Alicia's Misfortune (22 page)

Courtney didn’t expect that Christian would actually use the
phone. He might have been able to immediately after she showed him how it
worked, but she had doubts that he would use it even if he did remember how.
She knew that while on some things, he was willing to think outside his
community, maybe the phone was not one of them.

She was pleasantly proven wrong.

Towards the end of the week, she was awakened by the ring
tone she had assigned to him.

“Hello?” she answered tenuously, curling up in her covers.
“Is that you?” she asked with a smile on her face.

“It is,” he said.

Courtney sat straight up in bed. “Oh my goodness,” she
remembered to say, having blurted out the other expression and caused a little
tension between them. “You have the best phone voice.”

He laughed. “Thank you. Will I see you at the market this
Saturday? I have a gift for you.” He was quiet for a moment and then amended
his statement. “I have two gifts for you.”

“A present from you? I am so there,” she replied, realizing
her voice had become ultra girlish just talking to him. “Christian,” she asked.

“Yes.” His voice was smoky.

“Are you eating?” she asked.

She remembered that he left before dawn and then returned to
fuel up right about the time most people were waking and drinking coffee.

“Yes,” he answered.

“So you’re in your house?” she asked excitedly.

“I am,” he said.

She stretched out, letting her body glide against the rich
coolness of her sheets. She realized it was a deep desire to spend a night in
her home, in her bed with this man.

“Christian.” Her voice warbled with arousal. It was breathy
and pained. “I love hearing from you. But now I am aching so badly.”

“Aching?” he asked.

‘I need you. I need you,” she repeated.

From the deep sigh that came across the phone, she knew he
needed her too.

Very quickly she started to rub herself. She was so
intensely excited to hear from him and filled with mischief of giving him his
first dirty phone call that she gave out a squeal of pleasure over the telephone.

“Are you pleasuring yourself?” he asked in a playful voice.

“Yes,” she admitted sheepishly. 

“Can you save it up till I see you on Saturday?” he
asked. 

“Maybe” she said. “I don’t know if I can wait.”

By: Naughty Nicole

The
BBW Stepmom Gets Double Teamed

© Naughty Nicole 2016 – All rights
reserved

Published by Steamy Reads4U

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any
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publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles
or reviews.

This is a work of fiction.
 
Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either
the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner.
 
Any resemblance to actual persons, living or
dead, or actual events are purely coincidental.
 
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Warning

This book contains graphic content intended for readers 18+
years old.

If you are under 18 years old, or are not comfortable with
adult content, please close this book now.

Lydia already saw the Alps and the Himalayas. She’d already
been to the Caribbean and South America. She’d been on a cruise to Antarctica
the year before, and every other continent in the world. She didn’t need
expensive vacations or fake thrills, all she needed to do was get dolled up and
head to the country club to satisfy her tastes.

She could sit on the terrace with a glass of wine and watch
the waves hit the shore. She didn’t have to take the private jet to do that, and
she didn’t want to. She was more of a homebody. She enjoyed simply things like
a good movie and some good food. She liked having quiet evenings with her
friends and just talking.

As the heiress to a billion dollar tourism empire, she had
expanded her horizons as far as they could be stretched. She put on a nice
dress and admired her curvy body in the white sequins with her long blond hair
and her Jessica Rabbit makeup. She was big, that was true, but she was
beautiful. She grabbed a white fur boa and headed out the door to meet her
driver outside the estate.

It wasn’t that she didn’t look good, it was that men didn’t
enjoy real women. They wanted stick figures who ate carrots all day instead of
good steaks. They preferred big fake titties to real womanly breasts. It was a
shame. She would’ve loved to have somebody to share everything she had with.
Her money was amazing, but at the end of the day, it was a lonely life.

The few men that did get with her, wanted her money, not her
body or her heart, and she never had one sincere romance in her entire life.
She was already 40, and had no idea where she was going to find somebody to
love.

The country club was her release. It was her simple night
out and she needed that. The driver set her in front of the curved driveway and
she stepped one leg out and then another. The night air warm and she felt good.
She had been lost in her thoughts all day, but tonight she was going to enjoy
herself.

She walked into the decadently decorated reception room
where a hosted smiled at her and noticed that there was a chalk board to the
right saying, “Chef Du Jour Presented by Legendary Chef Harold Tramping.” Lydia
had heard of Harold Tramping. His most recent restaurant.Ghol’s Terrace had
failed miserably when one of his cooks accidentally burned down the kitchen in
a grease fire on the north side. Before that, he had the Hobbit Hole in the
foothills, which was designed to look like a tiny Hobbit Hole. It did
spectacularly until the entire place caved in and almost killed several
patrons. Every one of his restaurants was faced with one disaster or another.
She wasn’t sure whether to stay and take her chances, or run. The last thing
she wanted this evening was to face the seven plagues or find a dead cockroach
in her food.

She thought about it, though, and realized she’d never
really heard about whether or not his food was any good. All she’d heard about
was the massive disasters in his kitchen, which were never food related. It was
quite possible that his food was really good. He was probably just kind of
clumsy or something.

The tiny brunette hostess was a size zero but somehow her
boobs looked perfect and were at least double d’s. Lydia wondered how much that
had cost her and whether or not she got better tips that way. The men in the
restaurant certainly looked her way.

