"Babe they didn't mean it, I'm sure. And...it's okay. It doesn't matter what they said, you know it's not true."
"They *did* mean it, and it *is* true!" my girlfriend Liv huffs between sobs, looking distraught in the backseat of the taxi beside me. "You don't know, you don't understand...they meant it, all of it."
She starts to cry again and fuck I feel terrible. I hate when she's upset; she's usually so bubbly and vivacious, normally it's her cheering *me* up, and not the other way around.
But I could tell something was wrong when we went to visit her aunties, even if they were speaking Mandarin most of the time. The more the older ladies said to her the further Liv's face fell, and by the end of our hour-long visit I sensed there were gonna be tears in the cab.
"They couldn't stop talking about how *fat* I am!" she exclaims, slumping against the window and fidgeting with her long dark hair, looking disconsolately out at the busy, rain-soaked streets of Taipei. "And how my parents spoiled us by moving to America, and how we have it sooo good, and how we should've brought them more stupid presents! And they kept saying how you're soo tall and handsome, and how did I ever get a white American boyfriend? And how did I get so tan? And how I'd better get skinnier if I want to keep you, and...and it was just...ugh! They're the worst! Why did we even go!"
"Well...they've got good taste at least," I smile, hoping to lighten the mood. It doesn't quite work; all I manage to do is catch a teary-eyed glare, encouraging me to quickly switch strategies.
"Babe, come on though. They're just a bunch of old ladies, they don't know anything. You don't have to care what they think. And it's not true at all what they said, you know?"
It's really not. My Liv is so beautiful, I love her so much. Yeah she's a bit bigger boned than some other Taiwanese girls, but so what? It's not like she's overweight or anything, it's just her body type; she's just a little curvy, and honestly, I'm all for it.
She's always been self-conscious about her figure, she works out and tries to eat right but some people just have that shape. She's short and shapely and just the right kind of thick, and I really do love her for it. The way she fits in my arms is just perfect, I wouldn't change a damn thing about her.
It's tough to get her to see that, though. Especially when her family can be so judgmental.
"Let's just...stay in for the afternoon. At the hotel," she sighs against the glass. "It's too rainy to go to the beach now, anyway..."
I nod, not sure what else I can do. Our trip to Taiwan had been going great up til this point: we'd been to the beaches, we'd gone hiking in the mountains, we'd had some fun nights out with Liv's cousins.
But the sudden downpour and a bout of nitpicking from her aunties had certainly put a damper on things, and as we pull up to the hotel I'm still not sure how I'm gonna handle this. We'd been looking forward to this vacation for months, and I'll be damned if I'm gonna let a couple of catty old ladies ruin it for us.
We get back to the room and Liv heads straight to bed, turning on the TV and moping under the blankets. Her gift is still sitting on the table, untouched: a sexy black and gold bikini I'd bought her for the beach today.
I'm just dying to see her in it and she'd been excited to wear it, too, but I can't really imagine that happening now. Not with her self esteem in the dumps.
No beach, no bikini. Bummer.
I leave her to cool off for a bit and head out for a walk. It's still raining pretty hard, so there's not much else to do but pace the hotel halls, which inevitably leads me down to the fancy foyer, which invariably leads me over to the bar. It's the middle of the day, so I just get a gin and tonic to sip on as I think.
My Liv is usually so confident; typically she doesn't let the things other people say get to her. I guess it just hits different when it's coming from family, though.
Still, I can only really remember this happening once before. We'd been visiting relatives that time, too; we were in Houston a year ago, and she'd been feeling down over some rude shit her cousin had said. But we'd still been able to go out afterwards, and it ended up being a good night. We got pretty drunk, actually, and later when we went back to our room, that was the first time we--
I almost choke on my gin, a thrill running through me as I recall the later events of that evening.
Shit. I'd almost forgotten about that.
What a night.
All of a sudden I'm feeling a little heated...and just like that, I have an idea.
When I get back to the room Liv is just as I left her, a lump under the covers listlessly watching some Australian travel show. Without saying anything I crawl into bed beside her, settling in.
"Good show?" I ask after a moment.
"Mmm."
"Learn anything?"
"Mm."
I wrap my arms around her and give a little squeeze.
"You know...you can't let what they say get to you, right?"
"...mm."
"I mean...when was the last time you saw them, like fifteen years ago? What do they know about you? Like nothing, right? So why should their stupid opinions matter, huh?"
"Mm."
She's pouting, playing at being stubborn. I smile, unperturbed -- she's cute when she's mad.
"You know, I've got opinions too," I say, planting a kiss on the nape of her neck. "And I say you're the sexiest girl I ever met, that you're damn perfect, that you don't need to worry at all about things like that."
"Oh come on," she scoffs.
"I mean it."
"You're just saying that."
"I'm saying it cause it's true."
"It's not."
"It is. *Olivia*."
Her breath catches; her body tenses up. She freezes in a near-Pavlovian response as I nip her, as I growl her full name against her soft tan skin.
It's a name most people don't know; it's a name no one uses, not even me...except for one, very specific set of circumstances.
"Eric, wha--"
She cuts off in a high pitched whine as I gather up her long beautiful dark hair and give a tug, craning her backwards against me, my other arm holding her tight as I growl again, low and rough.
"I said you're fucking beautiful. *Olivia*. I said you're perfect; I said you don't need to worry. Do you think I'm wrong? Do you think I don't know what I'm talking about? Huh?"
She shivers, goosebumps breaking out across her skin. Seeing the way she reacts just gets me going even hotter, and I nip her again.
"E-Eric...wha, what are you--"
"I need you to know, baby," I say in a heated simmer. "I need you to know how crazy I am about you. How you make me feel. How you make me a wild man, and how no one else's shitty opinion is gonna change that."
She lets out a yelp as I suddenly cast the covers aside, as I pull her against me more forcefully, my grip settling around her throat as her pulse flutters wildly against my palm.
"Oh shit, Eric," she gasps, shuddering as I pull up the hem of her dress.
"You're so fucking pretty, baby...you're *so* fucking pretty."
She's wet through her panties already -- once I start calling her by that name, she knows what's coming next.
Just like that night in Houston.
She squirms, whimpering softly as I stroke her, as I grind against her, a sensual heat building between us. Her breaths are ragged and deep, her light brown skin starting to flush.
"Eric..."
I nuzzle her, drunk on her scent. Her soft warm flesh is heaven in my hands, and before I realize what I'm doing my fingers are diving beneath her waistband, taking a full grip of her smooth wet cunt and squeezing it in my strong grip.
"Oh shit, oh shit Eric, oh shit..."
"Are you pretty, baby? Are you pretty, huh? Tell me."
