They all meet at a popular Hollywood nightclub called FFF - the place where you are free to be. You can let your freak flag fly. You can live your life on your terms. You can be among your tribe, full of people who support you and accept you for the beautiful, unique creature you are.
Of course, being so unabashed and shameless comes with certain consequences. The more unapologetic you are, the more your critics demand that you apologize. This comes to an explosive head at FFF, which shatters the Groupie Universe forever in the first two chapters.
Out of the ashes of this unspeakable tragedy, owners Clementine, Carly, Eli and Antoine attempt to raise FFF like the beautiful, defiant phoenix it is, which, of course, draws even more critics. Enter Jack Darby, an arrogant writer who uses their pain to make a name for himself. He challenges Clementine to prove that her way of life is any better than the more traditional rules society abides by. She decides to entertain the facade, but on her terms, for her own reasons.
They both quickly learn they have bitten off way more than they can chew.
Enjoy this excerpt from "Full-Figured Floozies," available NOW.
It was her turn to pick their festivities for the evening and she had a whopper in mind for Mr. Jack Darby. They would start on her home turf, her beloved FFF. She didn’t care if everyone got to see the current state of chaos it was in as it underwent construction. She wanted them to see it. She needed them to see it. She wanted every single protester and supporter to know how much they would have to fight back to get back on their feet.
That was part of the strategy.
Leading arrogant douche nozzle Jack Darby to the back room with the dancing poles was the other.
He met her gaze with a skeptical one of his own. “So this is your idea of a date? Pole-dancing?”
“Absolutely,” she said as she tossed off her robe, revealing her flesh body suit. To the world it would look as if she wore nothing at all, which was the point. They thought they could shame her 212-pound body after the horse-riding fiasco, but she came back more defiant than ever before. She wanted them to look at every square inch. She didn’t care if it made them uncomfortable. As long as she was comfortable in the skin she was living in, no one—absolutely no one—got the right to make her feel lesser than just because they didn’t like what they saw. She wasn’t there for their amusement or their entertainment. She got to be a person whether they liked it or not.
One look in those surprised blue eyes and she got the sense Jack Darby liked it more than he cared to admit. She’d seen that look plenty, the one of reassessment, where the guy suddenly wondered what other tricks someone like her had up her sleeve.
“What’s the matter, Jack?” she challenged sweetly. “Never had a workout date before?”
He shrugged out of his jacket and threw it over a nearby chair. “Workout dates are my favorite kind of dates,” he said as he peeled away his shirt. He proudly displayed his bare chest with hardly an inch of fat to be seen, which sadly proved his point. Clem’s tummy tightened a little, almost to spite her.
“Good. Glad to hear it.” Clem walked over to the sound system and threw on a Jessie J track. Both ignored his assistant Ashley, who disappeared behind the camera to film the whole thing. “I wanted to show you some of the tricks I learned from Ana Rivera. You might remember her. She’s one of the victims who lost her life in the main room, near the stage.” Clem walked over to one of the poles.
His eyes narrowed as they studied her, trying to figure out her angle. “Yeah. I remember Ana.”
“A lot of people dismissed her as a stripper just because she knew how to work a pole. But those of us who knew her knew she was an athlete, who simply used the pole to work every single muscle of her body.” With that, Clem launched onto the pole with strength and agility she knew would blow Jack’s small mind apart like confetti. Using the music, she spun herself around, gliding easily and effortlessly, contorting her larger body into elegant lines as she fluidly wound herself around the pole. She climbed up high and, using only her forearms, was able to extend the lower half of her body into a straight line.
That she was carrying more body mass only made the feat of strength that much more impressive, and Clem knew it. She scissored her legs perfectly, showing not only her strength but an agility she knew every single person watching wouldn’t expect. She wore a victorious smile as slithered back down the pole again and glanced to Jack. “Your turn.”
He glanced up at the tall pole. After a bit of strategizing, he grabbed the shining stainless steel.
