Chapter 1 - Our first date

Lola. Unlikely to be her real name, but that's not unexpected for this scene. Based on her photos, an early-20s blonde bombshell. Based on her messages, a flirty one at that, who was not afraid to try something new.

I saw her enter across the restaurant. She did not seem to notice that she was turning every head she passed. Most were admiring her gorgeous hair, her glowing skin, her perfectly glossed lips, the soft cleavage exposed by the slightly-too-risque neckline of her dress. Meanwhile, I noticed the only things that could be construed as imperfections. Her dress was straining a bit, just under her breasts, indicating that the waist was a touch tighter than the designer intended. The flowy skirt, though terribly flattering in the traditional sense, also betrayed an ever-so-slight curve to her belly when it clung to her as she walked. She was still a stunning hourglass who was well within the bounds of conventional attractiveness, but I was pleased to see these little symptoms as it meant I may have guessed right about her potential.

She approached the table, and seemed a touch surprised at my appearance. I suppose tall, early-forties, well-groomed men were not the usual client for this type of dating.

"Leon, I assume?"

I kissed her delicately-extended manicured hand.

"Pleasure to meet you, Lola."

We sat and made idle chit-chat as we browsed the menu. Somewhat disappointing, these expensive places, at least for my goals. A lot of very small dishes, and many of them far too light for my tastes.

Champagne arrived shortly after she sat down.

"Bold of you to assume I drink." She raised a playful eyebrow.

"You claimed you were adventurous. If you're balking at champagne you may be in over your head."

She laughed and accepted the glass.

"What are you thinking?" I asked, motioning at the menu.

Looking slightly anxious, as if she'd gotten this question wrong before, she started, "Well, I'm thinking just some olives to start, and then the roasted cauliflower salad."

I waved a hand, "Nonsense. Have you ever been to this place before?"

She shook her head.

"Here, let me order for you. You need to get the most out of this menu. Start with the laminated bread with infused butter, then go for the buffalo mozzarella as a starter, the brown-butter-basted monkfish as a main with both deep-fried and mashed potatoes as sides. Then we'll see from there."

Her eyebrows crept slowly up her forehead as a I rattled off my (in my opinion, very restrained) list.

"I'm not sure I could eat all that..." she said, her smile torn between teasing and disbelieving.

I stared back silently.

"You know, a lot of men would find it rather... disgusting... for a girl to eat like that on a date."

"Am I a lot of men?"

She held her hands up in defeat.

"Trust me," I said, lowering my voice a touch, "it is the opposite of disgusting to see a girl indulging herself."

She looked slightly nervous, but if I was not mistaken, slightly excited at the same time.

The waiter took our orders and the evening began in earnest.

I neglected to mention that the bread was meant to be a portion for sharing, and watched her enthusiastically dig in on her own.

We maintained pleasant conversation - I told her about my business, she told me about her budding modelling career. We discussed vacation plans, hobbies, and your other standard mundane pleasantries.

Throughout the meal, I could see the waist of her dress grow tighter little by little, with the slight curve of her belly growing more accentuated as she breezed through our courses. I was pleased to see her finish the last of her sides without slowing at all.

I used that opportunity to get the dessert menu and a second bottle of champagne.

"Dessert, after all that? Are you kidding?"

The teasing tone was back.

"Let's stop pretending you're even close to full."

I kept my tone cold, demanding. I wanted to see how she would react if I tried to more overtly take charge.

Her eyes betrayed slight nervousness, but also undeniable excitement.

I turned to order, "We'll have Le Grande Chocolat Liegeois."

The waiter paused slightly, "Sir, only to warn you, that is an exceptionally large portion. We usually recommend it for sharing between three or four, for families and such."

I smiled. "We can handle it."

I pretended to help her with it at first, taking a small bite here and there, but soon gave up the charade as I saw her rising to the challenge.

It was impressive to see the blonde pack away spoonful after spoonful of chocolate and cream. Conversation died down as she focused on the task ahead, and all I could hear was her eating and her slightly shallow breathing as her lungs and stomach were beginning to battle for space in her dress.

She triumphantly finished the sundae and washed it down with the rest of the champagne. I reached over and wiped a drop of cream off the corner of her lips. "Well done."

She looked slightly dazed, "I may have slightly overdone that."

She rested her hand on her now obviously bloated stomach, and I could feel myself growing hard at the gesture.

