Chapter Two

Driving home from the Masterson's estate after the reception, Lila was introspective. The trees were a gray-green blur, and the stars floating above them, diamonds against black velvet. Diamonds and velvet. Lila's lips gave a wry twist. One day in a palace and you start seeing opulence everywhere.

The Masterson mansion wasn't quite a palace, but having grown up in a small post-war ranch house, there was no comparison. That level of wealth made Lila uncomfortable. Although she specialized in gourmet food, food for sophisticated palates (and wallets), cooking really wasn't connected to money in her mind. It was a vocation, sure, but primarily a passion.

She wanted to transcend the ordinary in one aspect of her life. Cooking took her out of herself, let her focus on creating something beautiful and ephemeral. And hopefully, out of that ephemeral beauty she would build something with permanence. Her gourmet food was allowing her to go places, and her focus had to be entirely on her career. She'd never have opulence in her own life, but it was there in her food, and that was enough.

The miles passed. Lila tried to force herself to consider the list of things she had to do before her move to Portland and the opening of her new business. Her mind wouldn't obey. Apparently it wanted to delve deep and ignore her admonishment to focus on career only. Seeing a picture book marriage begin before her eyes seemed to shine a light on what was missing in her own life. Sure, she was in love with her food, but it might be nice to have someone else to share it with.

No time for that. That's what she always told herself. Career first. Career only. While her forebrain detailed logical reasons to keep on track, the baser part, back near the spinal cord, whispered more compelling reasons to forget about love. Fear. Trust. Vulnerability.

Lila belonged to the fool me once, shame on everyone involved school of thought. One mistake was a mistake too many, and she'd already made hers. Maybe someday, after she'd built her business and had enough free time to dig into therapy, probably right after she joined a gym, she might meet someone and fall in love. But right now wasn't an option.

That didn't stop her brain from dredging up the memories and playing them like a bad after school special for her, a captive audience...

Lila hadn't had much to do the summer before her senior year in high school. Her mother worked long hours at a local bakery, leaving her alone most of the day. When she was younger, her mother would take her along to work, letting Lila help as she made cakes and torts and cookies and all manner of confections. But Old Man Withers, the bakery's owner, had told her mother when Lila turned 16 that he couldn't afford to pay another worker, and Lila couldn't exactly be considered a volunteer. So she'd been left at home for the last two summers, to fill the hours on her own.

That summer was no different. Well, maybe it was hotter. Although most of the year was filled with gloomy skies and rain in the western wilds of Oregon, the summer months were dry and warm. That year summer had started early, and temperatures had climbed to near 100 degrees for the last couple weeks. Which meant Lila spent most of her days in front of the fan in their cluttered living room, watching the cooking shows that popped up on the public television channels and wishing for a relief from the heat.

That afternoon had to be the hottest yet. Lila could feel beads of sweat rolling down between her breasts. She'd foregone putting on a bra as the heat made confining her overlarge chest uncomfortable. Instead she wore an old tank top and a pair of cotton shorts, her long black hair pulled up into a bun behind her head. Another trickle of sweat down her back made her groan and plop onto her stomach, lying directly in front of the fan in the hopes of cooling down, if just for a moment.

A knock at the door had her jumping up. There'd been no visitors in days, weeks probably, maybe a month. The last ones, a pair of proselytizing Jehovah's Witnesses, had not made it past the screen door. Another knock, and she knew she didn't have time to strap on a bra before answering. Lila folded her arms across her chest, thinking that the visitor would be sent away before they noticed her braless state.

She pulled open the heavy wooden door and stood before the unopened screen. Her breath caught in her throat when she realized who stood on the other side.

He was tall, his naked chest bronzed from the sun, dark blond hair streaked with almost white highlights. Damien George, her neighbor from up the hill. He was in her class at high school, though he'd never acknowledged her in the halls. Now he stood at the door, waiting for her to open it.

Lila prayed that he didn't notice her flushed skin and cursed herself for not wearing a bra today. As if she'd known the cutest boy in school would be dropping by. She just stood there, unable to say anything, looking at him with wide, confused eyes.

"Hey," he said when he realized she wasn't going to open the screen door. "I'm here to pick up the box for the church sale. My mom talked to your mom, and supposedly there's a box of her old stuff she's willing to donate."

Lila nodded but didn't move. She vaguely remembered her mother mentioning something last night about a box and a church sale, but she'd been busy reading a cookbook and learning how to make the perfect crème brulee and hadn't paid her mom any attention. Regret filled her mouth with saliva and she swallowed it back, pushing the screen door open to let the high school hunk in.

