I had a request from one of my angels to write a story about a larger female lead💕so I've given it a go.

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Colette's POV.

'Give her a hand, ladies and gents!' The MC shouts into the microphone. 'That was Curvy Colette, our local country singer and resident bartender!'

The crowd claps and cheers as I take a small bow and make my way to the stage steps with a grin on my face.

Dressed in a plaid shirt tied in a knot at the front and light washed jeans, I'm one cowboy hat away from looking like a real country girl.

I bustle through the crowd and get to the bar. Jerry lifts up the bar top just long enough for me to squeeze behind the bar and then it slams down behind me. It comes down at exactly the right time, stopping a hand from slapping my big ass.

Chunky but funky, as my mama likes to say.

I get to work straight away. I take ten minutes off to sing a couple songs and everything goes to shit without me.

'What do you want, honey?' I ask without looking up as I grab a glass.

'You would be nice.'

The sleazy drawl makes it hard to keep the grimace off of my face. I look up at the sleazeball leaning over the bar and narrow my eyes.

'Pick something on the menu,' I reply firmly.

He looks me up and down, his eyes staying locked on my cleavage for far too long. I can't really blame him, my breasts aren't exactly small and they look great in this push-up bra.

'Fine, I'll have a rum and coke.'

I serve the sleazeball and then about a million other people. The bar is rammed tonight. It's only Thursday, but it's open-mic night and everyone wants a shot at the prize; free drinks on Saturday.

The sleazeball remains seated at the end of the bar, watching me work. I can feel his eyes on my big ass, but I ignore him.

I look around when I feel a new pair of eyes on me. A man is stood near the bar, his hands in his front pockets. He has dark eyes and a smile that could make anyone melt.

He catches my eye and his smile widens. He steps towards the bar and rests his elbows on it.

'What can I get you?' I ask him, enjoying the excuse to get closer to him.

With him leant over the bar like this, I can smell his cologne. It's fuck-me cologne. Combined with his sexy smile and dark eyes, breathing it in makes me wet in an instant.

I see a lot of guys in this bar. Like, a lot.

I can't remember the last time I found one of them attractive. Good-looking, maybe, but I wasn't attracted to them. Mainly because most of the patrons at this bar are hammered or have no idea how to spell feminism, let alone what it means.

But this guy...he's something else. He's not from round here, for sure. He's a whole serving of sexy that our shitty town of Newbridge can't create.

'I take it you're not on offer?' He asks, but he says it in a jokey, sweet way.

It's all about the tone of voice and the way they look at you.

This man is looking at me with appreciation, he's not leering and he's not trying to make me feel uncomfortable.

'I'm afraid not, sweetheart,' I respond warmly.

He gives me a lop-sided smile. 'Damn, can't blame a man for trying. What whiskeys do you have, please?'

I help the customer choose a malt and I get him his drink. He stays at the bar, sorting out his emails on his phone.

Not that I'm looking.

The crowd starts to die down a bit. The winner is announced and people leave after that. We close at midnight on Thursdays and it's pushing on for eleven.

With the bar being quieter, I'm tempted to talk to the out-of-towner. I start emptying glasses from the dishwasher and lining them on the drying rack.

'Are you just passing through?' I ask him, drawing his attention up from his phone.

He frowns for a moment and then smiles. 'That obvious that I'm new, huh?'

I smile and shrug. 'You get to know people by working in a bar. I've never seen you before.'

He grins. 'I'm new here, moved two days ago.'

'Welcome to the neighbourhood,' I reply genially.

Jerry heads in the back office, leaving me alone with the newbie. The sleazeball is still with two friends at the end of the bar and there's a couple more patrons, but it's quiet enough for us to talk.

He tells me about his new job here and where he's moved from. I learn that his name is Michael, but most people call him Mickey.

I introduce myself and he asks about my job here. In no time at all, it hits midnight and we take the last call.

Michael and the sleazeballs leave and I spot them all making their way across the road. There's another bar opposite us, but luckily, the owner is close friends with Jerry.

We have an understanding, we close earlier than them and they open later. That way, we don't fight for patrons too much.

