Chapter 1

So many suits. I always think that when I walk into one of these overly air-conditioned hotel conference rooms, and today was no different. So many suits, all looking as bored as I felt, milling about until they find their names written on folded rectangles of card and then dutifully sit down in front of them. Some of these suits then engage in small talk, but me, well, it's not my first conference. I hang back, even once I've found my seat I move along, navigating the round tables until I make my way back to the entrance. And then I wait. I wait until the inevitable request of "would everyone please take their seats?" rings out over the hired PA and then I pounce, settling into my chair just before the introduction begins; and I didn't have to shake a single hand nor smile a single false smile. I'm not antisocial or anything, not really, but sales folk are an interesting type, and even though I am one, I can't stand being around others for too long.

I took my seat just as the PA announced it was time to do so, waving briefly at the other four suits who had already taken their seats at my table. Thankfully, we were placed very close to the exit, which I always preferred, because who wouldn't prefer that? I glanced around, rolling my shoulders, feeling my shirt pinch against my chest slightly, and prepared myself for a couple of hours of boredom. To my right remained a vacant chair and idle curiosity directed my eyes to the name placed on the table before it. Patricia Harrison. Well, Trish, I thought to myself, I might not be a networking animal like the rest of them in this hall, but at least I was on time.

As the speakers began speaking and the droners began droning, I found myself drifting off. More entertaining thoughts filled my mind until the double doors to the right of the stage were suddenly but silently pushed open and the largest woman I'd ever seen (in real life) shuffled as quietly as she could into the room. Despite her best efforts, her flat-shoed footfalls sent small tremors through the carpeted floor as she approached, looking somewhat embarrassed at her own lateness. I couldn't have pried my eyes away from her for a million pounds at that moment, and that was perhaps why I noticed her name tag pinned atop one huge breast. Patricia Harrison. Without even realising what I was doing, I raised a hand, catching her gaze, and pointed to the empty chair next to me. Patricia's grateful smile was so beautiful that I felt a knot tie itself within the pit of my stomach. Stay calm, I told myself, stay calm.

"Thanks," Patricia whispered breathily as she placed her handbag on the table by her spot.

She didn't sit down immediately though, instead she took a step away, a thoughtful expression on her face as her sparkling, green eyes scanned the room. Despite myself, I leant forward.

"Hey," I hissed. "Hey. What are you looking for?"

She glanced down at me distractedly and I could see that her lightly freckled cheeks were blushing a cute pink.

"I just need a chair," she answered quietly. "Aha!"

I frowned, not understanding. "But there's a chair for you right here."

She looked at me again, her face suddenly stern. Whatever she saw on mine, however, made her relax slightly.

"I think," she said, smoothing down the sides of the presumably custom-made light grey jacket she was wearing, "that I might require a second."

I looked from her to the chair and back again, feeling like an idiot. Hastily, too hastily so that more than a few heads turned our way, I leapt out of my chair and pushed it next to hers.

"You take this one," I said, " I'll go get a spare."

Her smile of relief was priceless.

"Oh, thank you. So kind of you!" She whispered.

I scanned the room for the stacked chairs and realised how difficult Patricia would have found getting across to them. I myself had only a little trouble, slipping between the tightly packed tables, forcing people to retract outstretched legs momentarily. When I returned, I put my new chair next to Patricia’s two, and, making sure to catch her eye, I smiled at her. She smiled back and then turned her attention to the speaker on stage.

I didn’t.

I couldn’t.

I pretended to, because staring at the woman beside me filling two chairs so spectacularly that creaked every time she adjusted her bulk might have been inappropriate, or creepy even, but there was no way I could focus on anything but her. From the corner of my eye, I studied her as best as I could. She had divested herself of the jacket, which now hung over the back of one of her chairs, and her very lightly striped white shirt was short-sleeved and, by my reckoning, was having a hard time containing all of Patricia. It wasn’t just the colossal stomach filling her lap, nor the bounteous bosom heaving atop it, but a thick swathe of flesh spilled out sideways over the waistband of her matching suit-trousers, straining the fabric of the shirt. Her shoulders were almost impossibly wide and round, a substantial roll of flesh, one on each side, rested upon the top of their respective chairs. I had judged her to be slightly shorter than myself when first she’d entered the room, but the sheer mass of her vast bottom seemed to elevate her as she sat, so that she seemed to tower over me.

“Sorry,” she suddenly whispered, startling me. Had I been too obvious? “Do you have a spare pen, mine seems to have run dry?”

My mouth dry and my heart racing, I could do nothing but nod as Patricia shook the biro in her plump, manicured hand, her rotund overarm quivering as she tried, in vain, to produce a trail of ink on the notepad she was clutching to her expansive chest. I leant forward and quickly fished a pen from my rucksack, noting how my fingers were trembling. I steadied myself with three deep breaths before turning back to Patricia.

“Here,” I said.

Our fingers brushed as she took the pen and I looked sharply away.

“Thanks!” Patricia said, resettling herself with the new pen, seeming not to notice my discomfort.