"Should we get out of here? We can walk it off by the river, it's a lovely evening."

She smiled and accepted. I settled the bill and we began our stroll outside.

My hand found hers, and when we reached a quieter part of the sidewalk I swung her around and caught her in a kiss. I pulled away after a few seconds, and looked at her for permission to continue. Important moment - even when taking charge you had to be conscious of boundaries, and I was hoping for a green light.

That green light came swiftly as she pulled me back in by my tie and pressed herself close. Feeling the effects of champagne myself, my hands crept down her back and past several more boundaries as I squeezed her ass. It was well-shaped and clearly had a firm base, but a generous layer of fat coated each cheek and felt soft in my hands.

I could hear her moan slightly and continued to kiss her as I moved one of my hands to her front, feeling up one of her ample breasts. I could feel even through the fabric of the dress that she was slightly spilling out of her bra, and I could feel my trousers start to strain in response. Starting to feel a bit more bold, I moved my hand down to her belly - a dangerous move if she doesn't share my proclivities.

She broke the kiss, but did not pull away from my hand, a strange expression on her face. "I'm so bloated, you can't possibly be turned on by that." It was phrased as a question.

"Oh yeah? I am. I think you are too."

"Freak." Her tone was teasing, not malicious.

"Takes one to know one." I returned her tone, and started rubbing my belly. I was surprised to find it still had some give to it.

"You're holding out on me," I accused.

"You're mental. I'm packed to the gills."

"Stop teasing. I know there's a part of you that wants to keep going until you can barely move."

Lust. Undeniable in her eyes.

The ways that I could act on that lust if it were just me and her... Yet, I knew it was poor form to try and invite her home on a first date. Instead, I found myself walking her to the nearest McDonalds, a dramatic fall from grace from the upscale French place.

We each ordered a supersize milkshake. Both were for her.

We sat in one of the booths at the back, me sitting next to her rather than opposite. I sat in silence as she drank, my hand gently rubbing her belly which was quickly growing noticeably tighter. Finishing her first milkshake, she was starting to noticeably struggle.

"Leo, I'm so full, I feel like I'm about to explode."

"Shhh." I cupped the bottom of her belly gently, comfortingly.

While she could not quite be considered chubby yet, that layer of fat that dreamed of being a pot belly was as bloated as I suspect it had ever been. Even as her gut overall was growing taut, I found it obscenely hot that I was still holding a handful of distinctly softer flesh at the bottom.

She struggled through the rest of the milkshake and put down an empty cup. I slid the other in front of her.

"Leo..." She looked at me pleadingly.

"Let me make this a bit more compelling for you."

Slowly, I trailed my hand down below her belly and slid it under her skirt. She blinked slowly with a little smile and picked up the milkshake, her already shallow breath catching more as my hand found its way under her thong.

She was already soaking wet.

"Never try and pretend again that this isn't a turn-on for you as well." I growled, lubricating my fingers with her moisture and rubbing slow circles around her clit. "Now drink, Lola."

She obeyed, somehow chugging down this milkshake faster than the last, her sips accelerating as my fingers steadily pulsed between her legs. She was letting out whiny little moans, and was breathing like she had just run a race by the time she pulled away from the empty second shake.

I moved my hand back to her belly. Her stomach was tight as a balloon. I was impressed that she had finished. We sat there for a few minutes as she caught her breath, and she walked slightly awkwardly when we finally headed for the door.

"Put your hands on your belly." I asked her, as we stood waiting for my driver to come pick us up.

"Like this?" She asked, cradling her tender gut.

I smirked. "You look 6 months pregnant."

"6?! 4 at most." She pretended to take offence.

"We keep doing this, and I'll make it 9. And then I'll make it so that no one would mistake your wobbly fat gut for pregnancy at all."

Perhaps sensibly, Jacques arrived with the car right after that bold assertion, and we shared most of the ride in silence.

By the time we said goodbye, Lola seemed to have returned to reality. "I live off my looks you know. Seeing you too often may be dangerous."

"There's ways around that." I tried to keep my tone reassuring but vague. My girls were always taken care of, and though it was a bit soon to discuss arrangements I knew I could ensure she could indulge her fantasies without a care.

"We'll see. I did have fun with you tonight."

"I enjoyed your company as well, Lola. Let's do this again soon."