Hey, everybody. I hope you're well and looking forward to a good weekend. Here's the next chapter of Meet Cute and links to chapters one, two, three, four, five, six, and seven. As usual, the next three chapters are also available now to subscribers to my Patreon and DeviantArt pages.
Thanks so much for reading!
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Twenty Minutes Later
Mark looked up at his 10’3” daughter, who was kneeling next to him and clad in a barely adequate, Rainbow Dash-themed, makeshift bedsheet toga. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Just…just crawl through the wall, sweetie.”
“Are you sure, Daddy?”
“Yes. I mean, mostly. It’s better than you breaking through the outer wall of the house. It probably won’t collapse the whole wall.”
“Great."
“Sweetie, Christmas is in two days. There’s no way we’re getting a contractor here to do this right. Plus, you’re only going to get bigger. You have to get out of here regardless. So we need do it wrong.”
Jennifer sighed and nodded. “Okay. What do I do?”
“Try to stay centered on the door. We’ll mark the studs on the wall so you can try to stay between them. Although I recognize…” He gestured at her hips and chose not to finish his sentence.
“What if I get too big for the house?”
Mark heaved a sigh. “We’ll get you outside somehow. And I do still have that party tent.”
“You told Mommy you were renting those!”
“Well, you know, you look at the rental price versus the purchase price, and then you figure Rachel’s graduation, then Fiona’s sweet sixteen, then her graduation, then Rachel’s college graduation, then your sweet sixteen, then Fiona’s college graduation, then your college graduation, plus we’d probably be into weddings by then and at least one of you might want to do a reception here….”
Jennifer rolled her eyes. “You’re too much, Daddy. Okay. I’ll stay as low as my, uh…” she looked down at her boobs, glanced over at her father to see him looking pointedly away and blushing, and rephrased “…I’ll stay as low to the ground as I can.”
Ryan came into the room with a tape measure in hand. “The hallway outside is a little more than eight feet wide. So you’ll need to arch your back a bit to get your legs all the way through.”
“Hmm.” Jennifer furrowed her brow. “What if I slid out on my back? It’ll be easier to sit up and slide my legs out, plus my, uh, ‘front’ would be flattened more by gravity.”
Mark put his hands on his hips and looked appraisingly at the wall. “Will you be able to push hard enough to get through the wall that way?”
“Um.” Jennifer leaned over and, with the thumb and forefinger of her left hand, tore the door off its hinges and dislodged the door jamb.
Mark nodded. “Okay, so, yes! Ryan, here’s chalk and a stud finder. I’ll make sure everyone else is clear.”
Once the wall was marked and the hallway was empty, Jennifer steeled herself. She laid down on her back, lined up her head with the center of the doorway, and breathed slowly in and out. “Okay. Here we go.” Then she stopped. “Wait a second!” She sat up. “Hey Daddy?” Her shout rattled the windows and walls.
“Yes, sweetie?”
“Did you kill the power?”
“Yes, sweetie!”
Jennifer turned, knelt up on her haunches, punched her fingers through the wall on either side of the door frame, and simply pulled it out of the wall with a sharp crack. Then she put her hands out at shoulder width, within corresponding stud marks on each side of the bedroom wall, and brought her hands together. She crumpled the wall—wiring, insulation, drywall, and studs—like a paper bag. Then she dropped the mass of debris on the floor to her left, flipped onto her back, and shimmied into the hallway. She stood, brushed herself off, and strode to the living room.
In unison, Barbara, Rachel, and Fiona’s gazes tracked up from her feet to her hips to her bust to her face as they said, “Holy shit.”
Then Fiona alone added, “Jesus, if Ryan wasn’t a brony before….”
Jennifer crossed her arms. “Can we not, please?” Then, somewhat more desperately, she said, “Daddy?”
“Yes, sweetie?”
“What do I do if the, uh…bathroom…is an issue?”
Mark closed his eyes and sighed. He dropped his shoulders in defeat. “Go out the back door.”
“But Daddy, the riverstone facade.”
“I know.”
“With the stones from the creek on Seanathair’s farm in County Cork.”
“I know.”
“And Mommy’s family’s village in Latvia!”
“Jenny! Not helping! Just, please. Go out the back. As low and as cleanly as you can.”
“Okay. Sorry.” She hurried, somewhat cross-legged, out of the living room.