The next hour passed both slowly and quickly as I tried to distract myself from the cascade of full, medium brown hair tumbling down Patricia’s broad back, or the way she often shifted her feet, causing the fabric of her trousers to outline more of her gigantic thighs in new, fleeting ways.

“Right then, let’s get to it,” the current speaker said finally. “Your tables are your groups, so get yourselves acquainted, and enjoy the icebreaker sessions we have prepared. And remember, the aim of this conference is teamwork, so we hope that by the end of this week, we’ll all be much better at working together.”

A round of applause followed this statement and within minutes, the general hum of chatter had taken over.

“I’m Tricia,” the enormous woman said, turning as best she could to offer me her hand.

I took it, and tried not to reveal just how much I enjoyed the sensation of its soft warmness.

“Dave,” I managed, following the single uttered syllable with a weak smile. I hoped she couldn’t feel how much my hand was trembling.

“Well, Dave,” she said smiling, “thanks again for the chair. And the pen. Very kind of you.”

I swallowed, but was saved from answering by the interruption of the four others sat at our table.

“Hi there,” a man in a navy-blue suit said. His hair was slicked back and a golden watch sparkled at his wrist. “The name’s Stefan. And you are?”

I stood up and shook his hand. “I’m Dave,” I answered. “And this is Tricia,” I added.

“Oh, you two already know each other, do you?” Stefan asked.

“No,” Patricia answered affably, “we just met. But he’s not wrong, I am Tricia.”

“Alright, well, nice to meet you,” Stefan said, though I noticed he did not offer to shake Tricia’s hand.

The other three introduced each other as Kyle, Jonas and Beth, and for a brief period we engaged in small talk. I’m not a fan of small talk, so I was relieved when a tall man wearing a yellow t-shirt approached and told us we were to follow him to our break-out room. Instinctively, I held out a hand to Tricia, some part of me assuming she would need assistance to get up.

“I’m fine, thanks, Dave,” she said in a strange tone, waving my hand away.

Perhaps I shouldn’t have lingered, but it wasn’t until after I’d witnessed Tricia’s triple rocking motion before she levered herself to her feet, and the expulsion of pent breath that immediately followed, that I realised I had been staring. A faint sheen of sweat now covered her brow and I averted my gaze just before she turned to regard me.

“Did you see where they went?” She asked, sounding a little winded.

“Um, yes,” I stammered, “let’s go.”

I led the way, glancing over my shoulder every now and then to see Tricia’s heavy swaying behind me. The way her thighs bunched into each other with every step, briefly shifting some of the mass of her hanging stomach, the bottom half of which was tucked into her suit pants, was difficult to take my eyes from. It was not surprising, then, that she caught me staring.

“I’ll be fine, Dave,” she said, mistaking my interest for either worry or pity. “It just takes me a bit longer to get from A to B.”

“No rush,” I answered, noncommittally.

When we entered the smaller room, the other four were already there, along with the bloke in the yellow t-shirt.

“Ah, there you are,” he said, clapping his hands together. “I was worried you’d got lost. Now, my name is Alan, and I’m going to help you all through a few icebreakers, so that we can get this team up and running.”

Inwardly I groaned. Next to me, Tricia’s slightly heavier breathing was distracting.

“So, first things first, I want us to go around the circle, that’s right, let’s form a circle here in the middle, and introduce ourselves and say one thing we like doing. I’ll go first.” He put a hand on his chest. “I am Alan, and I’m forty-eight years old. In my spare time, I go to children’s hospices, most often dressed up as a clown, but always with the aim of entertaining the patients.” A small round of applause followed this statement. “Now, you go,” Alan said, pointing to Beth.

“Oh, um, hi. I’m Beth. I’m twenty-three, and I like most water sports, especially wind and kite surfing.”

And so on around the circle we went. Kyle rides motorbikes and Stefan likes football while Jonas was a part-time carpenter.

“I guess it’s my turn, then. I’m Dave, just turned thirty, and I play piano.”

“Great stuff, welcome Dave,” Alan said, beaming at me in a way I’d rather he hadn’t. “And last but by no means least…” he said, extending his hand toward Tricia.

“Hi, I’m Tricia,” she said dutifully, “I’m twenty-seven, and, as big a surprise as this may come to you all, I’m a big old foodie. I love eating out at restaurants and trying new places.”

“Alright, great!” Alan said, bringing his hands together in another clap. “Now, what I want to-“

“Excuse me,” Tricia said, holding up one hand. “Could I just grab a chair?”

“Or two,” I heard Stefan whisper to Kyle, who struggled to conceal a laugh. If Tricia had heard, she didn’t give any sign of it.

“Well, we don’t have any in these rooms,” Alan said.

“I’ll go and grab one from the main room,” I offered immediately.

“Sure,” Alan answered.

“Dave?” Tricia’s voice caught me just as I was heading out of the door. I turned and could see she was, as subtly as possible, holding up two fingers. I smiled and nodded.