"Thanks." His voice was deep, almost a grown man's. His body wasn't far from grown either. Although they'd known each other for years, it wasn't until he'd shot up six inches last summer that Lila realized she had a crush on him, a painful, lusty crush that made her pulse speed up as she watched him walk down the hall, her eyes zooming in on his butt in his tight denim shorts.

"Is it back here?" he asked, motioning down the hallway.

"Umm...yeah," she said, at last finding her voice. "It's in my mom's room." She pointed to the last door on the left and walked behind him as he entered the bedroom.

The room was small, like most of the house, and full of her mom's nick knacks. She cringed inside, hoping he'd ignore the Precious Moments figurines and sand candles. Lila walked past Damien, desperately attempting to keep her breasts covered in a non-obvious fashion. "I think it's in the closet."

She pulled open the sliding door and bent down, digging through the pile of shoe boxes and garbage bags of sweaters that had been abandoned down there. Finding a box labeled "church sale," she tugged it toward the front. It was heavy so she didn't lift it, just pulled it forward until it breached the closet mess.

"Let me get it," Damien said, bending down and picking up the box as if it were full of cotton balls instead of a pile of her mom's old clothing. Don't think about how hot that is! She suddenly wished she'd spent more time outside this summer. Her skin was pale, and a bright was flush was currently working its way up her arms. She knew her face must look like a stop sign.

Lila led the way back down the hallway and toward the front door. She had the strange sensation of his eyes on her and quickened her pace, telling herself as she did so that she was being ridiculous. Cute boys like Damien weren't interested in eying chubby girls like her.

They reached the door and Lila put her hand on the handle but didn't open it when she realized Damien had stopped and put the box down. She turned, confusion causing her to cock an eyebrow at him.

"It's hot," he said, his pitch low. "Could I get a glass of water?"

"Sure," Lila replied, hoping he didn't notice the nervous tremble in her voice. She headed toward the kitchen and felt him close behind her. She reached up to the cabinet to pull out a glass and cursed herself as she felt her unbound breasts shifting as she reached. She filled the glass with cold water from the faucet and handed it to him.

"Thanks." Damien put the glass to his lips and Lila tried not to think of how it would feel to have his well-formed mouth on hers. A new kind of heat pulsed through her, filling her with shivers that had nothing to do with the temperature.

He drained the glass and put it down on the counter, then turned to face her. His eyes traveled down her front, and Lila quickly crossed her arms over her chest, then groaned inwardly as she saw his gaze fasten on her breasts. Which were now pushed up slightly over her crossed arms. Crap. Smooth move, Ex-Lax.

Then she thought she caught a hungry look in his eyes.

Are you out of your mind? Damien dated cheerleaders, not overweight nobodies with plain features and few friends. He was just thirsty and hot, not hot for her.

Damien moved closer and she craned her neck, looking up at him, and knew her unease had to be apparent. She moved away until she felt the counter at her back and could go no farther. Expecting him to head away from her and back to the front door, she was surprised when he instead moved closer. He put his arms on either side of her body, effectively blocking her in and keeping her stationary.

Lila's heart was beating like she was prey being chased by a jungle cat. His eyes burned into hers and she blushed, wondering what he wanted from her. Her nerves couldn't stand the silence, so she spoke to break the tension. "Thanks for...uh...picking up that stuff."

Damien didn't answer but his eyes moved lower to her chest. She noticed the tops of her breasts were peeking over the neckline of her shirt, but she wouldn't lower her arms, even though she was sure he'd realized she wasn't wearing a bra. Her nipples hardened, and she could feel the tight points pressing into her arms. How embarrassing!

She felt his arms close in tighter until they were touching her hips. Her too-wide hips. What was happening? His hands grasped her hips, then smoothed their way up higher, until they were poised at her elbows.

Damien didn't say anything, just brought his eyes to hers. It was what she thought Mrs. Harman, her English teacher, would call a 'speaking glance.' But Lila couldn't believe what it was saying.

Lower your arms.

Let me touch you.

Fat chance.

She felt him applying pressure to her arms, his fingers squeezing her gently. She wanted to panic but instead she uncrossed her arms, letting them fall loosely at her sides. His eyes dipped to her breasts, and she knew he had to notice her hardened nipples as they poked out of the thin material of her shirt.

