Tara 10

So soft.

The thought ran endlessly through my mind. So soft. So soft. So soft.

Tara had come over to my house after water polo practice to “study” for Biology (in our defense, we really did study some of the time and our test scores were just fine, thank you very much). For some reason Tara was extremely tired when she came in.

“Do you mind if I jut take a nap? I’m sorry but I’m so tired,” Tara said as she came in, definitely looking weary.

“That’s all right,” I said, giving Tara’s bulky belly a squeeze as I hugged her to say hello.

“But I really feel badly. We should spend time together now. I can sleep later,” Tara said as we headed to my room.

“We’ll still be spending time together. You’ll just be asleep,” I replied.

“It’s not the same and you know it,” Tara said, “How about I just lay down instead? We can still talk and be together and I can rest.”

“Sure, that sounds great.”

As I expected, Tara was asleep, nuzzled up against me in under ten minutes.

We each had one arm around the other, roughly at the waist (I had to admit sometimes it was hard to find Tara’s so I couldn’t quite be sure, but the waistband of her sweatpants was a good place to start and usually allowed me to get a handle on things—in more ways than one if you catch my drift) and Tara’s head lay on the pillow facing me. I could feel her warm breath ever so softly on my neck as she exhaled. I don’t know precisely what thought process was running in my mind, but all of a sudden I was gently fondling Tara’s love handle on the opposite side from me with my hand (in retrospect, I guessed that somehow I took her regular, relaxed breathing pattern as a sign she was fast asleep and I wouldn’t be waking her if I enjoyed myself a bit). I loved the way that her fat was so malleable in my hands, so yielding and pleasing to the touch. Even such a little thing as this—well, coupled with my beauty lying next to me—was enough to get me turned on.

Eventually Tara shifted in her sleep and turned so she was lying on her side facing me. Her other arm came around me so she was gently embracing me. As she moved and twisted against me, her sweatshirt rode up a few inches, exposing the luscious, vast belly to my view in all of its fair skinned expansiveness. Pinned down as I was, I naturally decided to make the best of things and continued my gentle exploration of Tara’s tummy as best I could, gently exploring her rolls and love handles. Unlike when I’d had the same opportunity with Tara in the changing room around Christmas, there was no frenzied passion here, but rather a gentle exploration where the tactile pleasure of Tara’s body was enjoyed like a piece of classical music or watching clouds go by.

“Mmmmmm…” Tara softly moaned in her sleep as she nestled herself even closer to me. I wasn’t sure if she was just having a nice dream or if she was just pretending to be asleep as I had my fun. Taking the approach that if she was awake and minded by behavior Tara would have objected by now and if she was still asleep I wasn’t doing anything that was waking her from her slumber, I continued entertaining myself.

By now I had begun covering old territory (after all, one’s range of motion isn’t that great when you have a girl as large as Tara fast asleep and pinning you down with a good portion of her weight), but it was just as pleasurable as the first time around. In fact, the longer I went, the more I got into it (even though it would be a bit repetitive for you to hear it all again). In fact, I lost track of time completely because before I knew it Tara was waking up.

“Mmmm…what time is it?” Tara asked.

“Oh, um…let me see,” I said, twisting to look at my bedside clock, “It’s 5:30.”

“What? I’ve been sleeping for an hour and a half?” Tara exclaimed, “Liam! You should have woken me up! I didn’t want to sleep through our time together. I’m sorry. I’m going to have to in a bit too.”

“But you obviously needed the rest,” I replied, “and I had fun on my own.”

“Yeah right. You’re just saying that—” Tara said as she rolled over on top of me and then stopped mid sentence as she came in contact with a rather prominent bulge of my own, though unlike Tara’s this one was below the belt, if you catch my drift. “Oh. I guess you did have fun. Anything I aught to know about, mister?” The last sentence was said in a mock scolding tone, which if Tara had been standing would have been accompanied with arms akimbo.

“Ummm…no?” I said, blushing from embarrassment, half at being found out, half over the sexual awkwardness of the moment.

Tara gave me a quick peck on the lips. “Well at least I know you think I’m hot.”

“Was there ever any doubt?” I replied.

“No, but I don’t mind the hard evidence.”

“You’re a horrible person Tara Kelly.”

“If you think that now, it’s too bad you can’t read my mind.”

“You naughty little girl.”

“Don’t you mean naughty big girl?” Tara said with a giggle.