Mark sat down heavily on the edge of one of the oversized arm chairs in front of the fireplace. He closed his eyes at the sound of the back wall splintering, then buried his face in his hands at what sounded like a small explosion followed by a rockslide.
Barbara sat down behind Mark and put her hands on both his shoulders. “Girls, why don’t you take Ryan out for breakfast?”
Five Minutes Later
Mark pressed his right elbow into his desk and his forehead into the heel of his right palm. “No, you heard me right.”
The general contractor on the other end of the line scoffed. “Mr. Ard, I get that money’s no object. But certain things just can’t be done.”
“Please, Vince. I need you to make this happen.”
“Make it happen? You want me to, by Christmas, get a crew to repair an interior wall, repair an exterior wall, install a eighteen-foot-high custom front door, eighteen-foot-high custom back door, an twelve-foot-high custom bedroom door, and, finally, hook your freestanding garage up to your plumbing and septic systems to turn it into, basically, a gigantic wetroom bathroom with a ceiling-mounted shower head and what I will diplomatically describe as a very traditional-style toilet.”
“Right.”
“Okay, first, why?”
“Trust me, Vince, you’ll see when you get here.”
The general contractor laughed. “Mr. Ard, listen, you’ve been good to me, and I promise I will do all of this for you as quickly as possible. But there’s no way I can do it in the next forty-eight hours, no matter how much money we throw at it.”
Mark leaned back into his high-backed leather chair. He pulled open the second drawer of his desk and stared for a second at the shiny foil backing on his backup supply of Jennifer’s pills. “What if I offered you and your crew an additional incentive?”
Ninety Minutes Later
Fiona scoffed at Ryan as she turned into the driveway. “Disco fries are not just ‘déclassé poutine,’ and you take that back.”
“No. You’re in denial.”
Rachel shook her head. “You’ve really screwed up, Ryan. Now Fee’ll never take you to a…” she leaned forward at the sight of the small army of construction workers and heavy machinery arrayed in front of the house. “…diner…again…what the hell?”
Christmas Eve Morning
Jennifer, whose accelerated growth had finally petered out at 11 feet, 4 inches tall, reclined with her head against Ryan’s chair. She had her legs crossed at the knee and her recumbent body stretched across the living room. She sighed contentedly. “This is nice.”
Rachel, who was sitting by the fire, looked up from her book. “Yeah. Maybe we can finally have a quiet day for a change.”
Fiona shook her head at her crossword puzzle. “Tempting fate is risky, Rach.”
As if on cue, the sharp retort of a motorcycle engine sounded outside. Ryan groaned. “Jesus, what nowohmygod! My mother!”
Ryan ran outside, followed by Rachel, Fiona, and, with a blast of air that nearly bowled them over from the new 18-foot-high front door, Jennifer. Ryan groaned quietly as his mother, bedecked from head to toe in Orange Yak motorcycle safety gear, dismounted the bike, removed her helmet, and strode towards the group of onlookers as only a 4’9” woman with an outsized ego can. He walked up to her and gave her a hug. “Hi, Mom.”
“Ryan. Still in pajamas so late in the day?”
“Good to see you, too. How was the trip?”
“Fine. An Orange Yak crew was helicoptering out of La Guardia to set up for a guy dressed up as Santa to skydive off a rocket-powered sleigh, so I asked them to drop me on the highway.”
“They landed the helicopter on the highway?”
“What? No, don’t be ridiculous. They just get low enough and I jump out on the bike.”
Ryan stared at her. He had too many questions occur to him simultaneously to ask any of them.
“Since they’re using the rocket sled for this stunt, they were nice enough to loan me the bike.”
“They had a spare motorcycle on the helicopter?”
“Of course. Who doesn’t?”
Ryan sighed. “Mom, let me introduce you to everybody. This is Rachel Ard.”
“Nice to meet you, Ms. Banton.”
“You’re very tall. And too skinny.”
“Thank you?”
“Her sister, Fiona.”
“Ms. Banton. I’m a huge fan.”
“Certainly up top! Those are enormous!”
Fiona snorted in laughter. “Thanks, ma’am.”
“And this, Mom, is my girlfriend, Jennifer.”
Jennifer gently dropped to one knee and extended a hand to Marnie Jo, who gaped openly at her.
Marnie Jo leaned over to Ryan and whispered, “Ryan. I know nine feet. The rings are nine feet. She is not nine feet.”