I help Jerry clean up and lock up. I pull my handbag tighter over my shoulder and walk across the road towards the car park that I use as a short-cut for my route home.

'Hey, gorgeous!' I ignore the sleazeball shouting after me.

Footsteps hit the pavement and I grimace internally.

Not tonight, please.

'Hey! Why are you being so rude? I know you can here me!'

Everyone can hear you. You're yelling your head off.

I bite my lip and walk faster. I pull my house keys out of my handbag and grip them tightly. The footsteps become louder and nearer and suddenly, he's jumping in front of me.

'Hey.' He grins, clueless to how uninterested I am. 'I wanted to ask if you wanna join me and my mates for a drink.'

I force a smile. 'No, thanks. I want to go home.'

The smile drops from his face and he scowls.

'Frigid bitch,' he mutters and bumps past me.

Don't say anything, Colette.

I ignore him, like an adult, and listen to him walk away. My heart sinks when his footsteps stop.

'Hey, heifer!' I freeze as I hear the insult. 'How about you lose some weight and then, maybe, we'll have that drink, yeah?'

Insecure men. Why are they like this sometimes?

When they can't handle a rejection -no matter how polite- they feel the need to insult the woman to feel better.

I turn around to give the sleazeball a piece of my mind. I want to tell him that I'm confident in myself and my size. I want to shout that he obviously isn't if he feels the need to lash out at a simple rejection.

Someone beats me to it.

'Oi.'

Both the sleazeball and I look at Michael, who is stood a few feet away.

'Apologise to Colette,' he orders calmly.

The sleazeball looks between the two of us and scoffs.

'What are you? Her boyfriend or something?'

'It doesn't matter if I am or am not. You need to apologise to her,' he says firmly.

The sleazeball snorts again. 'Fat chance. Haha, get it?'

Michael strides over to the sleazeball and decks him with one smooth punch. The sleazeball groans and drops to his knees.

'You asked for that,' he comments.

He shakes out his hand and then puts them in his jacket pockets. He strolls over to me, where I'm stood frozen, watching the sleazeball on the ground. He's whining and cradling his nose.

'Are you okay?' He asks gently.

I nod and look at him, my eyes wide. 'You hit him.'

He gives a light laugh and nods. 'Yeah. Probably not my best idea, but he was being rude...'

'Thank you, for doing that.' I laugh nervously. 'You really didn't have to, but it was entertaining.'

Michael smiles. 'Did it make you feel better?'

'Yes,' I reply with a laugh. 'Thanks.'

The sleazeball staggers to his feet and starts yelling abuse. Michael ignores him and starts walking down the alley.

I don't want to be anywhere near that sleaze, so I turn on my heel and follow Michael.

'Are you walking this way?' He asks me over his shoulder.

'Yeah.'

As far as alleys go, this one is pretty safe. Surrounded on both sides by houses and completely illuminated, it's not somewhere I feel nervous usually. I keep my keys in my hands in my pocket, just in case.

Michael seems like a good guy, but you can't be too careful nowadays.

'How's your hand?' I ask him when we get onto the main road.

'Not too bad. Used to fight in school, so it's nothing new. I know how to punch with minimal pain on my part and maximum pain on the opponent,' he says with a grimace. 'That asshole really deserved that hit. I'm sorry he said those awful things to you.'

I shrug it off.

'Nothing new,' I use his words. 'I let it wash over me.'

'Good, because you're beautiful.'

He says the words casually and simply, like they're the truest thing he's ever said. It makes my heart flutter.

'Whereabouts do you live?' Michael asks. 'In a non-creepy way, sorry. Just cause I don't really want you walking on your own. I moved into a house on Greene street.'

I remember seeing that one for sale a month ago. 'I live on Burton Street.'

Michael frowns. 'That's close, isn't it?'

I bite my bottom lip nervously.

Very close. They're next to each other.

'Yeah,' I reply cautiously.

'Let me walk you home then, please? I can leave you at the start of the street if you don't want me knowing which house is yours.'

I cave and we walk the final ten minutes together, talking again. He takes out his phone and shows me pictures of him with his family. He has a seven-year-old daughter that he had when he was twenty. She's currently staying with his ex-girlfriend, but he gets her every other weekend and alternate weekdays.