Then his hands were on her. There. He boldly cupped her breasts and her breath wheezed in and out. No boy had ever touched her. None had even considered it, that she knew of. She was the fat girl, the one who stood on the fringes, who had never been on a date or asked to the school dance. So why was the class hunk touching her now, in her hot and cramped kitchen, when she was all sweaty and ill-prepared?

Lila heard the screen door slam shut and the chipper voice of her mother. "Lila, I'm home. Where are you?"

Damien jumped backwards as if scalded. Lila crossed her arms over her chest again and breathed deeply.

"Did you melt in all this heat?" Her mother's voice was getting closer, and then she was there, at the kitchen entryway. "Oh hi, Damien. I didn't know you were here."

"Just getting a drink of water," he responded, and Lila was amazed how normal his voice sounded. She thought that if she tried to talk right now, it would come out somewhere between an embarrassed moan and a high-pitched squeak. "I'm picking up the box for the church sale."

"Oh yes," her mother said, her smile wide. "I thought I saw that in the hallway."

"I'll be going now," Damien said, heading out of the kitchen and toward the front door. Lila didn't move as her mother followed him. She heard the door shut, then her mother's heavy footsteps as she returned to the kitchen.

"He's handsome," she'd said with a grin, and Lila had rolled her eyes.

She mimicked the movement now, in her car as she made the last turn toward her home. Her mother's home. The tiny house that she was presently considering whether to put on the market.

She could use the capital for her move to Portland, for the lease on the space she needed and the equipment. But the house had so many memories, memories of the summer before her senior year included.

More importantly, the house reminded her of her mother. A large, rosy-cheeked lady who had always kept an optimistic outlook on life even when her circumstances would have ground a lesser woman down. It seemed wrong to sell it. Better to take a risk, use her savings and the generous payment from Brice and Janna, and hope that her business picked up fast.

Maybe the person Janna had mentioned at her reception would book her, and it would be enough to keep her afloat while she built up her clientele. As though her mind wanted to reward her for caving to the walk down memory lane, thoughts about her business kept her occupied as she pulled into the driveway and tiredly made her way toward the shower.

In bed later that night, Lila's limbs were heavy, exhausted. She tumbled into sleep as soon as her head hit the pillow. It seemed as if she wasn't done reliving her decade-old "summer romance" (if you could call it that. Really, you couldn't).

She'd lain in bed that night too, sleepless, remembering the sensation of Damien's hands on her, unsure of how to feel about their interaction. Lila told herself that it had been some kind of mistake, some weird alignment of planets that had made the hottest boy in school want to touch her there. Like her mother she'd developed breasts that were much larger than average, to go with the rest of her, she assumed. Damien was a teenage boy, after all, and maybe he'd been blind to the rest of her lumpy shape and zeroed in on her unbound breasts.

The memory of their contact made strange shivers run over her skin. It gave her an itch, down low, in the part of herself that she'd never seriously considered another person touching. She'd thought about it then, what it would feel like to have his fingers there, where only hers had ever been. It was thrilling...confusing...and created a surprising longing inside of her.

The next morning had dawned just as hot as the day before, although Lila wondered if part of the irritation she experienced was due to a different kind of heat, a heat engendered by the Damien's touch. The fan wouldn't offer any relief, so she decided to go swimming in the river across the road from her house. The cold water would be refreshing, and maybe she could relax, clear her head while she floated in the current.

She dressed in her plain black swimsuit which was at least a size too small she realized as she dragged it on for the first time this year. Lila pulled on some old cotton shorts to cover her big thighs, but decided to forgo the t-shirt she'd usually wear to hide her bulging breasts. It was too damn hot to add any more fabric to her ensemble, and besides, no one was usually around the stretch of river she preferred.

Lila walked into the living room, the television catching her attention before she could make her exit. She didn't enjoy being alone in the quiet house, so she'd kept the TV on to have some noise to keep her company. This morning a rerun of Baking with Julia caught her attention, and after turning the fan on, she sat on the couch to watch Julia finishing up her petits fours.

A knock at the door startled her, and Lila went to answer it, wondering who could possibly be bothering her before noon. She pulled open the heavy front door and stood at the screen. Her eyes widened when she saw Damien on the other side, shirtless again and standing on her stoop with a serious face.

She said nothing as he opened the screen door and stepped inside. She didn't know what to say. Apparently he didn't either. He took a few steps into the hall, then must have followed the sound of the television into the living room. Lila's mouth worked but nothing came out, and when he sat down on the couch and turned his attention to the TV, she sat down beside him.