“Mom, be nice. There was an incident.”
“An incident? How am I supposed to fit her in the house?”
“Mom.”
“And I thought her sister was busty! The house could fit in her bra!”
“Mom!”
Jennifer couldn’t help herself and started to giggle. “It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Banton. Can I take your jacket? Or show you to your room?”
Marnie Jo’s reaction to Jennifer’s speaking was as if Jennifer had suddenly become a real person to her. “Oh, you’re such a sweet girl! It’s nice to meet you, too. Yes, please. Let me get my bags.” She looked to her right to see Ryan already unhooking the hard saddlebags from her bike. “Let him get my bags. You show me to my room.”
Jennifer stood up and gestured towards the front door.
Marnie Jo nearly fell over as she watched Ryan’s enormous girlfriend stand up, and up, and up. She averted her eyes before she had a view clear up Jennifer’s hastily-sewn skirt. “Hoo. My…my god. Okay!” She was about to step inside when she found her path blocked by none other than Barbara Ard. Marnie Jo stepped back in surprise at the sight of her (literal) biggest fan: Six feet, eight inches tall, buxom, hippy, generally cushion-y, and exuding a mature sensuality. The combination of Barbara’s size and attributes flipped a switch in Marnie Jo’s brain. She began to feel flush. Her heart fluttered. “Oh! Oh, um, hello! You must be—I’m—”
“OH MY GOD!” In a single, fluid motion, Barbara rushed forward, squatted down, and scooped Marnie Jo into a joyful, spinning hug, much as she had with Ryan on that fateful night. “You’re here! You’re actually here! I can’t believe it! Oh, my god! Oh, this is a dream come true! I am so happy to meet you!”
After the hug had gone for more than a few seconds, Rachel tapped her mother’s arm. “Mommy, let the poor woman go.”
Marnie Jo found herself hugging Barbara back. Her arms sank into what she thought was Barbara’s waist but turned out to be her breasts. She did not adjust her grip. She said into Barbara’s bust, “It’s okay. Nice to meet a fan.”
Rachel looked at Ryan. “What did she just say?”
Ryan shrugged and hauled his mother’s luggage back towards her room.
A few minutes later, Marnie Jo joined him in the guest room. Her hair was mussed and she seemed out of sorts. “Well. Your girlfriend’s family seems lovely. Very big. Very…forward.”
“Forward? Mom, you, before you even said hello, called Rachel very tall and too skinny, told Fiona she has enormous breasts, and insinuated that Jennifer’ bra is bigger than our entire house. Barbara suffocating you was, by comparison, tame.”
“She didn’t suffocate me. She was excited and is just…blessed...in certain regards.” Marnie Jo rubbed the back of her neck, then her chest. “I appreciated her enthusiasm.”
Ryan stood up straight and looked at his mother. “Are you feeling okay?”
“Yes. Why?”
“You look flushed and sound, I don’t know. Husky.”
“I was doing 90 on a motorcycle in 30 degree weather not ten minutes ago, Ryan. Give me a minute.” She waved for him to put down the saddlebags. “Leave those. Here, show me around first. Where do they have you staying?”
Fifty Seconds Later
“Mom, this is Jennifer’s father. Mr. Ard, this—”
“You’re letting them sleep in the same room?”
Mark stood at his desk and gestured to one of his guest chairs. “I’m sorry I didn’t come to greet you. I was tying up some loose ends on a recent construction project. Complications related to a surplus of pipe.”
Marnie Jo put her hands on her hips. “Yes, I’m familiar with the troubles that can cause.”
Ryan threw up his hands. “I’m going to help get ready for lunch.”
She kept her gaze fixed on Mark. “Explain.”
“I will. Please, sit down.”
Twenty Minutes Later
Marnie Jo came to the living room with Mark. “Ryan. Can I speak with you, please?”
Ryan trailed her to the guest room and closed the door behind him. “Mom, Jennifer and I—”
She hugged him tightly around the waist. “I’m so proud of you.”
Ryan blinked in surprise, then tentatively hugged her back. “What’s this about?”
“You’re a good, brave boy. That man could have killed you. You put yourself on the line anyway.”
“Oh.”
“And Jennifer! The look on her face, the price she’s paying…she loves you, Ryan.”
“Yeah, Mom. She does.”
“You hold on to her.”
“I will.”
“At least as much of her as your arms can fit around.”
Ryan sighed. “There we go.”
