Big Mike Ch. 22

I didn't say much on the drive down, as I was continually reeling from the little surprises Mike had in store for me; the first of which was the car itself. I had expected an orange City Taxi Van with an old, turbaned Sikh driver to be parked in front of my building. Instead I saw a shiny black Cadillac Escalade, against which leaned a short, broad-shouldered Italian-looking guy smoking a cigarette. As Mike approached the vehicle, I slowed in disbelief.

"Whaaaat? This is your ride?"

"Yeah. It's Niko's car. He's a driver."

The Italian-looking dude gave me a nod and a wave just before he snuffed out his cigarette with pinched fingertips. He was probably mid-forties, moustachioed, and had a rough-around-the-edges gentlemanly look to him. Good look for a driver. He walked around to the driver's side and gave himself an aerosol spray before getting in the car. Mike held the back door open for me as he waited.

I was in minor shock at how much effort Mike was putting in, and I blushed unabashedly as I got in the car and he closed the door behind me. While Mike walked around to the opposite side, Niko looked back at me through the rear view mirror.

"Nice night, my dear."

Mike opened the door on his side and I got to see how a six foot eight, seven hundred and fifty pound guy enters a vehicle. It wasn't quick but it wasn't embarrassing, and soon the car's interior shrunk dramatically as Mike filled it.

"Off we go," said Niko, and we were off.

Mike absolutely filled the back seat, taking up two spaces and manspreading wide to accommodate his big belly between his knees. His right thigh was almost touching my left and his big hands rested on each knee. I was buckled up, but that didn't appear possible for Mike. I was still a bit nervous and quiet from this treatment he was giving me.

"I thought we'd go to a diner. It's this old place that I used to go with my buddies all the time. Just kinda simple food. Smoked meat sandwiches and burgers and stuff."

"Awesome. I can't wait."

He smiled again but looked away. I tried not to stare so deliberately, but Mike was hella good looking. His beard was groomed and he'd left his glasses at home. I'd always found him sexy, but in a 'husky nerd' kinda way. That evening he looked more like a plus model in a whiskey commercial, adding some sophistication to his masculine bulk. We were quiet as the car moved through town.

"When's the last time you saw Sid, Mikey?"

Niko seemed to sense our mild apprehension, and filled the silence for us. Mike responded casually while I reeled at the nickname 'Mikey.' Niko was obviously more than just a random driver.

"Oh, probably a couple years. Hope he's doing alright."

"Yeah, he's still working hard. He'll be glad to see you. You better tip his girls well."

"Yeah, for sure."

Niko spoke to Mike with a brotherly tone. I wanted to inquire about how they knew each other, but I was more comfortable just staying quiet and taking in this new atmosphere. I wasn't used to seeing Mike speak comfortably with anyone but Aron.

It was after eight thirty when we arrived at the diner. I stepped out and looked up at the bright red lights that read 'Nightlight Diner' in cursive neon tubes. Across the sparsely occupied parking lot was a chain link fence that separated us from a line of train tracks. I hadn't realized on the drive over but we'd ended up in a rough part of town.

"Text me," said Niko to Mike. He backed the Escalade up and zoomed out of the parking lot, leaving the two of us at the door. I looked to Mike, who opened the front door for me.

"Oh, why thank you."

I walked into an atmosphere of warm, steamy air and dim, yellow lights. The place was somewhat of a retro-style diner, about a sixty-seater, which included glass-topped tables, cherry red booth seats, and a line of bar stools against a tiled wall the colour of mint toothpaste. It was a dive, but a charming dive.

Mike stepped in after I did and everyone in the room turned to notice his size. Mike was tremendous and dapper in his black jacket, and me, casual and lazy in my grey sweats and green sweatshirt. I wondered how we looked together in the room. A couple booths and a table were still occupied after the rush. The kitchen was partially open and I could see a couple cooks working. One girl worked the floor while another doing her cash got up to greet us.

"Oh hey. Are you here to see Sid?"

"Uhh, no. I mean if he's here, I'll talk to him. But we're just here to eat. Table for two."

The waitress obviously recognized Mike, and nodded up at him with a prolonged stare and an open mouth. She glanced over to me and briefly looked me up and down. Her attention then turned to the rest of the room, probably considering where she could possibly find room for Mike.