She wasn’t what it was about good bodies. She liked people
based on their personalities, which seemed to be a rare trait in people. She
decided that it something to do with what they wanted. Nobody wanted substance,
they wanted a hole to fill, and that simply wasn’t any good. She couldn’t sit
next to a pretty face that had nothing to say, it would bore her to death. She
couldn’t imagine doing it for the rest of her life. Doing so would be
objectifying anyway. It would always be about a piece of meat and whether or
not it was formed properly.

The only meat that Lydia worried about was the meat on the
table, at least that evening. She had no idea what the chef had in store. Chef
Du Jour was when a new chef debuted their style by taking the menus off the
table and offered a simply choice of dishes based upon the entrees. The soups
and salads would always be the same, but the entree could be chosen based upon
whether or not a person wanted lamb, duck, chicken, beef or pork. They didn’t
usually have all of those choices, and they almost never used just the simple
beef, chicken or pork, but they always had some interesting things to offer.

Fine cuisine is like any art. When a person enjoys the
subject, then they do their best work. When a person is forced to do something
they don’t enjoy, then it isn’t any good, at least not when they’re choosing
what goes in it. Chef Du Jour was a chance for people to get to know a chef and
see what he was best at, as well as sample his finest cuisine.

Many of the people who belonged to the country club chose to
eat there instead cook every night so how well that night went decided whether
or not the chef stayed on staff. Lydia loved to cook, but she did come to the
country club quite often. She wondered what was in store for her. The entire
restaurant was full so she decided that it was likely to be an interesting
evening.

The hostess at her at her favorite table, which was right at
the edge of the terrace with a view over the cliff so she could watch the waves
crashing against the Pacific coast. The sun was setting and tiny glimmers of
orange and yellow light were shining off the water. The dining hall was dark
reds and burgundies with golden crown molding. Every table was lit with a
single candle in the center. She felt like she stood out with her white dress.
She liked to stand out. She didn’t think she was like everyone else, and she
wasn’t. She like substance instead of materialism. She would’ve killed for a
man across from her to talk to. Picking brains was a hobby of hers that she
would pursue every chance she got if she could.

The hostess brought her her glass of water and went to go
get the waitress to tell her the menu. She sat and looked out at the water. It
seemed like these days she’d just been waiting for something to happen, even
though it never really did. It was useless. She had just better find a hobby.

“Hello,” the waitress had bleach blond hair and orange skin,
but she had yet to undergo any apparent surgeries. She was young. “Tonight is
Chef Du Jour, we are showcasing dishes by our new head chef, Harold Tramping.”

“Yes. I saw.” She was getting a bit impatient. “What is he
offering?”

“Well, there’s a nice chicken marsala with portabello
mushrooms and a truffle risottos. Our soup for the evening is shrimp pho or a
Thom Yum which can be spicy or sweet. We also have a Lamb biriyana made with
couscous.” None of thsoesounded appetizing in the least. She hated all of the
spices put in pho, it was simply too much and she could stand sour soups. She
didn’t want it. Then there was the fact that he wasn’t offering a salad. She
didn’t want chicken marsala. It reminded her of diarrhea and the idea of eating
lamb biriyana with couscous instead of rice sounded terrible. What she did
want, instead, was a nice steak. She would have to request it. They always had
good filet mignon, and she was certain they had quite a few back there. They
could easily just throw her on the grill there, and they usually gave her what
she wanted because she paid and tipped well.

“Do you think, that if you told me them I was here, they
might give me just a simple filet mignon, couscous and baked potato? I’m
willing to pay more and wait.”

“Well, let me go ahead and ask and see what they say.” The
waitress went back to the kitchen and stood in the door, so she could ask them
about the steak. She just wanted to have a night out. She didn’t want to have
to go back and make herself something, and she didn’t want to have to go
somewhere else.

The waitress kept her head down and walked over to the
table. “The chef says that they won’t give you filet mignon.”

“What? I’ve been getting custom orders for years, and I’m
one of your best customers. Come tell him to speak with me personally.” The
waitress seemed skeptical, but as soon as she walked up to the kitchen and told
him he walked out. He was nice looking with blond hair and soft blue eyes. He
had a good body, but with a little bit of a belly which she liked.

He sat down at the other side of the table and said, “Listen,
I want to help you, but the restaurant is trying to up the ante. They only want
me to make these shitty exotic dishes.”

She scoffed. “That’s gonna keep a lot of these people from
coming here. Nobody wants that crap. Look,” she pointed to several tables where
people had already left and another where a woman in a roller set was arguing
with the waitress.

“I know. I told them. We’re going to switch back soon, but
they want me to keep things like that for now.”

“I just want a steak. Can’t you put one on the grill for me.
I mean, seriously, isn’t this about showcasing
your
style?”

“Tell you what,” he smiled at her and she began to blush.
“Why don’t you come to my house in about two hours and I’ll cook you the best
steak you’ve ever had.”

“Really?”

“I mean it.” His smile was getting wider and his eyes were
searching all over her body. “I never want to keep a beautiful woman from a
good meal.”

“Alright. Give me your address and your number. I’m gonna
head home and change and text you when I’m ready.”

“Great.” He shook his butt mockingly, just enough for her to
notice when she walked away. It was delicious. This was definitely going to be
a wonderful evening.