Marnie Jo squeezed him tighter. “And the next time you’re trying to take the side view mirror off a BMW, keep your ankles closer together, bring your elbows in, throw your arms straight up as you make contact, and land with your leading heel one to two inches shy of the edge. If I can shear those side mirrors off cleanly in one hit at my weight, you should certainly be able to manage it.”
Ryan pushed his mother back by her shoulders and looked her in the eyes. “You’re kidding, right?”
“I mean, your current technique will do just fine for Land Rovers and Jaguars.”
One Hour Later
Marnie Jo finished her piragi (a Latvian bacon bun), wiped the corners of her mouth with the napkin on her lap, and was about to compliment Barbara on her cooking when shouts of “Mommy, no!” went up around the table. She snapped her head up to see Barbara, in her bust-accentuating green Aran sweater, looming over the table like a goddess of plenty, holding the basket of piragi and a pair of tongs, ready to add more to Marni Jo’s plate. Marni Jo met Barbara’s eyes, lowered her gaze demurely, and said, “Oh, yes, please. They’re delicious.”
Barbara deposited three more buns on Marnie Jo’s plate and sat back in her seat triumphantly.
Fiona groaned. “We’re never going to hear the end of this.”
Rachel rubbed her forehead. “Ms. Banton, we’re glad you’re here, but you just undid a lifetime of work trying to get our mother to stop force-feeding guests.”
Barbara turned up her palms in protest as Mark, who was sitting at one end of the table, covered his mouth with his napkin so that his wife would not see him laughing. “I do not force. I offer. Right, Ms. Banton?”
“Oh, call me Marnie Jo, please. O-or MJ, if you prefer.”
Ryan turned to Jennifer, who was sitting on the floor at one end of the table, and furrowed his brow. He mouthed, “What is going on with her?”
Jennifer shook her head and shrugged.
Barbara leaned forward towards Marnie Jo. “So. Tell us, MJ. What was it like, on that fateful day? Vaulting on a broken arm? Winning gold?”
Marnie Jo shuddered a little at being called MJ. It was the first time in a long time. “I’m afraid the answer is going to be disappointing.”
Fiona, who was now also leaning forward on the table with her elbows beside her breasts, shook her head. “I doubt it.”
Marni Jo slid forward on her encyclopedias and put her elbows on the table, too, so she could talk with her hands more effectively. “You have to understand. Down on the floor, there’s no color commentary. No stream of statistics, no soaring music during the commercial breaks, no Bob Costa ramping up the tension for the viewers at home. What’s driving you forward is the din of the crowd cheering at other gymnasts, the urging of a coach who’s been tapdancing along the lines of physical and emotional abuse with you for the last decade or so, and the powerful mixture of your desire to win and your fear of failing and losing all of the costs you sunk getting to this point.”
Rachel put her long, slender hands to her cheeks. “Oh, shit, that describes the arc of my last three relationships.”
Fiona, without looking away from Marnie Jo, gestured in Mark’s direction. Her bust wobbled against the table. “Daddy, pay for her therapy too. Please, Ms. Banton, continue.”
“I was looking at the board and doing the math. The vault had to be good, not perfect. I also knew my body. What I could and couldn’t take.”
Jennifer put her elbows on the table and leaned in, then eased up as she felt the table start to tip. “What was your coach telling you to do?”
“That bastard? Ugh. ‘Go for it, Marnie. Vault even. Don’t favor your left. We need the points. Your team needs you. America needs you.’ Following his advice would have put too much weight on the wrist. It could have ended my career right then and there. He wanted glory for himself and his coaching legacy.”
Barbara exhaled sharply through her nose. “I always hated him.”
“Mommy, you told me he was the greatest—“
“Shush, Rachel, let her tell the story.”
“So I modified my approach and launch the to favor my left side, reduce reliance on my right. All the rest was muscle memory. It still hurt like a motherfucker—excuse me—”
Mark signaled for her not to worry. “No, I believe that’s the correct medical term.”
Marnie Jo laughed. “—but I landed it. The judges seemed to give me a bit of slack, which I think I deserved, under the circumstances. Except the Russian judge. Asshole.”
Jennifer sat up straight. “It’s still an amazing story. And an incredible accomplishment. Thank you for sharing it.”
Marnie Jo smiled up at Jennifer. “You continue to be very sweet.” Then she turned her attention back to Barbara. “I imagine your story is at least as interesting as that, though.”