"Maybe the table in the corner there," Mike pointed out. "That's where we used to sit when my buddies and I would come here late." The table he pointed to was free-moving, not bolted down like the booth seats, but with booth seating on one side and two regular chairs on the other. It was a clear pick for a huge guy who needed to move furniture to accommodate his size.

She seated us and brought us some waters while we settled into place. Mike and I sat side by side on the red booth seating and we'd tilted the table to a diagonal to accommodate his belly. He'd taken off his jacket, and the sleeves of his dark grey sweater were rolled up. The combination of his big belly in that snug sweater and the fat bulk of his crossed, furry arms was delightful. Mike looked better than ever and I found myself checking him out for the first time all over again. I felt a revitalized excitement from being so close to such a big man, and being on an actual date instead of hunkered down in his basement apartment.

"So, uh...sorry about yesterday."

Mike apologized but I barely heard him, still occupied by his abundant presence next to me. The little game of sex torture that he'd subjected me to had broken me a little bit. The bondage, the hours of waiting, the rough anal sex, and the deprecating golden shower: it had been beyond my limit but I can't say I hated it. Looking at Mike in that booth, dressed sexy as hell and apologizing in his deep, bassy voice, I couldn't help but brush it off.

"I've been having a really good time with you, so I hope I didn't ruin it."

And then there was my own hand in things. Mike was an awkward virgin when I'd met him, and his sexual tendencies had all been facilitated by me. I'd practically begged him for the last month to keep taking another step forward, and ending up face down in his bathtub under a stream of hot piss was where those steps had taken us.

"So, uh...how do you feel? How's your ass?"

I had to laugh at how he stumbled into that blunt questioning. It took me conscious effort to pull my eyes off his sexy, hairy arms to make proper eye contact.

"Fine. Sore. It's okay. It's okay, Mike, don't get hung up on it." I glanced at the menu while Mike looked down at me. I felt myself running away from the subject yet again, just like I had the day before. "Okay, so I want to be your hooker, but I want a boyfriend, too."

I spat out that rushed answer just before the waitress came. I hadn't really looked at the menu but I didn't care much about what I ate. The concerned tone and attention I was getting from Mike was the kind of replenishment I needed. I ordered a club sandwich and Mike had smoked meat. The waitress lingered for a moment and chatted with Mike after taking our orders. I sat in silence until she left, trying to assemble my words into the proper response that had eluded me thus far.

"So...yeah..." It was just the two of us again. I'd kicked off my shoes and was hugging my knees in my seat. Mike's big left arm rested over my head against the backing of the booth seating. "I'm not upset about yesterday. You gave me what I was asking for and then some. And even...even you...planting your flag on me...I kinda like that it was my first time with you." I planted my hand on his gargantuan thigh next to me. "Being with you has totally redefined my view of relationships...of what I expected out of them. I wanna keep going. And have more firsts together."

I stopped talking and stared down at his leg and his belly. Mike didn't respond for a moment, letting me drift off in thoughts of romance, commitment, and maybe even...what comes out of that. Mike took his time but answered me.

"So you mean, like...sex stuff?"

I smirked and huffed out a laugh. His blunt response reminded me how fluffy and girly I was being. I looked him in the eyes and took a more direct approach.

"Well...yeah. I wanna do the scary sex stuff and be your little pleasure-slut. But maybe...balance it out a bit. Think of it like this..." I adjusted my position so I was sitting cross legged, facing him directly. "Think of a yin-yang, the black and white symbol, equal opposites in harmony, completing one another...yeah? Power and intimacy are the yin-yang forces of sexuality. When I met you I was just, like...yang, yang, yang, because you were so damn powerful and masculine, and I wanted it. But now I've felt so much of your power, we're excessively yang right now."

Mike looked like he was trying to seriously contemplate my words, with a furrowed brow and gentle nod.

"I'm too yang."

"Oh yeah...like, your yang is just...woah. Huge."

He smirked. "My yang or my..."

"Both your yang and your wang are abundant." We shared a laugh with our eyebrows. "So we need some yin. Some lame relationship stuff. To cool the fire of your mighty yang." He smirked, and I relished making him chuckle.

The waitress brought our cokes, big green-tinted glasses full of ice, with red and white straws. I usually try to avoid sodas but it really seemed like a junk food night.

"Okay, so uh...what kinda yin are you talking about?"

