Hungry For Love Read online

  Hungry for Love

  by

  Louise Lyons

  COPYRIGHT

  Hungry for Love © 2015 Louise Lyons

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

  This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or business establishments, events or locales is coincidental.

  WARNING

  This book contains material that is intended for a mature, adult audience. It contains graphic language, explicit sexual content, and adult situations.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  I LET myself into my apartment and trudged into the living room. Dumping the two plastic bags of food on the sofa, I toed off my shoes and shrugged out of my fleece jacket. It was April and not really cold enough to wear it, but I’d convinced myself the loose-fitting garment disguised the size of my stomach and the embarrassing start of a pair of man-boobs. So I continued to wear it, regardless of the warm weather.

  I sat down and peeked warily into one of the bags. I’d been to the supermarket after I’d left Dr. Maddock’s surgery and stocked up on some of the things he’d recommended. I’d made an appointment to discuss my recent breathlessness and dizzy spells, and found it to be the most humiliating visit of my life. The doctor had made me stand on the weighing scales in the corner of the room, and announced I’d gained enough weight to be classed as obese. It was the reason for my breathlessness and everything else. He’d recommended a change in eating habits and an exercise plan to help prevent the possibility of early heart problems and diabetes. I’d expected to be given pills, or an inhaler, or something medical. But no, the man had said, not in so many words: “Lose some weight, Fatso.”

  I picked an apple out of the shopping, intending to snack on it while I recovered from the walk from the bus stop to my apartment. I would cook a proper meal later. I contemplated the fruit for a minute, then dropped it back into the bag with a sigh. It had been a long day at the bakery where I worked—almost nine hours on my feet—and my lunch break had been far too long ago. My meal had consisted of a meat pie and a cream cake. That was the best thing about Belinda’s Bakery—the senior staff were allowed to pick two items for their lunches, from the delicious foods on offer. I’d taken full advantage since I’d been made assistant manager a year ago and it showed in my waistline. I couldn’t deny it. I enjoyed eating and after I’d broken up with Mark six months ago, my enjoyment had turned to comfort eating and my body had ballooned. I’d always been what my mother called “big-boned”, but when things with my first boyfriend had begun to sour, I’d grown bigger, giving him one more thing to complain about.

  “Tomorrow,” I said aloud. “It’s too late to make any changes today anyway.” I dug into the other bag which contained some of the leftover stock from the bakery. Anything that hadn’t sold at the end of the day was given to the staff or thrown away, and I hated wastage. I started with the two large sausage rolls I’d procured, moved onto the cheese and onion quiche, and finished with four cupcakes. At least I’d saved the mouthwatering treats from being tossed into the dustbin, and hadn’t had to bother preparing anything.

  Sprawling on the sofa, I watched TV for the rest of the evening; the same thing I did most nights. I’d never been one to socialize much and most of the friends I’d had, had been couples Mark knew. Now he was gone and so were they.

  I watched a program called Freaky Eaters, which featured a man who ate nothing but potatoes and beans at every meal. He’d been fussy as a child, his mother had never done anything about it, and it had got to the point where he couldn’t put anything else in his mouth without gagging. He was a similar size to me, and he was warned he could be reducing his potential life expectancy by over twenty years. By the end of the program, he’d tried a variety of other foods and found a lot of new options he liked. It made me think more seriously about my own diet.

  I usually started the day well with coffee and porridge or some other cereal, and about a gallon of full fat milk. Lunch was always whatever I fancied at the bakery because I’d never been very organized, and planning a week’s packed lunches had seemed like a lot of effort when I could choose something at work. Invariably I selected pastries and cakes. Dinners often consisted of leftovers from the shop—more pastries—although I did cook two or three times a week. I liked chili and curry, and made these with jars of sauce and a mountain of rice. Saturday nights were my treat of the week—I’d get a Chinese takeaway or a pizza.

  Maybe Dr. Maddock was right; maybe I’d end up like that man on TV, looking at reaching the end of my life in my fifties, or perhaps even earlier if I continued to clog my arteries with fat and sugar.

  I heaved myself off the sofa at ten o’clock and went to use the bathroom before bed. When I took a piss and looked down, I noticed my stomach blocked the view of my dick even when I held it out at right angles to my body. It was the one thing that changed my outlook. I’d been alone for six months and the way I was going, I’d be alone for the rest of my life. Who would ever want me, looking the way I did? Even if I got a date, any potential boyfriend would soon be put off if he couldn’t find my cock in the rolls of fat. Shuddering, I went to bed and resolved to get out of it the next morning a new man.

  THE ALARM on my phone woke me at seven o’clock the next morning and I crawled out of bed to begin my bathroom routine. By the time I’d showered and dressed in my work clothes, half an hour had passed, and I went to make my first coffee of the day. I planned every step before I put anything into my mouth. Coffee with semi-skimmed milk, two wheat biscuits with milk, and an apple. I feared I’d starve to death by the middle of the morning, but I was determined to give it a try.