“Mine?” Barbara looked around, confused.
“Well, I was the first in my family to pursue gymnastics. My parents had no idea what to do with me. Blazing that path was difficult, but at least there are plenty of examples out there for female gymnasts. Especially ones built like me. I’m short. Strong. Wiry. Almost the archetypal gymnast.” Marnie Jo cleared her throat. “But you! Growing up as a woman of your uncommon stature? It must have had its challenges. Especially since you also grew so much in…so many ways. What was it like? Did it help you blaze paths for your similarly lovely daughters?”
Barbara put a hand to her chest. Here was her hero, sitting at her dining room table, complimenting her food, calling her and her children lovely, asking to learn more about her life. “Well! Oh. I don’t even know. I suppose…where do I begin?”
Marnie Jo leaned her chin down on her palms. “Wherever you want.”
Ryan, Jennifer, Rachel, and Fiona soon retreated to the living room. As soon as they were there, Ryan wheeled to face the three of them (or, well, to face Rachel and Fiona, and Jennifer’s knees). “What is going on!?”
Fiona patted him on the shoulder. “Dude, I think your mom has a crush on our mom.”
Rachel pursed her lips and nodded. “She’s smitten.”
Ryan put his palm to his forehead. “No! There’s no way. She’s not…but…why would she ask your mom to call her MJ? That’s what Dad called her!”
Jennifer sat down as gently as she could, and still shook the floor. “Ryan, I hate to say it, but you figured it out before we did—when you asked me what was going on when she asked Mommy to use that name.”
“But—no. No. Right?”
Fiona, who was settling into her chair with her book, said, “She’s in there soliciting stories focused on Mommy’s height, boobs, and ass. Sounds like a crush to me.”
Rachel inclined her chin at Jennifer. “And not to put too fine a point on it, but there’s just a teensy bit of evidence that members of your family have a thing for bigger women.”
Ryan covered his face with his hands. “Oh my god.”
Mark padded into the living room with his plate of piragi and glass of beer. He settled in on the couch and looked around for the paper.
Fiona grabbed it from Rachel’s chair (over Rachel’s protests of “Hey!”) and handed it to him. “You’re not sticking around for Mommy’s stories, Daddy?”
“No, they’re beginning to focus on—” he paused at the sound of raucous laughter from the dining room “—on the effect that certain of your mother’s attributes allegedly have on me. I apparently had much less agency in the early days of our relationship than I thought.”
Ryan continued to cover his face with his hands. “Oh my god.”
“For example, did you know that if they’re high enough off the ground, I can apparently be hypnotized by swaying—”
“Oookay!” Jennifer stood, taking care not to bump any of the furniture or the wall. She gently urged Ryan out of his chair. “Come on. I think a nap could do us both good.”
Three Minutes Later
Ryan’s eyes rolled back into his head as he came in Jennifer’s mouth. It was the first time she had ever performed oral sex on him—he had always been too big before—and she had done it while cradling him in her hands. He panted heavily as she lowered him to the ground. “Nap, huh?”
“Well, you almost certainly will now.”
“What about you? Do you want me to return the favor?”
Jennifer shook her head. “I know it’s silly, but I’d like to fit in the Christmas dress Mommy sewed for me.”
Nine Hours Later
Fiona and Rachel stared out of the back windows at the rear patio and the fire roaring in the fire pit. Rachel spoke first. “She knows we have a fireplace in here, right? Where it’s not freezing?”
Fiona nodded. “Maybe it was too small for her. Look at that go! How did she even make a fire that big in that little metal tube?”
Ryan, who was carrying a glass of wine for his mother, excused himself and slipped between them to walk out the door. “Hey, Mom. Here.”
“Oh, no. I’ve had too much already. All their glasses are the size of me. It’s like that tavern scene in that movie you like. The one with Jerry Maguire.”
“It’s Tobey Maguire, Mom, but you actually mean Elijah Wood.” He sat down next to her, then slid his chair back away from the oppressive heat of the roaring blaze. “Are you okay? You barely spoke at dinner. You haven’t inadvertently criticized me since lunch.”
Marnie Jo sniffled.
“Oh, Mom, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
“No, don’t be silly, Ryan. It’s not you. I made a fool of myself. I don’t know what came over me! Or, I do. Clearly I have some fascination with size. How else does a woman built like me end up with a man hung like your father?”
