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by Raven Willow-Wood
Description: Jody and Berny are grateful, they really are, that they have the opportunity to spend two fun-filled months at the remote health club/island where they can find their inner beauty. But it's damned hard work dropping those unwanted pounds! They'd imagined food. They'd dreamed of food! They hadn't expected to start hallucinating about aliens, though. And they certainly hadn't expected to be 'rescued' from their expensive vacation by two hunky aliens that were laboring under the wrongful conclusion that they were being tortured. Rating: Contains graphic sex, graphic language, and adult situations.
eBook Publisher: New Concepts Publishing, 2007
eBookwise Release Date: February 2007
117 Reader Ratings:
Available eBook Formats: OEBFF Format (IMP) [97 KB]
Reading time: 57-80 min.
"Damn, it sure is hot!" Jody said, wiping furiously at the seemingly never-ending streams of sweat that poured profusely from her untidy upswept ponytail. The unforgiving July sun beat down on Jody and Berny relentlessly, as if it, too, were on the payroll of the island health retreat, just part of the torture package that only women desperately searching for beauty would seek out and pay for. The two women, who at first glance appeared to be sisters, sat rather dejectedly on a barely-big-enough-for-your-ass wooden bench beneath a small oak tree that provided only the illusion of shade, its young, frail limbs as thin as the bodies of the health instructors.
Like raisins drying in the sun, Jody's and Berny's long overworked bodies were almost completely drained of all energy. Their hair color, now slightly matted with hard-earned sweat, was very similar, but still two different shades of brown, Jody's a deep chestnut and Berny's a dark auburn. They were also of comparable size, each standing around 5'6", weight, an amount that they would never divulge, and both had an unfashionably voluptuous body, not overweight but not the wildly popular waif look that everyone was striving for these days. The real difference between the two twenty-six year old women, whose mothers had also been childhood friends, lay in their personalities. Jody, the older by a few weeks, was the stronger-willed, more sensible of the two, while Bernice, 'Berny', was the romantic, impulsive, carefree risk-taker.
"If my spandex bike shorts creep any further up my ass, they're going to be flossing my teeth," Jody complained loudly, yanking angrily at the bottom hem of her shorts, her brow furrowing in her consternation. Her mouth turned slightly downward, which brought her dimples into play, belying her irritation. Removing her shorts from inappropriate places wasn't just becoming a habit since she had arrived on the island, it was the next thing to moronic, doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results, as if this time the shorts would somehow magically stay in place. She sighed, thinking that it was painfully obvious that exercise clothes were not made for people who needed to get in shape but for those who were already in shape.
"I know what you mean, this brand should be called Cookie Cutter because it feels like it's cutting out shapes. Unfortunately, not tasty ones," Berny said with distaste, her gaze roaming over her tightly constricted bulges, her displeasure evident at the sight her expensive workout clothes created.
"Don't talk about food, Berny, especially not cookies. What I wouldn't give for a bar of cookie dough, straight out of the fridge, or a pint of mint chocolate chip ice cream, or even better yet, freshly baked glazed doughnuts covered in chocolate and sprinkles," Jody said, staring off into space with a dreamy smile as she absentmindedly brushed some stray chestnut hairs out of her eyes that had escaped her haphazard hairdo.
"I'd rather have a huge plate of spaghetti with three croissants, light and flaky, dripping butter," Berny said enthusiastically, bouncing on the bench and clapping her hands excitedly at the thought of real food, her already rosy cheeks becoming more flushed with the images. "No, not croissants. Some thick garlic bread covered with butter and a side of sauce for dipping."
"If you could have anything, you'd want spaghetti? What about Cajun-fried chicken? I miss that spicy, crunchy chicken skin more than I miss my car," Jody whined, and then paused, thinking about all the walking she had done since she had first checked in to the island resort. "Well ... almost," she said, laughing a little out loud.
"Oh, I know! This damn low-carb diet is killing me. Of course, it's running fast competition with this hellhole we stuck ourselves on for two months. Who the hell would name an island that tortures women thin Paradise Island anyway?" Berny grumbled, an irritated scowl contorting her usually sunny face.
Jody looked at her friend's expression and laughed. "I'm sure it was a man."
"What's terrible about that is that you're probably right," Berny said, now smiling at the irony of it all.
"Alright. Let's get a move on. If we don't hurry up, we'll be late for our kickboxing class. I wouldn't put it past them to send out a search party. It probably wouldn't be the first time they've had to go looking for people. Wouldn't it be sad if they found us laying in the sand somewhere, our over-exercised, starved bodies motionless, hands outstretched toward the water and freedom, a farewell cruel world note drawn in the sand."
The women laughed so hard together at the images this last statement brought to mind that they had more than a little difficulty rising. A sort of giggly haze, probably the direct result of the harsh tropical sun and the depletion of their reserve body fat, numbed their limbs and brains. Grudgingly, and with more than a little groaning, they resumed their trek through the woods.