  My day at work almost made me waver—almost. I spent the morning drooling at the sight of the hot sausage rolls in the warming oven at the end of the sandwich counter. Every time the sliding door was opened to take an item out for a customer I could smell them, and I imagined biting through the crumbly pastry into the thick greasy meat inside. When I had my lunch break, I went straight to the warming oven to take one of the sausage rolls, but something made me turn away. I’d started the day well. Surely I could finish one day without cramming more cholesterol into my body.

  Moving away from the oven, I picked out a whole meal baguette filled with ham salad, and skipped the mayonnaise. I went into the staff room to eat and I actually enjoyed the sandwich. The ham was smoked and tasty, and the salad fresh and crunchy. It surprised me somewhat that I didn’t want to rush back into the shop to grab a cake to finish with, and I went back to work feeling pleased with myself.

  When it came to the end of the day, I finished as I’d started. I gave the last bag of donuts to the youngest employee, telling her to give them out to her friends. I left without one crumb of a sausage roll having passed my lips, and I felt proud. If only I could keep it up.

  I needed an incentive, as if my own health wasn’t a good enough reason. The doctor had told me I should start with some exercise, gentle at first. He’d suggested walking and swimming, or even joining a gym. There was no way I would go swimming. I didn’t even own swimming trunks and if I had, I wouldn’t have gone out in public wearing them, no matter what I was offered in return. I couldn’t look at myself in the mirror naked, and I had no intention of letting anyone else see me in nothing but a Speedo. I could imagine the looks o
f disgust.

  It was raining outside which didn’t encourage me to go for a long walk, and that left only one other option—the gym. I didn’t like that idea either, but I decided to go and look around. I could always change my mind. I’d seen an advertisement recently after the local branch of the chain, Fitness First, had closed and a new one, unimaginatively called The Gym, moved into the premises. The new company offered a free introductory session. At least I wouldn’t have to pay to be humiliated on my first attempt.

  After I’d taken the bus home from work, I changed into baggy jogging bottoms, an enormous loose T-shirt, and trainers. I ate a banana to give me some energy, put on my trusty fleece jacket, and set off again. Another bus ride took me down the road where the gym was, and by six thirty I was hovering in the entrance to the building, wondering whether it would be better to turn around and go home.

  I could see people in the reception area, swiping cards to go through the barrier by a desk. A hulk of a man in Lycra shorts and a muscle vest looked like a bodybuilder, with not an ounce of fat visible anywhere. Behind him were two girls, pretty and slender, wearing shorts and fitted Tshirts. Next was another young guy, not muscular, but slim and attractive. The gym was full of beauties, and I was the monster they’d probably all look at and whisper about.

  I waited for another minute, feeling trapped. In front of me was an evening of embarrassment and behind, the rain hammered down as if it were conspiring against me. It was half an hour before I could get a bus home, and I’d get drenched walking to the bus stop. I spun around as I heard pounding footsteps, and spotted an older man hurtling through the rain toward me. I stepped back, trying to get out of his way, but I was too big and blocked the tiny space between the main entrance and the inner door. The man yanked open the outer door and stopped, still half in the rain.

  “Are you going in or coming out?” he gasped.

  “Um, in.” Reluctantly I pushed open the inner door and stepped through. The decision had been made for me.

  The older man hurried past me, pulling a towel out of his rucksack. He rubbed his dripping hair with it as he strode away. I stood there for another minute, feeling out of my depth. Looking around, I tried to avoid making eye-contact with anyone, but the few people still in the area were going about their business and didn’t seem to notice me. The only one who did was the girl behind the reception desk. She was attractive, wearing red shorts and a white shirt, with the Gym logo embroidered over her left breast. She looked straight at me and gave me a bright smile.

  “Hello there, I’m Grace. Can I help you with anything?”

  “Um…” I approached the counter slowly. “I was thinking of having a free trial. I saw the ad.”

  “Of course.” She plucked a sheet of paper from beneath the counter and slid it toward me along with a pen. “Will you fill this out, please? I’ll give you a one-day pass that you can use for twenty-four hours. If you want to join, membership is fifteen ninety-nine per month with full access to all the facilities. Once you’re done with the form, I’ll get one of our trainers to show you around all the equipment and you can decide what you want to do. I hope you’ll enjoy your visit.”

  “Thanks.” I bent over the form to fill in the details, cringing when I had to write down my weight. I was reluctant to give the form back when I was done, certain Grace would be shocked by what I’d written, but she merely read the information and smiled again.

  “Thank you, Sam. That’s great. I’ll enter your details in the computer later and if you decide to join, we’ll have a membership card made up for you. Jamie!” She turned as she called out the name, and a moment later a young man appeared. My heart sank. He looked perfect in every way and I would have to take off my protective fleece and reveal the whale underneath.

  “Jamie, this is Sam. He’s here for a free trial,” Grace explained. “Will you show him around, please?”

  “No problem.” Jamie slipped out from behind the counter and grinned at me. He was about the same height as me, with blond hair standing up in short spikes. He was undeniably attractive and had what I thought of as a perfect physique—muscled in all the right places and slim where it mattered. His white polo shirt stretched across his broad chest, and red jogging bottoms emphasized a slim waist and sturdy thighs. I stared down at the floor, aware that beside him I must seem enormous. If only I could look like him one day.

