Page 29 of Plus Size Player

“And with that, my job is done,” I said, tossing the empty bottle in the trash. I swept my eyes over the replenished shelves and racks, the updated outfits on the mannequins, and the new signage posted around the store. “It’s ten o’clock, and even with me being a little late, we’re done on time. We did a good job. The store looks incredible!”

“Yeah, we did. And it does.” She put her hands on her hips. “This look that you put together in the window—perfection!”

“You did the shopping. I just worked with the materials you gave me,” I complimented her back.

She gestured to the stack of clothing on the counter. “And you racked up.”

“I sure did.” I glanced at the five items that I’d gotten for my services. “So, the hard work put in was well worth it.”

“Good! Now I’m going to treat myself to something small before opening. Will and I are going to lunch at noon.”

“Oop!” I made a face. “Okay, afternoon delight!”

She laughed. “No, it’s just lunch!”

I grabbed the clothes from the counter and gave her a look. “And here you were judging me about my activities last night while you were planning your own midday activities.”

Flushed, she sucked her teeth. “Anyway, what are you doing today?”

Snickering, I answered, “I’m making content for the rest of the day. Not as exciting as a midday sex session, but it’ll be fine.”

Squealing, she opened the door for us to leave. “Stop it!”

“I’ll see you soon,” I said in a singsong voice. “Have a good morning. I already know the afternoon is going to be a good one.”

“Nina!” she protested, amusement raising the pitch of her voice.

Waving my hand, I said goodbye.

I had a lot to do that day, so I picked up breakfast on the way home. I was running on adrenaline and vibes with only three hours of sleep. My night of fun had really taken a lot out of me. But I was going to rally. I had content to create and money to make.

I entered my two-bedroom loft-inspired space and immediately exhaled. For the last two years, I’d called the converted warehouse home. From the polished gray concrete floors to the brick accent wall, I was impressed by how cool the place looked. But it was the spaciousness that sold me.

Every time I walked in, I couldn’t help but smile. The sleek appliances and open floor plan made it modern and luxurious. The abstract artwork, the unique shelves, and the high-end furniture replicas showcased my style and my creativity. It was tastefully colorful, with vibrant throw pillows on a white couch and effervescent art that leapt from the walls, and the sweet smell of lilac lingered in every room.

It was so me.

Although at least once a week, I questioned why I was so committed to the white couch.

My home was my sanctuary and filled me with peace. And since I believed that people carried energy with them, I rarely allowed new people over. My family and close friends were the only people I invited into my space.

Walking through the living room to the back of the apartment, I went to the first door.

“Welcome to your new home,” I murmured to the clothing slung across my arm.

The second bedroom was meant to be a guest room, but since I didn’t have many guests, I converted it into a closet. The extra-large arch mirror, custom-built vanity lights, personalized shelves, and the extended rack made the room the closet of my dreams. It was color coded, labeled, and organized. Once I put the clothes in their proper place, I headed to the en suite bathroom.

I’d taken a shower at the hotel after the first round with Russ. Ihad every intention of leaving after I got myself together. But that man decided to join me in the shower and fuck me again.

With a smile pulling at my lips, I shook my head at the memory.

As I lathered myself up, I couldn’t help but have flashbacks. It was always like that after a night with Russ. It was hard to shake how completely he handled my body. We started sleeping together after the second date, and my body had been calling for that man ever since.

We’d seen each other weekly since we’d met. Sometimes our schedules didn’t align, and we’d only get a night together. Most of the time, we’d get a whole twenty-four hours. Twice, we got the entire weekend. But every single day we’d either talk or text. Our relationship was fun and free, so the sex seemed better because of it.

But then last night…

“Mm, mm, mm,” I intoned under my breath.

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