She's a cutie and has Michael's dark eyes. He and his girlfriend have been broken up for four years and he is very much single. I'm pleased to hear that.

By the time we get to my street, I've decided that Michael has been sent from Heaven to treat me.

He walks me to my door and steps back, his hands in his pockets.

'I was wondering, Colette...' he trails off hesitantly. 'I hope this isn't too forward, but, could I take you out on Saturday? I've loved getting to know you tonight and I'd like to know more.'

I can't keep the smile off of my face. 'Yes, I'd like that.'

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Michael and I exchanged numbers and we text over the next two days. On Saturday night, he picks me up from my house and takes me out.

We have a great date. We talk and laugh and, when he drops me home again, I realise that I don't want it to end.

I invite him in for a drink, but we both know what I really mean. I practically pounce on him as soon as the door closes.

I grab the back of his neck and pull him down to kiss me. Michael lets me take control for all of one minute before pinning me against my wall. He grabs my hands and holds them with one of his above my head.

His other hand explores my body, caressing every curve until I'm writhing between him and the wall.

I break the kiss and manage to gasp the words 'Bedroom, now.'

We kick off our shoes and rush upstairs. I burst into my bedroom and throw all the shit that is lying on my bed, onto the floor.

Why did I not clean up this morning?

I turn to Michael but he doesn't seem to care about the small bomb that apparently went off in my room. He's too busy looking at me with heated eyes.

He kisses me again, his hands going to the zipper on the back of my dress. For a second, doubt and insecurities fill my mind.

What if he doesn't find me attractive?

What if he doesn't like my body?

I have stretch-marks. I have rolls. I have an hourglass figure...I just contain a bit more sand than the usual one.

I love my body, but it can sometimes be hard to show it to someone new without any doubt. Insecurities sneak in when you least want or expect them.

Michael pulls back and helps me out of my dress. I wore a tight dress on purpose. It shows him exactly what he's to expect. It doesn't hide my thick body in any way.

I stand in front of him in my favourite underwear set and put my hands on my hips.

Silently, I remind myself that I love my body. Mine is the only opinion that matters. I will not let it get to me if he wants to leave.

'You're fucking gorgeous, Colette,' he murmurs, his eyes raking up and down my body appreciatively.

Relief floods through me.

'Thanks,' I reply shyly.

I help Michael out of his shirt and jeans.

Dear Lord, this man is ripped.

I drop to my knees in front of him and pull down his boxers. Michael curses and grabs one of my bed posts to support himself when I grasp his cock. I wrap my plump lips around the head and meet his eyes as I suck him into my mouth.

'Fuck, Colette,' he groans. 'You're so good at this.'

I suck him until he almost comes. He pulls himself from my mouth with a pop and ushers me onto the bed. He leans over me and strips me of my underwear.

His lips latch onto one of my nipples, sucking it into his hot mouth. He squeezes and massages my breasts with his large hands. His hands are big, but they're not big enough to fully grab my chest.

He kisses down my body and gets between my legs. He shoulders my thick thighs apart and I spread them wide for him. His tongue darts out and tastes me. He moans and takes another lick, sending a shiver through me.

I grip the bedsheets in my hands as he begins fucking me with his tongue. He pushes it in and out of me, licking up every drop that I give him. He hums with approval against my pussy and licks me until I'm screaming.

He's sitting between my legs in an instant, lining his cock up with my entrance. I gasp as he enters me in one thrust.

I squeeze his arms as he begins to pound into me. We're both feeling the same desperation, the need to be connected like this.

I rock my hips against his, lifting mine to meet his every thrust. It takes mere moments for me to climax again. I clench around him and cry out his name.

At the back of my mind, I decide that I can't let him go. This man is too perfect in all ways.

Michael seems to have similar thoughts, because he holds me tightly to his chest. He doesn't slow his pace, not once. I clamp my pussy down around him, trying to help him reach his climax.

It works. He comes hard, groaning my name and pressing his forehead to mine.

We lay in a sweaty heap on my bed, panting and mumbling sweet things to one another.

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