I threw my hands up on either side of me.

"This kind. You picked me up, lookin' sexy as hell, took me to your old hangout..." I snapped my fingers. "That's perfect. Nothing fancy. Or expensive. Just some...reassurance. That's what girls want. That's why we stare at men while they're sleeping trying read their minds. We want some assurance that you still give a damn after blowing your loads."

Mike nodded big. "I see."

"So yeah. Don't get me wrong...the yang, the power..." I emphasized my appreciation with a chef's kiss. "...amazing. I'd never give it up. But...I guess I'm greedy. I wanna role play power domination fantasies but still have hipster brunch the next morning. And...I don't know, meet your parents? I think that's why I like talking to Craig and Aron. It makes me feel like I know you in a way that isn't just sexual."

Mike continued to nod along silently and leaned back into his seat.

"I know, big girl-talk." He waved it off.

"No, it's fine. It's good. I mean...I've gotten used to the fact that you're into me, I've accepted it. And you were SO into me that it was easy to just let you keep submitting to me, doing whatever I say. Easy to be...yang. Even though I figured it couldn't go on like that."

I shrugged. "Well, I have been fetishizing you intensely since we met. I thought maybe if I stepped off the gas you might lose interest."

"Yeah, I might've. Not lost interest but...thought of some excuse not to put the effort in. Chickened out. And then...I didn't know if I should change gears or not, and well...I told you about my dad and my uncle."

He had. That was how our whole 'two week challenge' had come to be. Mike's dad was the family man and his uncle was a womanizer. Ever since I'd started my charm offensive on Mike, he'd been channelling both of them to figure out how to react. So I'd offered him two weeks to take the approach of his uncle, to use me as his personal booty call and get some womanizing out of his system. We were halfway through that arbitrary time frame and every passing day had made me want the caring father over the crude uncle more and more.

"And well...I'm not gonna lie, I like Uncle Miro's way. I mean, he would usually never have the same girl around, but when he had a girl over, she would be hanging off his arm, fetching him a beer. I always thought that was unbelievable. So you being at my beck and call has been like...an absolute fantasy."

He glanced down at me for a sec, observing my reaction and interrupting his own narration.

"But I'm not saying it has to be that way. I can change. Be more like my dad..."

"You can change slowly if you like." I offered him some grease for the wheel. "It's not like I can't respect the uncle path but maybe you could spend the next week transitioning from one brother to the other. And then I could...meet daddy."

A smirk came to his lips as he looked down at me. He let his arm slide down over my shoulder and his palm cradled my opposite forearm.

"You want to meet daddy, do you?" He pulled me into him gently, urging my body to fill the crevices between his thigh, belly, and arm. I was mesmerized looking directly up at him. His eyes and smile hypnotized me while his bulky arm consumed me. I let all thoughts and ambitions of our relationship slip from my brain, and instead just sighed up into his devouring smile.

"That sounds good. If you gimme a week I can get some yang out of my system. Try a few more uncle things before then.

"Sure." I agreed without any thought, still just enjoying being cradled by this upgraded version of Mike. He smiled big at my agreement.

"Actually, maybe...maybe we need a safe word for you. That'll help when I get a little too yang."

Mike smiled down at me with an eager grin. The thought had never occurred to me but it did seem fitting.

"Okay. And what would that be?"

"I don't know. It's your word. Think about it."

The waitress arrived with our food before I could give it much thought. Mike's smoked meat sandwich was massive, with crispy onion rings on the side. My club sandwich was looking pretty good, on sourdough bread with a sliced, grilled chicken breast and all the rest. The side salad was pretty weak, which I expected out of a late night diner, but allowing myself to get fries would've been too much.

We dug in pretty quickly and let the conversation fade away. It felt fine. It felt resolved for the moment. I was barely done half my club sandwich by the time Mike had demolished his entire smoked meat. He was finishing his onion rings when I had to rest a moment and sip my coke. I loved the acidic burn on my tongue, a rare treat from my teenage days.

"You can finish the rest of that if you want." I offered Mike the remaining half.

"Oh? That's all you're eating?"

"Yeah, I'll just pick at this salad and finish my coke. I'm sure you've got room."

