Page 3 of Double XL Mountain Men
“But it is,” Kiki reassures me while detaching the scrap from the hanger. Then, she holds it up and pulls on the fabric. “See, it’sstretchy,” she murmurs. “It’ll look amazing on you, Cin. You’ll be a knockout, not that you aren’t already,” she says in a hasty tone.
I wince because this evening is going from bad to worse. Not only have I been guilt-tripped into subbing for my friend, but now, it seems she’s not a caterer – she’s a so-called “dancer,” which is obviously a euphemism for something filthy and wrong. To add insult to injury, I’m expected to go out and shimmy and shake my generous assets while basically nude! I can already tell from the thin fabric thateverythingwill be on display – from my generous bust to my round, heart-shaped ass. OMG, what in the world is going on?
But ever the people pleaser, I snatch the fabric from my friend’s hand before stomping into our attached bathroom. “Okay, but you owe me,” I call again before closing the door. “Big time!”
“Of course!” Kiki calls right back with a big smile. “You’re going to love it, Cindy. This is a million times better than staying in on a Friday night with the latest issue ofThe New Yorker. I mean, the guys will be hot, and the music pumping. Meanwhile,The New Yorker’smascot is Eustace Tilley, who’s a total nitwit. They should sub Eustace out for a dude fromMagic Mike. Seriously, Condé Nast’s revenue would skyrocket if they put a hot, muscular male stripper on the cover instead of that ridiculous cartoon man. I’m just saying because Eustace is the opposite of sexy, and I’m not the only person who thinks so!”
I stifle a giggle because Kiki’s right. We’re young women who adore ripped and muscular alpha males, and Eustace and his monocle can stuff it. The problem is that said alpha males don’t adoreusin turn. Instead, the big men on campus swagger by with a posse of girls trailing behind them in a cloud of perfume, and don’t even see me and Kiki. We could be invisible, or members of a local convent, for all the attention we get.
But maybe tonight’s my chance. Maybe this party of men will be tall, handsome, and possessive, with athletic, muscular builds and charming smiles. Maybe they’ll have huge packages ...wait a minute, where is this going?I’m supposed to be a good girl, and yet somehow, I already know that after tonight, everything’s going to change.
2
Cindy
This dress reallywillbe my downfall because it’s even smaller than I anticipated. When I finally reopen the door of the bathroom to model the outfit, Kiki purses her lips to let out a wolf whistle, but I glare at her before any sound can come out.
“Don’t even start,” I say threateningly. “Or else I’ll ... I don’t know, sabotage your midterm somehow.”
Kiki cowers in pretend-fear while stifling giggles.
“No, you won’t,” she chortles. “But youdolook amazing, Cindy. I never see you dress like this! You should gussy up more often.”
I look down at myself with a wry smile because if you mean “looking like a complete ho,” then I’ve certainly done a good job. The pink material of the tube dress is stretched to the max and as a result, the top part barely covers my Double D’s, while thebottom only just reaches the tops of my thighs. My blonde hair lies in a golden stream down my back, and I’ve applied a light coat of rose lip gloss to emphasize the fullness of my pout.
“You look like Cinderella,” Kiki gushes.
I shoot her a disbelieving look.
“Okay, you don’t,” she acknowledges. “Cinderella wears a big poofy ball gown with lots of excess fabric. I don’t know ... you look like slutty Tinkerbell maybe?”
I have to laugh at that comparison.
“Okay, thanks, I guess,” I say in a dry tone. “I’ll take it.”
Kiki stares at me a bit more, pursing her lips.
“You’re missing something and I know what it is,” she says, before getting up to dig under her bed. Then she pops out with a pair of glittery stiletto heels, as well as a sparkly crown. “Here,” she says proudly. “These are the perfect accessories to your outfit.”
I gape.
“No, no,” is my protest. “No crown, no tiara, nothing like that. We’re going too crazy with that.”
“But why not?” Kiki whines. “The crown is so awesome! Here, let me help you?—”
But I bat her arm away.
“Seriously, Ki, no crown. It’s just too ludicrous and I can’t cross that line. I can’t be a hoanda princess. It’s either one or the other.”
Kiki pretends surprise, her blue eyes wide.
“But a stripper-princess could be so fun!” she says with a wink. “We’ll name you Sexybelle and submit you to Disney as their new character for little girls to emulate.”
I snort because this is so crazy.
“No, girlfriend. Absolutely not. Say no to Sexybelle.”
Kiki giggles, throwing a blonde lock over one shoulder.