“Why if your mother knew how mean you were being to me right now, I think she’d give you a spanking. In fact, I’ve got a mind to give you one for her,” I said.

“Ha! I’d beat you up before you ever got the chance Liam. You haven’t been able to beat me yet in wrestling,” Tara said with a smile. It was true. Even though she was fat and had put on weight since we’d gotten together, Tara was stronger and had proved it when we’d wrestle on the floor sometimes. I didn’t mind in the slightest to be honest because it was always such good fun. “Besides, if my mother knew half of the things we did together, she wouldn’t spank me. She’d kill me.”

“I think she knows more than you think she does,” I replied, “but I’ll keep quiet if you do.”

“I know the best way to keep your lips sealed,” Tara said. She then proceeded to kiss me long and hard. When we broke apart, she said, “I’ve got to go now. I need to be home for dinner.”

“I agree wholeheartedly,” I said and gave Tara’s belly another loving squeeze.

“I promise I won’t fall asleep on you next time,” Tara said as she rolled over off of me and began gathering her things, “How about you come over in a couple days? I’ve got to get a paper done tomorrow.”

“Sounds good. I have to go over some stuff tomorrow with Morgan as well for English. One of those stupid partner projects. I hate having to work with other people.”

“Yeah, but at least you’ve got Morgan as a partner. There are a lot stupider people you could have gotten stuck with,” Tara said.

“True enough,” I said as I saw Tara to the door and we had another good bye kiss, “See you in a couple days sweetheart.”

***

Tara was right. Morgan Jones was one of the smarter people at our high school. She was also, by popular opinion, one of the hottest people at our school. If she had the drive she probably could have dropped out of high school and hit the runway as a model. In bare feet Morgan was taller than me by a few inches at least (I think she could have looked clear over my head if she wanted) and had a physique that was slim and trim to say the least. Her blonde hair and blue eyes, coupled with a long, thin face gave her a look that was best described as smoldering. However, Morgan’s demeanor was anything but this. Morgan was an intellectual sort of girl, but she was also a kind hearted soul. Though she could have cut it in the chic crowd of Jenna Shcherbatsky that Tara was party to, Morgan deliberately chose to have friends who weren’t as concerned with the looks she had genetics had given her. She was more often hanging out with Chelsea Magyar and Lynn Phan than anyone else.

Oh, this might be the appropriate moment to mention for a while earlier in life I’d had a bit of a crush on Morgan. Before I’d become aware of my preference for bigger girls, I’d worshipped the ground Morgan Jones walked on—along with about fifty other guys. Back then, I’d never been able to work up the guts to act on my feelings, and then it wasn’t too long before Tara burst into my life and I never looked back. Even though it was in the past, whenever I saw Morgan I always wondered if things could have gone differently, and where I would be now if they had.

But this is taking the long way of saying that I happened to snare Morgan before the end of English class the next day to discuss working on our project that afternoon.

“Hey Morgan,” I said.

“Liam, I was meaning to talk to you. We need to finish that project,” Morgan said, cutting right to the heart of the matter, “Are you free this afternoon?”

“Just what I was thinking. How about after practice at five?” I suggested.

“No can do,” Morgan said, “Practice has been really tough lately. I’m barely able to drive home afterwards. Coach said that we need to be whipped into shape for the playoffs.”

“All right, will six thirty work?” I replied.

“Yeah, that’ll be fine. My place?”

“Sounds good,” I said and then turned away. Then I realized something. “Say, that’s much later than practice ends. We really should try and get this done sooner rather than later.”

“Usually practice ends at five. However, we’re getting close to the playoffs and now practice goes until six,” Morgan said.

All of a sudden, a realization hit me. I tried to compose myself so as to seem nonchalant. “But you guys have done excellently this season. You don’t really need the practice, do you?”

Morgan looked at me with a bit of a smirk. Obviously I hadn’t been all that discreet. “Perhaps, but it seems that Coach doesn’t want his best shot at the conference title ever jeopardized a team because the team got lax and wasn’t physically up to the task,” Morgan said. Though it was tactful, it was also phrased with just enough bluntness to communicate their Coach’s real motivation.

He thought the team was too fat.

“All right. See you at six thirty then, hope you don’t get worked too hard,” I said with a nod.

“I’ll second that,” Morgan said.

My mind was reeling as I went to collect my things. I didn’t know what to do. What I loved so much about Tara, all the work we’d done, was all of a sudden threatened by the fact that she still tried to keep up some form of athleticism. And yet I knew that Tara would never quit water polo. She really enjoyed it and everything that went with it. I couldn’t just ask her to quit, especially since they’d been doing so well.