“Oh, wait,” Clem interrupted, almost as an afterthought. “You really should wear something more… forgiving,” she said as she glanced down at his snug jeans. She pulled a leotard in the same nude flesh color that she wore and tossed it to him. “I had to guess what size. I really didn’t know what you were working with.”
But soon they all would, which was the point. If he thought that he could shame the size of her body, she’d turn the tables in a way that many men feared.
Unfortunately for Clem, Jack didn’t blink an eye. He didn’t have to. That leotard fit his body like a second skin, and proudly showed off every solid inch. As a plus-size size queen, even Clem couldn’t deny that he had a lot to be proud of. Using her handheld remote, she changed the track to Missy Elliott and leaned against the bar, almost daring him to impress her.
Granted, he was a little awkward. He was strong, to be sure, but he lacked the finesse it took to conquer the pole. But it sure was a lot of fun watching him try. His muscles rippled as he attempted to balance himself in the same way that she had. Only he wasn’t able to hold himself perfectly still and vertical like she had done. Instead he wobbled and landed on his feet a few seconds after trying.
She wore the same smile as she walked back to her pole. “Not as easy as it looks, is it, Jack?” Once again she hoisted herself onto the pole and spun around so fast she knew it’d make him dizzy. She practically bent herself in half as she circled the pole all the way to the ground. When she stepped away, she walked to where he stood. Her eyes met his. “Your turn.”
He stood a little closer. “Spot me?”
“Of course,” she grinned. She’d spot him all the way to the ground, the arrogant dickhead.
But as he attempted once again to mirror her move, she found herself instructing him the way Ana once instructed her so long ago. She held him up, helped him find his groove, and worked with him until he could manage at least half of the work she had done.
He was sweating when he finally landed on his feet. “This is your workout?”
“Three times a week,” she confirmed. “We do free classes here for our regulars who want to stay fit.”
“But you’re…,” he started, and for once couldn’t complete the insult.
“Fat?” she filled in for him. He nodded. She offered a throaty laugh before she changed to the next track, a slower, more sensual one, as she stalked back to the pole with her sexiest strut. She used all her seductive prowess to enthrall him as she spun around the pole, lifting herself off the ground effortlessly and seamlessly, scissoring her legs into perfect splits. She practically made love to that pole as she danced for him. Thanks to his leotard, she knew exactly what she was doing to him. His brain may have called her fat, but Mr. Happy was growing more impressed by the inch.
Whether it was that, or he just couldn’t allow her to show him up, he returned to his pole to match her movement by movement. He wasn’t as graceful by a mile, but he made up for it in effort. He didn’t care how many times he had to start over. He was determined to meet her unspoken challenges. Their exertion left them both breathless and sweaty as the last note faded from the room like a heartbeat. She met him in the middle of the room.
“Not bad, Jack. Not bad. Keep this up and you’ll be a professional pole dancer before you know it. In case, you know, this writing thing doesn’t pan out.”
He laughed. “I guess I’ll owe my first dance to you.” His eyes swept her face. “So what’s next on the agenda?”
“Food,” she answered simply. With a snap of her finger, some of the FFF crew brought in a blanket and some Mediterranean food they could eat under the dazzling laser light star show she started with another click on her remote.
“It’s like you’ve done this before,” he commented as he sat on the blanket.
“I’m a card-carrying founding member of the FFF. I’ve got game,” she agreed as she joined him.
“Do you always like to be in control, Clementine?”
She dug out one of the containers. “Always. Don’t you?”
“I’m expected to,” he shrugged. “Are the men you date ever intimidated by you?”
She laughed. “Probably. But I don’t think that hurts anything.” She used warm pita bread wedges to scoop out some spicy hummus. “The best seductions take you by surprise,” she said as she offered to feed him the treat by hand.
His eyes never left hers as he took a bite. Despite her best intensions, she felt her belly stir at what she saw there in those blue depths. As it turned out, she wasn’t the only one challenging someone on this particular date. She watched his tongue wipe away the stray bit of hummus that fell on the corner of his mouth. “Yummy,” he murmured softly.
Happy 2017 everyone! Hope it is full of sexy surprises. ;)