Mean Girls
By Lucy
Felthouse
Genre:
Erotic BBW Romance Novella
Synopsis
Mean Girls,
a M/F erotic romance by Lucy Felthouse, with Rubenesque and body confidence
themes, has been re-released with a stunning new cover and a lower price!
Please note, however, if you’ve read it before, that the content hasn’t
changed.
*****
Adele
Blackthorne is a big girl, a curvy chick. She knows it, and she’s been picked
on all her life because of it. But she’s gotten to the stage where she doesn’t
care. She may be Rubenesque, but she’s healthy, too. Much healthier than the
mean girls at the leisure center that point and stare and say spiteful things
about her. Adele rises above it all, and simply enjoys her secretive glances at
the center’s hunky lifeguard, Oliver.
As the
bullying of Adele becomes worse, Oliver finds it increasingly difficult not to
intervene. He doesn’t want to get into trouble with work, but equally he can’t
stand to see Adele treated in such a horrible way. Especially since he doesn’t
agree that she’s fat and unattractive. He thinks she’s a seriously sexy woman,
and would like to get to know her better. Much better.
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Today
Excerpt
As usual,
Adele Blackthorne felt the weight of gazes on her as she walked from the
changing room to the steps to get into the swimming pool. She was used to it by
now, and had learned not to react, to just carry on as though she hadn’t
noticed people staring and not-so-subtly pointing at her.
With a
polite nod to Oliver, the lifeguard, as she passed him, Adele was grateful for
his much more favorable reaction. If he thought she resembled a beached whale,
he hid it much better than everyone else did. The warmth in his eyes as he
nodded back even looked genuine. But she had no illusions, he probably slagged
her off the moment he got into the staffroom, or home, talking about the fat
woman who went swimming three times a week without fail. But for now, she’d
pretend he didn’t. Pretend he thought she was sexy, and wanted to get lost in
her abundant curves. God knows she’d like him to.
It was true,
she was a big girl and she was most definitely aware of it. Ever since she’d
gotten to the age where her excess weight could no longer be called puppy fat,
she’d tried to do something about it. Every diet under the sun, ridiculous
amounts of exercise… nothing worked. Adele had grown so depressed in her teens
that she’d become bulimic. Naturally, she’d lost some weight that way, but
she’d also made herself so ill that she’d had to be hospitalized. It had
terrified the life out of her, and ever since, she’d resolved that she’d much
rather be healthy than skinny.
Which was
why she visited her local leisure center three times a week. She used the gym
and sauna, and went swimming. And every single time she went, she’d catch
someone gawping at her. But because of the years she’d spent—especially at
school—being called all the names under the sun, she’d developed an incredibly
thick skin. She was happy and healthy—so healthy in fact that she could
probably beat all of those skinny bitches at a swimming race. Of course she
never offered, never called anyone out on their rudeness and ignorance, but it
made her feel better to know that she was fitter and much more polite than
them.
Slipping
into the fast lane, she settled her goggles carefully into position—she hated
getting water in her eyes—then lifted her legs to rest the bottoms of her feet
against the end of the pool. Looking at the clock on the wall that counted
seconds, she waited until the hand reached the top, then pushed off from the
side and launched herself into the lane. It was quiet, so she had this section
of the pool to herself. Her arms cut through the water, her legs flapped wildly
and she did ten laps without losing any speed. Emerging from the water, she
checked the clock again and was pleased to note she’d beaten her previous time.
She was just
about to start another ten laps, when she heard voices from the other side of
the pool. Voices that clearly forgot how well they carried on water. It was as
though they were right next to her.
“God, I’m
surprised all the water doesn’t jump out of the pool when she gets in. And the
way she swims—she’ll cause a tidal wave one of these days.”
The spiteful
words were followed by a trio of sniggers, and Adele gritted her teeth. Part of
her wished that she could create a bloody tidal wave, so it would sweep those
bitches under water and drown them. The other part of her tsked at the thought.
Ideas like that made her just as bad as them, just as unpleasant, just as
cowardly.
Because they
were cowardly—the way they spoke about her behind her back proved that. If they
ever passed her somewhere in the leisure center or its car park, they never
said anything, not one word. They’d just scurry away as fast as they could,
then titter when they thought she was out of earshot. She hoped that just one
time, someone would say something to her face, so she could retaliate, speak up
for herself. There was no way she’d start anything—she didn’t want to add
confrontational to the list of faults that the mean girls had obviously
compiled about her.
Sucking in a
deep breath, Adele launched into another ten laps, allowing the chilly water
and the exertion of powering through it to burn away her irritation. Because
that’s all it was—irritation. She wasn’t angry. Anger was too powerful an
emotion, and one that was totally wasted on those ignorant women. She almost
felt sorry for them, actually. If they had nothing better to do than to stare
at her and slag her off all the time, then they clearly had very dull lives.
The thought
cheered her considerably and when she completed her twentieth lap, she lay her
forearms on the edge of the pool and hoiked herself up. Her back was pressed
against the side, and from here she had a perfect view of the rest of the pool.
Tugging her goggles down so they hung around her neck, she had a damn good look
at everyone else. The small children and their guardians in the kids’ pool
right at the other end of the enormous hall, the old people who swum so slowly
as they chatted that she was surprised they stayed afloat, the relentless
movement of the man in the medium-speed lane and, of course, the mean girls who
were in the same sort of position she was, but at the side of the pool rather
than the end. The side which faced the lifeguard station.
Adele
narrowed her eyes and watched them—the two waif-like blondes and a brunette—as
they chatted and giggled, and it seemed for a change, not about her. They’d
clearly changed the subject since their previous spouting of vitriol. Their
focus was very firmly on Oliver as he sat on his lofty perch, surveying the
pools before him, ready to jump in should anyone get into trouble. She often
toyed with the idea of faking a problem, just to get him into the pool and his
strong arms around her. However, she knew that although he’d undoubtedly do his
duty and help her, he’d never believe such a strong swimmer would need his
assistance. Then he’d lose all respect for her, and probably stop hiding his
disdain for her so effectively. And the polite nods and smiles she got from him
were the only thing—aside from the center’s top-notch facilities—that made the
place bearable. She was sure that if the three witches—a nickname she’d
secretly come up with for the women—had their way, there would be a sign on the
main doors to the building saying ‘No Fat People Allowed.’
Meet
the Author
Lucy
Felthouse is the award-winning author of erotic romance novels Stately
Pleasures (named in the top 5 of Cliterati.co.uk’s 100 Modern Erotic Classics
That You’ve Never Heard Of, and an Amazon bestseller) and Eyes Wide Open (winner
of the Love Romances Café’s Best Ménage Book 2015 award, and an Amazon
bestseller). Including novels, short stories and novellas, she has over 140
publications to her name. She owns Erotica For All, and is one eighth of The Brit Babes. Find out more about her writing at http://lucyfelthouse.co.uk, or on Twitter and Facebook. You can also subscribe to her
monthly newsletter at: http://eepurl.com/gMQb9
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