This explained why Tara was unnaturally tired yesterday. However, at the same time it also raised the question of why she hadn’t mentioned anything to me about the longer practices that were aimed at slimming the team down. My mind was spinning out of control with questions. Was Tara embarrassed about it? Did she think I’d be mad? Did Tara think I’d be disappointed? Did she think I’d ask her to quit? Did she not know what I’d think? For that matter, did she not even know what she thought? Did she really like the idea of losing weight? Had I crossed a line somewhere? In the midst of all these questions, I knew I was going to have to talk with Tara to clear things up, though the thought of some of the answers to my questions weren’t that appealing.

***

After school and before I went to meet Morgan to get started on our project, I’d calmed myself down. I occasionally have a tendency to overreact when something goes wrong, and I classified this as going wrong. Therefore, after a bit of pacing and hyperventilating, I came around to my senses and realized that my worries were probably unfounded. There were a lot of reasons why Tara didn’t tell me about the extra practice. Maybe it was one of the reasons I’d thought up in my panic earlier that day, maybe it wasn’t. I should just wait to hear what Tara had to say about the subject.

Of course, the next day when I was driving over to Tara’s house to meet her, I was nervous all over again. My hands were sweaty on the steering wheel and I was so distracted on my way over that I probably committed more traffic infractions on the way to Tara’s house than I had in my entire life up to that point (then again I was so out of it I can’t really remember, to be perfectly honest).

When I pulled up to Tara’s house, I didn’t see her car on the street, which meant that she must have been held up leaving practice. I also had a tendency to be early for things, and today was no exception. Rather than wait in the car, I got out and rang the doorbell.

Mrs. Kelly opened the door. “Ah, Liam, come in. Tara’s not home yet, but if you’re going to wait you aught to come inside. Have you had dinner yet?”

“No, not yet.”

“Come and sit in the living room then while we wait for Tara. I’ve made a pot roast and you’re more than welcome to join us for dinner, especially since my husband’s away on business tonight. I’m not that good at downscaling my portions, so there’s enough food here for three. You’d really be doing me a favor if you were to help eat so I don’t have leftovers to worry about using later. Tara’s always famished when she comes back from practice, especially this past week. Sometimes I wonder if she should keep up with the water polo. There are days that she comes back absolutely beat. I just don’t see how that can be enjoyable. And the sport is so violent! But Tara seems to like it, and she’s old enough to make decisions for herself, so it’s not my place. Now can I get you something to drink Liam?” Mrs. Kelly said. Have I ever mentioned before that Tara’s mom had a tendency to be a bit verbose at times in that typically Irish way?

“Oh, lemonade would be fine if you’ve got it,” I said, having taken a seat in the living room as I’d been invited to do.

Mrs. Kelly came out and handed me the lemonade I’d requested, sitting down across from me on one of the plush chairs. “You know, Tara has been so happy ever since you two started going out together. I’ve been even happier myself that she found a nice boy, especially after some of the…well, no need to bring that up.” I smiled politely, not really having much of anything to say to that. “What’s curious is how you just sort of popped out of nowhere. I don’t think Tara had ever mentioned me to you before you guys started dating. She usually mentions what’s going on with her friends, but I don’t remember her ever mentioning you.”

Slightly off guard by the line of conversation, I did what I did best: was honest about the situation. “Well, Tara and I were more like casual acquaintances prior to our going out. I don’t think I would have called myself a friend before then. We knew each other through classes, but that was about it.”

“Secret admirer?” Mrs. Kelly knowingly said with a knowing smile.  

I could feel my cheeks going warm. “Well, umm, sort of.”

“That’s soooo cute!” Mrs. Kelly said with some parental excitement in her voice, “I never had any secret admirers in high school.”

“I bet you did, you just didn’t know about them. If you’d known about them, they wouldn’t have been secret,” I replied.

“True enough,” Mrs. Kelly said, and then sighed, “I just can’t get over how lucky Tara is to have met you.”

“I feel the same way.”

Before Mrs. Kelly could continue with her next remark, the door opened and in bounced Tara, hair only partially dry from water polo practice. “Hi Mom, hi Liam!” she said. I got up and gave her a quick hug, which I felt was probably the best thing to do in front of her mother for the sake of decorum. There would be time for that later.

“Welcome back dear. How was practice?” Mrs. Kelly said, standing herself to give Tara a quick welcome home kiss.

