Read Curvy Girls Need Love (BBW Romance, Rock Star Romance) for Free Online

who you think I am, but I’m not that kind of girl.”
    He had the good sense to look penitent. “I’m sorry,”
he said. “Let’s just say the girls on the road have set unrealistic
expectations when it comes to real women like you.”
    “Apology accepted,” I said as I wondered what he
meant by real women like me. I didn’t know whether he meant girls who were
bigger than size zero, women who had never heard of him or some combination of
the two.
    He leaned back into the plush leather upholstery. The
faded denim covering his legs was as loose as a coat of paint. I couldn’t help
but notice that the fabric covering his crotch was under tremendous pressure.
With some difficulty, I raised my eyes to look at his face instead.
    My eyes may have been focused on his face, but my brain
was focused on what I had seen below the belt. To borrow a line from the movie This
Is Spinal Tap, Stone looked like he was packing an armadillo in his
trousers.
    “What’s your address?” Stone asked.
    “Why do you need my address?” I asked suspiciously.
    “I need your address so that my driver can bring you
home,” he said.
    When he laughed, I had the sinking feeling that he
knew exactly what had gotten me so distracted. Then he leaned back further,
sliding his legs down the leather seat and prominently displaying the growing
bulge in his pants. The armadillo had transformed into a mountain. It was quite
a feat.
    To my dismay, Stone dropped me off at my lonely
apartment without even offering to come inside and show me exactly what he had
to offer. I knew that I was being ridiculous. He was a stranger, and I was a
good girl who just happened to dance nearly naked for a living. I went to bed,
determined to forget that he existed. Unfortunately, fate had other plans.
     
    Nearly one month later, I was at work when I saw
Stone waltz through the crowd. He wasn’t alone. His entourage included several
impossibly large men whom I rightly assumed to be bodyguards. The rest of his
party was composed of young women in slutty clothes and several men whom I
recognized as members of the band. A month earlier, I wouldn’t have recognized
them. Thanks to an almost obsessive bout of searching for pictures of Stone on
the Internet, I knew his band mates like they were the back of my hand.
    From my vantage point on top of the main stage, I
could see Stone clearly. However, his perfect form was quickly obscured by the
body of a pale redhead who straddled him like she was giving him a lap dance. That
wasn’t a service that we provided in this particular establishment. She was
with the band.
    I continued with my performance. Ordinarily, I felt
almost completely confident as I danced onstage wearing nothing but a G-string
and tassels. Sneaking glances at Stone while he was being mauled by a girl who
couldn’t have weighed more than a hundred pounds was making me feel
significantly less confident.
    Finally, my set was over. I was free to go. With a
final glance over my shoulder, I headed offstage. As I turned my head, I saw Stone
waggle his fingers at me from around the girl’s body. I didn’t wave back.
    Back in the dressing room, I threw on my street
clothes faster than I ever had before. There was nothing I wanted more than to
exit stage right and disappear into the night. With the exception of the night
Stone had given me a ride home in a limousine that had definitely seen more
action than my bed, I always walked home. It was the perfect way to clear my
head.
    I suppose I should have known that I wasn’t going to
get away that easily. As I left the smokiness of the club for the relatively fresh
air of the parking lot, a familiar limousine was waiting. One of the windows
rolled down to reveal the very person whom I had hoped to avoid.
    “Stone,” I said. Brilliant , I thought to
myself.
    “Do you want a ride?”
    “That depends. Is your little redheaded friend
inside?”
    “No.” He grinned, revealing his perfectly straight
white teeth.