liked him for being completely different. He’d never been as obsessed with his looks, as Vincent was. And that, in Jenny’s eyes, was more than a good thing.