Such a Pretty Face by Annabelle Costa

Chapter 29

I saw this news segment a while ago where women were talking about how rare it was to walk down the street without some asshole shouting a comment about her body. Now I’m sure it’s unpleasant to get catcalls. But let’s be real here: it is much harder to walk down the street as a fat girl.

Most of the time, the men ignore me. That’s preferable.

But sometimes I’ll walk past a group of young men, maybe construction workers or maybe some kids hanging out, and I know they’re going to say something about me. I can feel it. And all I can do is walk by as quickly as I can, keeping my head down and pretending I don’t hear them.

Today I walk past two men in their twenties, and for reasons that escape me, one of them found it fit to yell at me, “Hey, girl, your ass is too fat for your jeans!”

Here’s the thing: my ass is too fat for my jeans. But I don’t have the time or energy or money to run out and buy a new wardrobe every time I gain some weight. So I’m squeezing into these stupid Levis until I can’t physically pull them on or else they split a seam. Or the crotch wears out. Why does the crotch always wear out so damn fast on my pants?

Anyway, I was hoping it wasn’t that noticeable my jeans were too small. But I was wrong. And thanks to those two idiots on the street, that’s all I can think about when I take the elevator up to Brody’s apartment.

When he opens the door for me, he’s got a dopey grin on his face. He looks so happy to see me, I almost forget about my poorly fitting jeans. Maybe he doesn’t care.

“Hey there,” he says.

“Hey yourself.” I tug on my jeans and glance around the apartment. “Where’s Mike?”

“Real nice,” Brody snorts. “Who are you dating anyway—me or Mike?”

“Can I have a minute to think about it?” I tease him. I’m kidding around, but Mike’s been present during a fair proportion of our dates so far. It doesn’t even make me uncomfortable anymore. At some point, if we have sex, Mike’s going to be around to help out. But we’re not there yet.

“I had some different plans for tonight,” he says, his voice dripping with suggestion. “Let’s go to my bedroom, okay?”

My eyes widen. “Without Mike?”

Brody gives an exasperated huff. “Seriously, Emily?”

“Sorry,” I say sheepishly.

I follow Brody to his bedroom, feeling increasingly nervous. We rarely go into his bedroom. Aside from a few times when we cuddled in his bed after Mike was gone for the night, we have almost exclusively stayed in the living room. I’m not entirely sure what Brody has in mind, but I think back to that day Abby walked in on us in my bedroom, and that gives me a bit of a clue.

There’s a contraption by the bed that Brody called a “Hoyer lift.” Mike doesn’t need to use it, but his morning PCA is female and uses it to help transfer him from his bed to his wheelchair. It’s a big metal contraption with hooks coming off it that attaches to a big red sling. As I said, Mike doesn’t need to use it, but he used it once so that I could see how it was done. It was a little weird seeing Brody suspended in the sling like that, especially when he started having muscle spasms in his legs the second he got in the air.

The bathroom has even more crazy stuff in it. The toilet has bars surrounding it like a mini jungle gym on either side. And he’s got a second wheelchair in there that’s mostly made from plastic, and instead of a regular seat, it has what looks like a toilet seat. I asked him about that once and he told me it was his shower wheelchair.

“But how do you get into the shower?” I asked him, since the shower wheelchair didn’t have any sort of joystick control that he’d be able to work with his limited arm movement.

“Mike pushes me in,” he said. He frowned at me. “You realize I can’t shower by myself, right? I get help with that.”

I hadn’t realized that. Although it made sense. Anyway, I could see Brody was a little embarrassed about the whole thing, so I didn’t bother him with any more questions.

Right now, however, Brody is staring straight at his bed. He has a very serious expression on his face.

“Sit down,” he says, gesturing at his bed.

I obediently sit on the bed. He moves forward and plants his soft lips to mine. Of course, he’s kissed me tons of times before, but the way he’s kissing me, with such intensity, I sense something different is coming. Then he presses his arm against my chest. “Take off your jeans and your underwear,” he says. And when I look at him questioningly, he adds, “Please.”

This is no simple task. As I mentioned before, my jeans are a bit snug. Getting free from them requires about five minutes of concerted effort. There are angry red marks on my waist and where the seams were pressing into my thighs, and I’m sort of mortified. I wish this room were darker.

“You look so beautiful,” Brody breathes. His voice is thick with longing—he sounds like he means it, which makes me relax a bit more. “Now lie down.”

I lie down on the bed, as Brody nudges my legs apart. He kisses my bent knee and moves his lips down my thigh. “You’re too low,” he finally says.

“Huh?” I say, lifting my head.