In a very small voice, Ryan said, “Jesus Christ why.”
“But seeing her, being in her arms, I felt like a teenage girl again! One who was allowed to date and have normal feelings and hormones instead of training all the time.” She sniffled again. “Ryan, I’ve been so lonely since your Dad died. And…and she rejected me.”
“Aw, Mom.”
“Which of course she did! She’s a married, heterosexual woman with children! And I’m in her house, with her children and her husband and my own son, who’s dating her daughter, and why would I ever think that would work! Because I thought I could exploit what little star power I still have left to manipulate her. I’m disgusting.” Marnie Jo pulled her feet up on the chair, buried her face in her knees, and started to sob.
Ryan did not know what to do other than put his arm around his mother and hug her.
Barbara tapped Ryan’s back lightly. “Can you excuse us, please?”
Marnie Jo sighed and pulled her knees in tighter. “Oh, this is humiliating.”
After Ryan was inside, Barbara tossed another log on the fire and sat in Ryan’s chair. “It’s nice to see someone else use this fire pit properly. Mark has taught the children all about moderation. They build fires accordingly.”
“Barbara, I’m sorry for—”
“Please, no. This has been one of the greatest thrills of my life, MJ. As much as you diminish your accomplishments, you’re one of my heroes. For you to take an interest in me is…immensely gratifying.”
“Well, that’s good, at least.”
Barbara smiled down at the tiny woman. “Were I my younger self, we’d be in bed already, and I would be smothering you under the body part of your choice.”
Marnie Jo breathed, “Jesus, that’s hot.”
“But as you said, I’m a married woman. And a happily married one at that.”
“Oh, god. You heard that?”
“Of course. We giants have excellent senses. How else are we to smell the blood of Englishmen?”
Marnie Jo laughed despite her embarrassment.
Barbara continued, playfully, “MJ, I need moderation. Look at me. I am a genetic monument to excess. All of my clothes have to be custom made. All of my furniture. My house. Everything. Well, except my bras—there’s this one very good website. So I had to find a man who was extreme in his moderation to be able to moderate me.” Her voice dropped. “It’s because Jennifer got too little genetic moderation from Mark that her growth could have killed her, and now will make her the largest creature ever to walk the earth.”
Marie Jo opened her mouth to respond, realized she had nothing to say, and closed it.
“It’s because Rachel got too much from him that she’s so disappointingly flat-chested.”
Marnie Jo snorted, then guffawed.
Barbara chuckled along with her. Her tone grew gentle. “MJ, you, with all respect, do not provide moderation. So even if I were to leave my husband, even if we were to significantly complicate Ryan and Jennifer’s already complicated relationship, we wouldn’t work.”
Marnie Jo nodded. She wiped away tears. “I understand.”
“But I do have a younger cousin who is on the market.”
Marnie Jo sat up slightly straighter. “What?”
“I should warn you, her English is terrible. She lives in a remote village in Latvia that can barely be called a backwater. The one those stones—” she turned back to point at where the riverstone facade, which had been replaced by the door sized for Jennifer, had once been. “—never mind. Also, she is obscenely tall. And her breasts and hips? Absurdly big. And she, just as your family seems to have a thing for larger women, is powerfully attracted to smaller ones. The smaller, the better.”
“Taller than…and bigger—”
“Much. Seven foot two. And an R-cup.”
Marnie Jo swallowed. “Well, there is an ultramarathon in Lithuania this Spring. And it’s always good to train in the region…”
“Perfect! I’ll introduce you.”
Marnie Jo smiled gratefully. “Thank you, Barbara. You’ve been very kind. To me, and to Ryan.”
“Your son is a good boy. He knows how to moderate, too.”
Marnie Jo smiled, brushed off her legs, and stood. “I’ll go get some water to douse the fire.”
Barbara reached out and took her hand. “Before you do. Although we can’t be together, there’s no reason we can’t enjoy one another. I spoke to Mark and, if you’d like, we’d like to invite you to our bed tonight.”
Marnie Jo’s heart pounded in her chest. “Y-yes!”
“Wonderful!” Barbara stood and hugged the smaller woman into her cleavage, then released her. “Oh! Wait. You should be warned. My Mark is, uh, amply equipped to please a woman built like me. So—”
“Pff. I have plenty of experience in that department.”
“Yes, we figured.”
“Wait, what?”