He smirked and gave his belly a little pat, agreeing with the sentiment. My eyes lit up at the sight while I sipped my coke. His big hand then grabbed my clubhouse and he took a massive bite. The sight of him disappearing my sandwich so easily gave me that little tingle. I enjoyed the thought of his big empty stomach being filled, packed tight, and then slowly accepting more. The other half of my club was gone within seconds.

"I think that's gonna be my safety word. Club sandwich."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah...for when you act too much like a pimp."

Mike's eyebrows perked up.

"So...you'll still be my prostitute? For the rest of the week?"

I hesitated, my last ounce of resistance dissipating.

"Till the end of the week. Then it's girlfriend mode."

"Alright...so do you wanna practice?"

I smiled. "Kay."

His left hand gave my right knee a squeeze below the table.

"So say you're my call girl and I feel like fondling you..." His fat fingers clenched into the meat of my quads and hamstrings, easily engulfing the circumference of my thigh. "And I start getting real pimpy..."

I stared down as his hairy hand began to inch up my thigh, squeezing tightly into my leg through the fabric of my sweats. Inch after inch, he grew closer to the cleavage between my thighs. With each clench he reminded me of his strength and gave me an opportunity to reject it with my safety word. Only as his knuckles began to graze my opposite thigh at the crotch, I found myself able to say it aloud.

"Okay, club sandwich. Need a club sandwich, here."

I put my palm on top of his huge hand and the tension of his grip dissolved. His left arm returned to the table as he leaned forward onto both elbows, looking back at me with a confident smirk.

"You better get some practice using that safety word...or else you'll be my hooker forever."

I nodded along at his words with my tongue stuck firmly into my cheek, making every effort to hide my interest in that very proposal. We held each other's gaze in that position until the waitress came to clear our plates.

"You two all good?"

"Yeah, all done. Hey, uh...you still make milkshakes, right? Let's get a couple of those. You want one?"

I loved the idea of prolonging that moment with a dessert round but my caloric intake had already been maxed.

"I can't. Carbs. But...you get one and I'll steal some."

Mike raised a brow in defense of his sweets. "Is that how it is?"

"Oh, big time. Ordering a salad and stealing from a man's plate...girlfriends are the worst for that." Mike nodded in revelation while the waitress made a face of her own.

"Alright then. I'll take a butterscotch.

"Sure thing." She took our plates and headed back around the counter.

The place was enough of a dive that I could tell what their cold fridges probably looked like even from where I was sitting. I imagined plastic tubs of rock solid vanilla ice cream crusted with frost in the fridge, and old expired squeeze bottles of processed chocolate, strawberry, and butterscotch syrups sitting next to it, cracked at the lid and buzzing with fruit flies. I watched the waitress' expression as she dumped the dirty plates in a busbin around the corner and rang in the shake on her POS. There was definitely a look there, but I totally understood it.

"Butterscotch, eh?"

"Yeah. I used to get them here." I had asked without turning to face him, still looking at our waitress instead.

"You know this girl?"

"Oh...yeah, Jennifer, I think. She's been here for a bit so I've seen her a couple times."

I looked back to him with a smirk.

"She likes you." Mike raised a brow but stalled in any response. "She's jealous of me right now."

"No..." He was slow to respond. "She's never said anything like that."

I leaned into the table with my elbow and hid my face on one side of my clasped hands so only Mike could hear me.

"Yeah, but you wouldn't have noticed regardless of how much she flirted. Because girls do that. We smile and we wait. But now you've changed. Had you ever come in here with a girl before me?"

"No."

"Yeah, see, I'll bet she's been seeing you come in alone for however long, thinking you were kinda cute but never saying anything. And now here you are with a girl, nicely dressed. That's why she's been staring at us all night, wishing she'd said something earlier, regretting not asking you out."

Mike smirked but didn't seem convinced.

"Look at her, Mike. Look at the frustration on her face while she has to make your milkshake." Mike's eyes darted up beyond me to see the waitress digging away into the firm vanilla ice cream. "She wishes she was the one sharing a shake with you, getting squeezed by your big arm. And she's pissed. I'd bet money."

Mike smiled a bit more, somewhat convinced by my spot-on analysis. I liked seeing him smile, seeing the confidence he displayed to me in private slowly seep out into his public life. It was only a shred, but I knew I could make it bubble up to the surface.

"Okay...so...why are you telling me that? Do you not want me to talk to her or something? When we're boyfriend-girlfriend?"