“Coach was so hard on us today,” Tara said glumly, “I feel like I want to collapse.”

“That’s because you haven’t had dinner yet. It’s almost ready for you,” Mrs. Kelly said.

“Let me just go blow dry my hair. I look like a mess right now,” Tara said, darting upstairs.

“If you say so, but don’t take too long,” Mrs. Kelly called after Tara before she turned into the kitchen.

I used the brief moment of privacy to watch Tara’s ass jiggle seductively up the stairs in her sweat pants, which were tighter than they were loose on her legs and hips. I longed to really embrace Tara, to lose myself in the warmth of her blubber, to caress her curves…but there was dinner to be had, and that opened up some very appealing possibilities.

I made my way to the dinner table where the pot roast was already laid out, along with mashed potatoes and corn, all of them steaming hot and obviously freshly prepared. It smelled delicious, and perhaps for the first time I realized that there may be a reason that Tara wound up with the figure she had today if this was what she came home to on a nightly basis.

Tara was down shortly, her hair blow dried enough so that it looked only damp. She’d changed into a light green blouse with buttons down the front, but had kept the sweats. We all took our seats and began eating. Mrs. Kelly insisted that as a guest I served myself first, so I took what I considered to be a regular portion and then passed the pot roast to Mrs. Kelly since Tara was dishing out potatoes for herself. When the dish made its way around to Tara, I noticed that Tara not so subtly took roughly double what I had served myself, with a Mount Everest of mashed potatoes for herself and what I concluded was probably akin to an entire ear of corn. My portions paled next to those of my girlfriend. I didn’t think too many guys had that happen to them.

We said grace and then everyone began digging in, although Tara did so with greater gusto than her mother or me. We made idle chitchat during dinner about a variety of subjects. I did most of the talking (a common occurrence). However, throughout the entire meal I kept one eye on Tara. Her blouse was pulled tight across her torso, straining at the buttons ever so subtly. It also failed to reach the waistband of her sweat pants, revealing her soft milky belly, even though her belly button wasn’t quite visible. It seemed that nearly every time I saw her that was the case. It didn’t take too much of a mental effort to conclude that Tara might be outgrowing her shirts, a thought that I found dangerously tantalizing for the dinner table. What’s more, it looked like Tara’s spare tire was growing. It perceptibly rolled over the waistband of her sweats, though not excessively so. Still, I was positive that it was a recent development. Perhaps I shouldn’t be so concerned about Tara and all this extra practice. She certainly wasn’t looking any thinner. In fact, when Tara would look down at her plate, there was more than a hint of a double chin forming.

Tara cleaned off her plate before I was finished with mine and proceeded to help herself to a second serving without waiting for an invitation, simply asking to have the pot roast passed. I didn’t hesitate a moment in facilitating her request. Having never shared a meal with Tara at either of our houses, I’d never seen Tara when she had the ability to regulate her portions at a meal. I was surprised that her second helpings were close to the size of her first serving, albeit slightly smaller. All our other meals had been at restaurants where Tara ate everything that was put in front of her. Looking at it, I thought that she probably ate more when she was at home, which was contrary to my own experience. I made a mental note to suggest to Tara that perhaps we should have some more home cooked meals in the future.

During the meal, a couple of times I felt Tara rub her fleshy leg up against mine gently as a general sign of affection. I did my best not to look at Tara since I gathered the whole idea wasn’t to be openly affectionate in front of her mother. This—at least on my part—was half out of being embarrassed (never having had any romantic experiences outside Tara, I still wasn’t entirely sure to what degree it was all right to be affectionate in front of your girlfriend’s parents), but also half out of the fact that it felt sort of fun to be clandestine about it, almost like there was something wrong we had to keep secret. Of course, nothing could be further from the truth because Mrs. Kelly had been nothing but supportive of us (as I’d imagine you’ve gathered by this point). However, it was still fun.

You might be disappointed to hear that Tara did not go for thirds once she had finished off her second helpings. Having finished my own meal, and declining another serving, I’d volunteered to do the dishes to do my part, even over the protestations of Mrs. Kelly that I had my whole life to do dishes and shouldn’t worry about such things. I prevailed, but Mrs. Kelly said that she couldn’t allow me to do the dessert dishes as well.

“Dessert?” I asked, surprised. I was already somewhat full from the meal. Considering Tara had eaten roughly three times what I had (if not more), I couldn’t fathom the thought of Tara having dessert, but at the same time I knew there was no way she wouldn’t, especially since I was over.