He grins at me. “Your pussy is too low. Could you stick a couple of pillows under your ass?”

It ends up taking more than a couple of pillows, but I finally get in a position that Brody feels comfortable with. And he goes to town on me.

His kisses on my thighs feel so good, but my body still tenses. I’ve never been eaten out before. Obviously. A million thoughts race through my head. What if I’m sweaty? Did I shower good enough? Do I smell okay?

“Relax, Emily,” he says. “You taste so good, I love doing this.”

His words put me at ease, and pretty soon, it feels too good to care. Brody’s breath is hot and his tongue flicks at my clit expertly. I’ve never experienced anything beyond my two fingers, so not having control over it is a bit of a rush. And he’s fantastic at it. I mean, I think he is. I have no basis for comparison, but I’ve never felt this kind of pleasure. It’s amazing.

I orgasm way faster than I ever have before. My thighs squeeze against Brody’s ears as I throw my head back and cry out. And again and then even one more time. It’s not until I go completely limp that Brody lifts his head.

“Good?” he asks.

I smile like a fool at him. “Couldn’t you hear me screaming?”

“No, actually.” He grins impishly. “You were kinda covering my ears.”

“I’m sorry…”

“That’s okay. It let me know you liked it.”

“Liked it? I loved it. It was amazing,” I tell him. “You’re really good at that.”

“Does that mean you’ll let me do it again?” he asks, eyes twinkling.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

Brody laughs. He wheels around the side of the bed so he can gaze at my face. “I wish I could lie with you.”

I see the longing in his eyes and I glance over at the Hoyer lift. I take a deep breath. Here goes nothing. “Do you want me to try to transfer you?”

He looks over at the lift then back at me. “Do you think you could?”

“Sure,” I say with much more confidence than I feel. “Mike showed me that time.”

“Right…” Brody bites his lip. And because he must really, really want to lie next to me, or else he’s completely lost his mind, he says, “Okay, fine. Let’s give it a try.”

I get out of bed and Brody positions his wheelchair beside the lift. He’s pretty used to this routine, so at least he knows what to do. He attempts to pull off the belt across his chest, trying to scrape at it with his fingers at first, then trying to get under it with his hand. But he just can’t get it.

“Nancy made it too tight,” he sighs. “Can you open my belt?”

I open the Velcro on his belt, and it’s hard not to notice how much his belly bulges out even though he’s not at all fat like me. He continues to instruct me: “Put the sling behind my back. I can lean forward, but you have to brace me.”

I help Brody lean forward. His body feels almost like a sack of potatoes leaning against me. He’s not able to help me at all. It’s a struggle but I get the sling behind his back. Mostly.

“Okay,” he says. “Now take the two loops at the edges and pull them under my thighs.”

I lift Brody’s left leg, which is relatively light at least, and pull the first loop under and do the same on the second loop. By now, I’m sweating like a pig. I’m sure he can tell because he says, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” I lie.

At this point, we’re both wishing we hadn’t gotten started doing this. I can tell that Brody doesn’t trust me and feels nervous about the whole thing. And I don’t trust me and I feel nervous about the whole thing.

“Okay,” he says. “Now you want to attach the loops to the cradle.”

I attempt to do this. But I’ve done something wrong along the way because the loops don’t reach. I’m trying my best, using all my strength, but they are about six inches short. I give them a good yank, which causes Brody to slip down in his wheelchair. “Emily!” he cries out.

“I’m sorry,” I say as I grab on to him to help him regain his balance.

“It’s okay,” he says. “But… this was a bad idea. Just take the sling off me.”

Brody doesn’t seem to relax until I’ve gotten him out of the sling and replaced the belt across his lap. What a mess. So much for even contemplating getting to have sex without Mike’s help.

“I’ll have Mike train you,” Brody says, reading my thoughts. “That way we won’t have a problem next time.”

“Okay,” I say.

He sighs. “I don’t love the idea of you having to help me in and out of my wheelchair, but I guess it’s the only way we’re going to get some privacy. You don’t mind?”

“Of course not,” I say.

“You’re so great about everything.” He looks up at me and runs his curled fingers over my arm. Then he takes a deep breath. “I… I love you, Emily.”

I get this wonderful little tingling in my stomach. He loves me. He loves me. A man who has seen me naked in all my cellulite glory is actually in love with me. I know this would sound silly to most women, but I honestly wasn’t sure if it was something I’d ever experience.

I’m so excited by Brody’s declaration that I hardly notice that he’s staring at me, looking worried. It takes me a second to realize why.

“I love you too,” I say.

His face relaxes into a smile. And when we kiss again, it’s even better than it was before, if that was possible.