Julia whipped her ingredients as Lila kept one eye on her guest. They'd still not spoken, and the tension in the room was palpable. She leaned back, unsure of what to do, and felt his arm cross her back to encircle her shoulders. His skin was warm but the heat was pleasant, if anxiety-inducing. One finger trailed up and down her shoulder blade, and she held in the shiver it produced.

Lila wanted to ask him what he was doing, why he'd shown up this morning and what he could possibly want from her. But she couldn't. Instead she sat silently, her eyes on the TV but her mind focused on his hand as it moved lower, slipping under her arm to cup a breast. There was a sharp intake of breath, and Lila realized it was her own.

Damien scooted closer, then angled her body toward him. Lila held still as his hand moved to her front to squeeze first one breast then the other. Then it slipped down the front of her swimsuit, his fingers brushing against her nipple, causing it to harden, as did its twin. Before she could react, he was pulling down the top of her swimsuit, sliding the straps off her arms to expose her chest to his gaze. And his touch.

Lila could hardly breathe, sure she would pass out and make an even bigger fool of herself. But instead of fainting, she nearly jumped off the couch when Damien lowered his head and took a nipple into his mouth.

He sucked.

She moaned.

His movements increased in speed, in intensity. Damien was suddenly a man possessed, his hands kneading her chest, his lips skipping from one nipple to the other. When his tongue came out to lick her breasts she cried out again, her hips moving forward of their own accord. Then she noticed his hips did much the same.

Damien released her breasts and leaned back, his hands going to his denim shorts. Lila heard the sound of a zipper and then he was exposed to her gaze. She gasped, feeling lightheaded and crazy in the heat. There it was, his...his...thing.

Cock, her mind whispered, and she shivered but admitted how right the word felt.

It was long and thin, and bright pink. For a second she wanted to laugh. Instead she stared at it. Until Damien grabbed her hand and pulled it to him. Then she was touching it, feeling its strange hard-and-softness. Experimentally she squeezed. Damien moaned.

His hands were back on her breasts, teasing them now, tugging on the nipples until Lila cried out. She continued to explore his cock, wondering about the rest of it, which was still hidden inside his shorts. But before she could go farther, one of his hands grabbed hers. He pulled the hand to his mouth and gave it a lick, his saliva entirely coating her hand. Lila frowned and considered wiping it off, but then he wrapped that hand back around himself. His hand above hers, he showed her how to hold it, how to stroke it, up and down, the pace steady.

Damien returned both hands to her breasts as she stroked him. Before long he released her, then leaned back against the couch, closing his eyes. Lila watched in wonder as his ab muscles jumped, as his thigh muscles clenched and unclenched. Damien let out a moan, and she felt his hardness twitch in her hand. It jumped once, twice, and then a sticky white substance was weeping from the head. Oh shit! She knew what that was.

Instinctually she slowed down her strokes but did not move her hand. It was covered in his seed, and she wasn't sure what to do next. Damien's face was flushed, his cheeks red. Then he opened his eyes and his gaze burned into her. Lila held her breath, wondering what would come next...

The phone rang.

Once.

Twice.

Shrilly it cried that it would not be ignored. Lila ran to the kitchen, turning on the water in the sink while grabbing the receiver with her clean hand. As the soiled hand was stuck under the spray, the other brought the phone to her ear. "Hello?"

"Hey honey." Her mother.

Lila tried desperately to sound normal. "Hey."

"I wanted to let you know that I'll be a little late getting home tonight. I've got an appointment after work."

"Oh?" Lila hoped her mother couldn't hear her breath heaving.

"Yes. I've been feeling a little run down lately and figured I better have it checked out. What good is health insurance if you don't use it, right?"

"Uh huh."

"Well, I'll be home late, so feel free to get dinner started. I love you."

"Love you."

Lila set down the phone and finished washing her hands. Hearing a sound from the hallway her head cocked in that direction. Taking several deep breaths, she made her way back toward the living room. She noticed idly that the front door was standing open. Then she saw the couch was empty. Damien had fled.

Lila woke then, the memory of that sound, the screen door hitting the frame, echoing through her mind. Better that then the memory of what that doctor's visit had revealed. A condition that would only worsen, until her huge, healthy mother had been reduced to a whimpering skeleton in a hospital bed.

She sat up, brushing a stray lock of hair off her face, eyeing the curtains which had yet to lighten with the dawn. There was plenty to do today, many mindless tasks during which she could forget the past. A past that would once again settle around her when she returned to this small house, alone. Lonely.