Free Anywhere (BBW Romance) by Christin Lovell

shape with hips that were large, feminine and gave the illusion of a smaller waist.
    “Oh, God, that was heaven on earth. I never knew taking a cold shower could feel so damn good. It was orgasmic after suffering in that sauna out there,” she exclaimed as she pointed to the sliding glass doors.
    “Are you going to be complaining about the heat the entire time we’re here?”
    “Probably.”
    “Uh huh. Good to know. Now let me go experience what you’re calling orgasmic.” I brushed past her, clothes in hand.
    Ten minutes later I knew exactly what Stella had meant. The cold water trickled down my scorching, sticky body, cooled every pore on my massive surface with delight. Usually the cold caused my muscles to tighten, but today, they relaxed beneath the frigid water that pounded into a soothing massage. I stretched languidly as I stepped out of the shower. I rubbed a thin layer of lotion all over my skin before dressing and throwing on a pair of gold sandals.
    “You need some color. Wear your teal wrist watch.”
    “It’ll slide around in the sweat on my wrist.”
    “Honey, you can wear it and you still won’t suffer the same drench as me. Besides, your shirt couldn’t cut any lower without your boobs hanging all the way out and those shorts, they’re one-third the length of my capris.”
    “Point made.” I grabbed the hard plastic watch, its white face stood out brilliantly against the bright color of the band. I had to give Stella props; it did look great with the outfit and contrasted nicely with my bright red manicure. I self-consciously tugged my shorts down and my shirt up.
    “You are not going to be doing that all night, are you?”
    “No? Maybe? I don’t know. I’m not used to wearing so little.”
    “We’re in a foreign country amongst strangers we will never see again. We probably won’t even see good ole Handy Manny from the airport either. Don’t worry about how you look in the outfit. Now go blow dry your hair so it doesn’t become a big, brown fro. That never looks good on a white chick.”
    “Yes, mother.” I stuck my tongue out as I grabbed my blow dryer and round brush. Thank God the blower had a cool setting or else I’d be walking around Puerto Rico with a bird’s nest on my head.
    “By the way, are you wearing cute, sexy undies? You know, just in case,” she asked pointedly.
    “Considering a thick layer of cotton would cause me to soak them in half a minute, and not out of sexual need, I opted for lacy hipsters, which I do believe will meet with your approval.”
    “My bwen.” She smiled approvingly as she threw a beaded necklace over her head. Her mocha skin was smooth and creamy, seemingly more even-toned next to the vivid pink of her shirt and the earthy purple and silver of her necklace.
    “ Muy bien ,” I corrected. She ignored me.
    Stella pulled out her flat iron and plugged it in beside my blow dryer. After applying serum to her short, black locks she began teasing her hair to make the red highlights stand out rather than blend in.
    We finished getting ready at the same time and turned, giving each other a once over.
    “You look good, girl,” she said, fluffing my big curls.
    “You too. I still say this is my favorite style on you.”
    “I work with what I’ve got. You need to too, so no rubber bands tonight.”
    I narrowed my eyes at her. “That is so not fair considering how thick my hair is. That more than evens the sweat factor of our skin to clothes ratio.”
    “Fine. Take one in your purse, but don’t even think about taking Big Bertha with you.”
    “Now I might have to just to spite you,” I playfully chided.
    To Stella’s relief, I left my coveted Nine West purse in my suitcase and opted for a more manageable metallic Coach wristlet. I shoved my coin purse, cell phone, room key and hair band into the much smaller bag. It barely zipped shut, but luckily it managed to hold everything I needed for the night. I rolled an extra layer of deodorant