Page 2 of Curvalicious

Friends and family, with the best of intentions, encouraged me to date again. How could I open up my heart when it still bled for the one I had lost?

My hand clutched a half-empty bottle of whiskey. The room around me felt suffocating, the walls seeming to close in as I drowned in my sea of memories.

With a heavy sigh, I reached for my phone, flicking through the app icons. I hesitated for a moment. Club Curve. The app I was told was an open door to plus-size women, the only type that I’ve ever had an attraction to. The type that knew how to satisfy a man in bed, and wasn’t just skin and bones.

As I opened the app, my eyes flicked through images until I reached the photo of a girl named Mia. Her striking resemblance to my late wife nearly made me drop my glass. She had the same radiant smile and eyes brimming with life and possibility.

Mia.

I couldn’t resist the magnetic pull of bidding for her, the prospect of a night in her company seeming worth any price.

A million dollars.

One night with her would be worth every penny. It was only a fraction of the inheritance I’d gained from Hayley, and it was worthless compared to the prospect of spending one night with Mia.

Some would call it sick.

An unhealthy indulgence, but I needed it. I needed something. One minute Hayley had been going to work in the office, and we made plans of what we would do for the night.

A kiss.

A wink.

A smack on the butt, with promises of what I would do to her that night, and a couple of hours later, a phone call had told me the only thing I’d do with my sweet Hayley was identifying her dead body after a hit-and-run had killed her.

As I clicked the bid button, a mixture of anticipation and self-loathing washed over me. What had I become? Was this a path toward healing or a path toward further anguish? With trembling fingers, I took another swig of whiskey. I was a broken man teetering on self-destruction.

As the last drops of whiskey trickled down my throat, I knew I had crossed a threshold from which there was no return.

Was I dishonoring Hayley’s memory by seeking comfort in the arms of another?

Yet, it would be more than just Mia’s physical presence. It would be her sweet embrace, her warmth, and the intimacy we would share that I was starting to crave. Hayley and I had enjoyed bedroom roleplaying, and I found myself wondering if Mia would be open to exploring the same experiences.

Years ago, there were moments when I would return home from work, and Hayley would have a day off. She would be in our dining room, with chocolate and whipped cream artfully adorning her body, inviting me to savor each delectable treat. As I gently licked them off her, she would express how intensely she enjoyed those moments. With my tongue and gentle touch, I made her feel like more than just a woman.

To me, she was so much more than that.

As I placed the empty whiskey bottle on the table, the final remnants of liquid courage drained away, leaving me exposed to the harsh reality of my choices. I stood up and then left the living room and headed to the bed.

The one that I’d struggled to sleep in the first week that I identified her body. I’d changed it and had to buy a new one, but then little things bugged me. Like the house. Our bathroom and everything about being here, so I’d put the house on the market. Within a couple of weeks, the house would sell and I’d be free from the memories. Then I’d start my new job in a new town, but I wouldn’t be free from a broken heart.

As I lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling, the echoes of her laughter and smile filled my thoughts. I waited for the whiskey to take its full effect. As I succumbed to the embrace of sleep, I surrendered to the regret of paying for Mia to spend the night with me. Yet, what good was all this money if I couldn’t try to feel something once again, as I had done with Hayley?

3

Mia

After closing up the bakery almost two weeks ago, I couldn’t believe I had been accepted into Club Curve. I’d expected to earn maybe ten or twenty thousand dollars for the night, but one million surpassed my wildest expectations. It would provide me with opportunities I had never even imagined.

The rules of Club Curve were simple: I could only apply if I had been taking the contraceptive pill for six weeks or longer. I had been taking it for years due to my skin condition. Additionally, I had to prove I was a virgin by undergoing a doctor’s check-up to confirm not only my virginity but also my lack of STDs. There would be no condoms used; all acts would be skin-to-skin. The client also had to undergo the same tests, ensuring that there would be no risk of contracting anything tonight.

When I shared the news with Lily, she jokingly said maybe, she should gain weight and join, as well. It was a crazy remark, and I knew she was just teasing. She would never jeopardize her relationship like that.

As I drove through the darkened streets, the familiar sights of my hometown gradually faded into the distance. The radio played in the background, but I paid no attention to it.

The club was located in a part of town I had never been to. It was a deliberate choice, a sanctuary where anonymity could be preserved. Over an hour to travel there felt like an eternity while I navigated the unfamiliar roads, my heart pounding with a blend of excitement and apprehension.

I wasn’t a confident driver, which was why I worked in the bakery and never ventured out of town. This would help me gain confidence, not only with my weight, but so many other things.

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