  “Sam? Would you like to follow me?”

  I jerked my head up. “Sorry. Yes, of course.”

  “Is this the first time you’ve been to a gym?” Jamie led the way out of the reception area.

  “That obvious, huh?”

  “I just wondered if you’d ever been to Fitness First. A lot of our members went there.”

  “No. I’ve never been.”

  “Well, they were…” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “…a lot more expensive.”

  I chuckled despite my discomfort. I was pleasantly surprised by my treatment by both Grace and Jamie so far, although I doubted Jamie would be very impressed if he saw me without my fleece, sweating on a treadmill or some other piece of equipment.

  “Here’s the men’s changing rooms,” Jamie announced, as we entered a large room. “You can put your jacket in this locker here. The key tucks into the little strap, and you can put it on your wrist. Through there…” He pointed. “…are the showers. There’s a sauna too, but you have to go out of here, to the right, and past the ladies’ changing rooms.”

  Nodding, I made no move to take off my fleece until Jamie stared pointedly at me, then glanced at the locker. I unzipped the jacket with a sigh and slipped it off. My T-shirt reached mid-thigh, but did nothing to disguise the mound of my stomach and the horrible flabby parts of my chest above it. I shoved the jacket into the locker, put the key band around my wrist, and folded my arms protectively across my chest. I wanted the shiny tiled floor to open up and swallow me. Anything to get me away from this fit young man who smiled at me as if I wasn’t an unattractive slob.

  “Good, let’s go. Have you got anything particular in mind you’d like to try?” Jamie led me out of the changing area and into a vast workout room. I looked around me, speechless. Treadmills, cross trainers, rowing machines, stair climbers, and stationary bikes filled a large part of the room. At one end a host of weight machines clanked and squeaked as they were used, and nearby was a selection of free weights. “There’s a smaller training area upstairs, and a studio for classes like aerobics, and yoga, and that type of thing. There’s another room off there for spinning classes. That’s high intensity cycling.” Jamie pointed again.

  “Um…” I certainly couldn’t see myself doing aerobics or “spinning.” My only option was to be honest. I didn’t know what would be best for me, and the last thing I wanted was to do something completely unsuitable and make a fool of myself. “My doctor told me to exercise, and lose some weight,” I admitted. “I get breathless easily.”

  “Okay. Well, you should start with some light cardio work.” Jamie ushered me to a bike. “I’d suggest ten minutes on this to start with. I’ll show you how it works and you can set the resistance to what you’re comfortable with. If it feels too much, you can slow it down. Then after this, ten minutes on one of the treadmills just at a brisk walking pace. After that we’ll see how you feel. I’ll start you off on the bike and leave you to it. I’ll be around though, keeping an eye on you. So if you need any help, just wave, okay?”

  “Okay.” I nodded dumbly. It was his job, I realized. Of course he would be nice to me. I might be worth sixteen pounds a month membership. I followed Jamie’s instructions, and he adjusted the height of the bike seat for me. He started up the machine and showed me how I could set a program, or simply pedal and watch my distance, speed, and calories burned on the small screen. Before he left me, he grabbed a bottle of water from a nearby cooler and placed it in the cup holder beside the bike’s handlebars.

  “Make sure you take on plenty of water. Hydration’s really important when yo
u’re exercising.”

  “Thanks.” I nodded and started to pedal slowly. Jamie watched for a minute and then walked off to attend to a guy who was struggling to program a rowing machine. When he’d finished, he wandered over to the weights and began chatting to another trainer. I stared, unable to help myself. The other young man was gorgeous. He was a couple of inches shorter than Jamie, his body slim and toned. His dark shaggy hair brushed his collar at the back of his neck. I was torn between wanting him to take over from Jamie to show me around the rest of the equipment, and hoping he wouldn’t notice me.

  Lowering my head, I concentrated on what I was doing, increasing my pace a little. I gripped tightly onto the handlebars as I pumped my legs. My armpits and the middle of my back grew damp with sweat, but I ignored it. Instead, I looked around me at the other people using the equipment and I noticed something surprising. The woman using the bike at the opposite end of the row to me was easily my size. Her black leggings stretched around chunky legs, and her baggy T-shirt draped her large frame, just like mine. Strands of frizzy hair escaped her tangled ponytail, and sweat glistened on her red face. Her huge breasts jiggled as she pedaled, and she gripped the handlebars fiercely with meaty fists.

  A little distance away, two stunning girls ran side by side on treadmills. Next to them, a chubby, middle-aged man pounded the rubber road, screwing up his face with determination. On the weight machines, several bodybuilder types worked out alongside another stocky man. As he lay on his back doing leg raises, his bulging stomach rose and fell beneath his sleeveless shirt. There were all shapes and sizes around me and at least half were bigger than average. They were people like me, no doubt wanting to lose some weight and get fit. No one stared, or whispered, or looked at me with disgust, and my misery dispersed.

  I can do this. I’m just like them.

  “How are you getting on, Sam?” Jamie appeared in front of my bike. “You’ve done more than ten minutes.”