Chapter 9 #3
"You don't owe me anything, Story, but I want to know everything there is to know about you.
I just don't want to pry into things that are too hard or painful or just personal.
" I consider for a moment. "How about you tell me what you feel comfortable telling me?
As little or as much as you want. Ball's in your court. "
She rotates and scoots to lay lengthwise on the couch, her head on my lap and her legs curled, heels tucked against her butt; she takes one of my hands and toys with it with both of hers, idly and affectionately.
"Just tell me what you want to know. Tell me what you think you saw that concerns you. "
"You seemed…I dunno. Insecure, maybe. About your hips."
"You mean my giant ass."
"You mean your big, beautiful, perfect ass?"
"Keyword being big."
"Keyword being perfect."
She sighs. "I don't know too many women that aren't at least a little insecure about the size of their butt, Killy, be it too big or too flat. It can be a debilitating insecurity. Mine’s always been a little bigger than I'd like, and no matter what I do, it's always just been a little disproportionately too big for the rest of my frame.
As you may have noticed, I'm kind of on the shorter side.
I'm not overweight, and I know I'm fit and strong, I just—" she sighs, covers her face.
“The fact is, one dude said one stupid, thoughtless thing about the size of my ass, and it just got stuck in my head.
And it was years ago!" she shakes her head, laughing.
"I shouldn't let it bother me, but it does. "
"What'd he say?"
"Well, that's the thing. He claims, and I believe him, that he meant it as a compliment."
I wince. "Oh, shit. That's the worst."
"He said I have a fat ass. The context—" she blinks at the ceiling. "We were, um—somewhere between third base and home, if you know what I mean. And he—he smacked my butt. Told me to get my fat ass over there."
I grimace, huffing. "Ooh. Yeah, not a good move."
"I mean, I suppose if the girl is, like, super confident about her ass, maybe. But I can't see any woman I know taking it as a compliment if a guy says, during sex, that you have a fat ass." She flicks her gaze to mine. "Thoughts?"
"Well, as a guy who tends to be attracted to, um…
bigger backsides, I get where he was probably coming from.
He probably really did mean it as a compliment, and a significant one, at that.
I'm not defending his word choice, and I'd certainly never use that particular word in reference to any part of a woman's body in any context. "
"Because you're not an idiot."
"Welllllll?" I ask, drawing it out in a squeaky timbre, for humor value. "I also may have learned that the hard way. Not like that poor dumb doofus did, but I learned."
"Killy, c'mon."
"Here's my take, okay? I think you're the most gorgeous woman I've ever seen.
On TV or in real life, naked or clothed.
Your body is—" I shake my head. "You have the body of a goddess.
And the fact that your butt is not a cute, tiny little thing is, in my personal opinion, a damned good thing.
There's nothing wrong with tiny butts, just like there's nothing wrong with big ones.
It's all a matter of perspective, right?
And my perspective is that you have a perfect ass. "
"Killy, you're mincing words."
"I'm being tactful. The guy hurt your feelings, left you with an insecurity that still bothers you years later. The last thing I want to do is make it worse."
She reaches up and cups my jaw. "Killy, that's sweet. But you won’t. For one thing, that guy didn’t…care about me. Not the way you do."
"The word is love, but yes."
"That's a different conversation. And a big one."
"I know."
"So what I hear you saying is that I do have a big ass, but it's a good thing, and the guy was just so caught up in the moment that he used the wrong word?"
"I mean, yeah? Basically? I don't know, Story. Obviously I wasn't there and I don't know him. Maybe he was just an idiot and an asshole."
"An idiot, yes. An asshole?" She sighs. “No, he wasn't. He didn't mean to hurt my feelings. I’m honestly as much, if not more, upset that I still have his voice in my head saying, 'get that fat ass over here,' whenever someone sees me naked for the first time than I am about what he said.
I hate that I worry whoever it is will think I have a fat ass. "
"But is it the word ‘fat’ that sticks, or the idea that your ass isn't—I dunno—smaller?"
"Both?" she says, uncertainly. "He used the word fat. It bothered me. It stuck. And I've done all the usual things to make it smaller, or at least tighter, and seem to get nowhere."
"I've been obsessed with your ass since I was thirteen, Story. I love it exactly how it is. I love the size of it. I love the shape of it. And I love those things all the more now that I've had the privilege of seeing it naked and getting to touch it."
"Privilege? Killy, you're a nutcase."
"It is a privilege, Story!” I protest. "To be with you at all is a privilege. To know you. To be your friend, let alone to be with you in a romantic or sexual context. You amaze me, you inspire me, you challenge me. And yeah, you turn me on. You're so fucking sexy it makes me crazy."
She turns her face into my belly. "You're killin’ me, Killy.” She covers her face with both hands, holds a lungful of air for a four-count, and then lets it out slowly through her palms.
“Can I ask you about something else?” I say.
She nods. “You can ask.”
"The bossy in the bedroom thing."
She leaves her hands on her face for a while, and I let her take her time thinking. "That's a bit of a bigger issue."
"More idiot men and their thoughtless and cruel assholery?"
"I wish it was that simple."
"You don't have to explain anything, Story." I slide the pad of my thumb over her lips, and she nips playfully at my thumb. "All that really matters to me is that I really fucking liked it."
To my horror and confusion, my words, instead of reassuring her, cause tears to spring to her eyes and trickle in gravity-curved trails down her cheeks. "Oh, my sweet Killy."