“Yes, I have to go get it from the freezer in the garage,” Mrs. Kelly said, leaving Tara and me alone in the kitchen.

“Dessert?” I repeated to Tara, but this time in a bit of a mock reproachful tone.

“Didn’t you once tell me that you should always eat dessert because tomorrow you could be hit by a bus?” Tara said by way of reply.

“If I did I’m guessing that you passed that along to your Mom,” I said.

“Hmmmm…maybe she told me that,” Tara said.

Mrs. Kelly came back in with a pie. “Do you like lemon meringue Liam?”

“Absolutely,” I said, “But dinner was so good I’m nearly full. You’ll have to cut me a small piece.”

“If you say so, but some time I’ll have to make my Key Lime pie for you and for that you will have to have a decent slice so as to fully appreciate it,” Mrs. Kelly said as she cut a slice that I felt was acceptably small. “Usual slice for you dear?”

“Yes please,” Tara replied. Mrs. Kelly cut Tara a slice of pie that was normal sized, but perhaps a smidge larger than I would have cut for myself had I had more room. “Thanks Mom.”

Tara dug into her slice and I was called away from doing dishes to have my dessert at the table. I dutifully obliged and found it was a delicious lemon meringue, telling Mrs. Kelly so.

“Thank you Liam. I happen to enjoy making desserts. I usually take some to the county fair when one of the daily contests happens to be one of the pies I make. Lemon meringue is a specialty, as is apple. I also do a mean chocolate cake. Curiously though, none of my desserts ever stay in the fridge for long…” Mrs. Kelly said, smiling at Tara.

“My mother always gets infuriated when the family forgets to eat leftovers or desserts,” I said, “We’re not very good at remembering about such things. Maybe if her pies were like your’s we wouldn’t have that problem.”

“Oh come now. Your mother makes fine desserts I’m sure,” Mrs. Kelly said as I finished my slice of pie. Tara was not too far behind. “Now you two run along. I’ll finish up the dishes.”

“You really shouldn’t do—” I said, but then Tara was pulling my along by the arm out of the kitchen with just enough time to say, “Thank you Mrs. Kelly!” before we were in the living room and headed up the stairs to Tara’s room.

Once inside, Tara shut the door and said, “Maybe I need to come over to your house some afternoon and help with all your leftovers. After all, there are starving children somewhere in India or some place like that.”

“That’s no justification for eating leftovers,” I said as Tara and I sat down on her bed next to one another and put an arm around the other, “There’s no way that food ever would have gone to India.”

“It’s all about the philosophy, silly,” Tara said as she nuzzled against me, her bulk resting pleasantly against me. Maybe it was all in my head, but her belly felt like it was larger as it lay next to me. I reached over with my free arm and gently rubbed her tummy. It didn’t yield as much to my hand, full and firmer underneath my hand. I gently slipped some of my fingers underneath the rim of her spare tire, almost cupping this new curve of Tara’s belly. I was sure that if we stood up and I had my hands in the same place her gut would feel larger with the added force of gravity.

“Have enough to eat tonight dear?” I asked.

“Uh huh. I might go back for another piece of pie later,” Tara said with a grin.

“You know, I was thinking at dinner that I might be doing you a disservice when we go out to eat,” I said.

“How so?”

“I think you eat more at home than you do while we’re out at restaurants.”

“Yeah, well their food isn’t as good as my Mom’s.”

“Maybe we should eat in more,” I suggested.

“Every once in a while, maybe,” Tara said, “but not too often.”

“Why?”

“Because we can do this when we eat out.”

Tara rolled over onto me and started kissing me. I wrapped my arms around her waist and found that it was slightly less easy for me to do so. Though I still reached around her, my hands didn’t meet quite as much as they usually did, proof that Tara had grown in circumference from this meal and others. Tara’s exposed spare tire lent itself as a perfect guide for my arms in holding Tara as we made out. Her stuffed gut sat heavily on me. I basked in the pleasure of its weight, feeling every ounce. I ran my hands up and down her spare tire.

Unsure whether the position was awkward for Tara, I asked “You—comfortable babe?” in between kisses when I could.

Tara reached up with one fleshy arm and unbuttoned the top button of her blouse, opening up her massive cleavage to my view. “I am now,” Tara said before going back to making out with me. Her breasts hung heavily on my chest, so titillating in their largeness. I could feel her erect nipples through the cloth as they drew designs on my chest as Tara moved on top of me while we made out. She straddled my hips with her thighs, which I felt jiggle against me with every movement. I slid my hands up and underneath her blouse, making the most of my first opportunity to explore Tara’s body, especially her belly, when it was stuffed. I was really and truly surprised how full it felt in as I squeezed it. I hope that it wasn’t sore from just having an enormous meal shoved into it, but Tara wasn’t telling me to stop, so I figured that meant I was all right.

Finally we stopped making out and Tara simply laid on top of me, looking at me with our noses touching. We just lay there for a while enjoying the others presence.

“You seem a bit uptight,” Tara said.

“Are you referring to…” I asked, letting the question dangle.

“No silly,” Tara said with a sheepish grin that momentarily crossed her face, “You just seem like something’s on your mind.”

“Well, there is something,” I said.

“Okay,” Tara said, waiting.

“Yesterday Morgan mentioned that Coach was working you guys harder to get ready for the playoffs,” I said, “and your Mom sort of mentioned it too while we were waiting for you.”

“There’s always a big push to get ready for the playoffs. It’s killer,” Tara said.

“Well…see Morgan mentioned that apparently Coach thinks he’s got a team of butterballs and that he’s trying to slim everyone down so they’re in better shape when the playoffs roll around,” I said, putting it out in the open as gingerly as I could.

“Morgan certainly didn’t say something like that to you,” Tara said.

“Not in those exact words, but still.”

“Yeah, so what’s bothering you?”

“Ummm…isn’t it obvious?” I asked.

“No. Really Liam, what’s bothering you about this?”

“Well aren’t you going to start losing weight because of all of this practicing?”

“Liam, are you joking?” Tara asked me.

“No…” I wasn’t entirely sure why Tara didn’t see the problem that had been giving me fits for the last couple days.

Tara sighed. “Liam, you and I have at least marginally known each other since before high school, right?”

“Yeah.”

“And in all that time do you ever remember a time I wasn’t at least chubby?”

“Chubby would be the kind word to describe you at any point since I’ve known you, and that stopped applying recently,” I said giving Tara another squeeze of her developing spare tire.

Tara smiled as I squeezed her. “Right. And I’ve played water polo throughout high school, which means this is the third time I’ve done this silly playoff practice thing, each one going for two weeks before the playoffs begin. It hasn’t slimmed me down yet.”

“Well of course you wouldn’t become thin overnight,” I said, “but surely you’ve lost weight?”

“Both of the past years I’ve stayed pretty even. You saw what sort of dinner I come home to after practice. That alone might wipe out any effect the practice might have had on my weight. Then add in lunch, breakfast, snacks, and an otherwise pretty sedentary lifestyle and there’s no way that workout could make a dent overall. Too many calories in, too few burned. Simple math Liam,” Tara explained.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked Tara.

“What do you mean? Of course I told you,” Tara said.

“No, that’s why I panicked when I talked with Morgan about this.”

“I told you a couple days ago when I was over at your house.”

“Tara, you fell asleep on my bed. You didn’t tell me anything.”

“Oh. So I really didn’t tell you?” Tara said.

“Not a word.”

“And you’ve been panicking the whole time?”

“I haven’t slept well the past two nights,” I replied.

“Well you overreact too much to things dear. Sorry.” Tara gave me a quick peck on the lips to further her apology.

“So this isn’t a big deal?” I asked.

“Nope.”

“So you don’t want to lose weight?”

Tara grabbed my hands and put them on her love handles. “Take a big fat guess.”

“And you’re not going to lose any weight due to these extra hard practices?”

“You really are a worrywart!” Tara said, “Just for you, we’re going to begin Operation Polo Plumper. For every pound I lose during practices, I’ll pay you $10.”

“That would be a losing situation for us both,” I said.

“I’m not finished yet.” She rolled off of me and opened up a drawer on her bedside table. She pulled out a box of Ho-hos. “Lynn gave these to me the other day and now it seems I’ve got a good use for them. I solemnly swear that for the duration of these practices, starting now, leading up to the playoffs I’ll make an extra effort to eat all sorts of fatty goodies so I’m absolutely positive that I don’t lose any weight since neither of us wants that. Sound good?”

“One condition: I get to be there for your added efforts,” I said as I rolled over and took Tara in my arms.

“It’s a deal,” Tara said before she started munching on one of the Ho-hos, “I think we’re going to have a lot of fun getting ready for the playoffs.”