It was a beautiful sunny afternoon in the bucolic town of River Heights. The birds were singing. The brooks were babbling. The shifty-eyed criminals were plotting diamond heists in their dank lairs. And Bess Marvin and George Fayne were having lunch at that cute little bistro on the corner of Fifth and McIntosh.
Tall, dark-haired, and athletic, George was dressed for the weather in a tank top and jogging shorts. Even with her slim frame coddled by the rich red leather of the Kitty Corner's booths, she looked alert and energized, ready to hop up and break into a sprint at any moment.
"I guess I'll have a fruit cup -- ooh, and these salads look good," George said, looking over the menu.
"They do!" Bess agreed enthusiastically. "Maybe I'll have one with my cheeseburger!"
"Oh, Bess," George chided, "really? A cheeseburger?"
"Well, why not?" Bess answered stiffly.
"You've put on quite enough weight this summer already, cousin o' mine."
Bess blushed. Okay, so she was a little on the plump side. Maybe more than just a little. But so what if her designer jeans were getting tight and her favorite shiny blue T-shirt was starting to fray at the seams from the effort of holding her in? As long as you could get manage to squeeze yourself into a size ten, you were a size ten, darn it!
"It's only scientific," Bess explained. "If you fill yourself up at lunch, then you won't have to urge to snack all day."
"No science could come between you and a snack," George scoffed.
"Just you watch, unbeliever! I bet I barely even touch my dinner tonight!"
"On pizza night? I'll eat my hat if you're not licking the crumbs off of that platter, as usual."
"Well then, I hope you like the taste of hat."
"I hope so too," George grinned, "because it's probably the only thing that'll be left for me."
"Oh, you're impossible!" Bess crossed her arms over her chest. "I will get a cheeseburger if I want, and that's that!"
"No one's stopping you."
"Only -- uh -- won't you get one too?"
"Nope. I'm eating healthy. You know, cuz, some of us enjoy seeing our feet once in a while."
"Pleeease?" Bess begged. "Look at that waiter -- he's a complete dream! And he doesn't know about scientific diets and things, so he'll think I'm ... I'm..."
George raised one dark eyebrow. "An oinker?"
"Hey! But yes."
"Fine," Bess's cousin sighed. "But it's your treat."
"Are you lovely ladies ready to order?" asked the complete dream, who had sauntered up to the table with a smoldering look on his face and a pad of paper in his hand.
Bess smiled and fluttered her eyelashes at him. "We'll have the double cheeseburger baskets."
"And a fruit cup, and salad," George added.
"I'll take a salad, too! With extra dressing. Extra light dressing. And an extra side of fries." Bess looked away. "Um, you know... so the light dressing won't go to waste."
"Would you two like some... milkshakes with those fries?" purred the waiter seductively.
"Ooh, yes, please," Bess cooed before George could say anything.
"Wonderful! Then I'll make sure you get a little extra ice cream -- if you think you can handle it, that is."
Bess adjusted her shirt, wondering if the steam drifting out of her collar was just her imagination. He was just so taut and swarthy and scrumptious. "We sure can!"
When their food came, Bess practically inhaled hers. The burger was delicious -- thick and cheesy, piled high with vegetables and dripping with grease. The fries were hot and crispy and there were plenty of them, and the salad was bursting with zesty flavor. She was almost two-thirds finished when she noticed that, aside from her fruit and salad, her cousin had only eaten a few fries.
"George! Why aren't you eating?"
"I did eat."
"But why aren't you eating your cheeseburger?"
"Huh? I didn't want to eat it. I said you could order it, if it made you feel better."
"But it's pointless if you don't eat it!" Bess hissed, looking over her shoulder to make sure the waiter was occupied at another table. "How exactly does it help me look like less of a glutton if I'm cleaning my plate and you're sitting there picking away like a bird?"
"If you don't want people to think you're a glutton, maybe you should start by not stuffing half a pound of cheesy beef into your face in a public place, hmm? Bess? Uh, Bess, what are you doing?"
Bess had leaned over the table, grabbed George's hamburger, and taken an enormous bite.
"Mine too? Really?"
"Wllmph mm pammph for iff, dimmt I?" Bess swallowed. "And if you're not going to make your meal looked lived in..."
Defiantly, she stuffed a handful of George's fries into her mouth and chewed furiously. She'd managed to put a serious dent in her cousin's meal by the time the waiter returned.
"Everything okay here?"
"Mm-hhmm!" Bess nodded cheerfully, cheeks bulging with food. She hoped he hadn't noticed her quickly taking her hands off the remains of George's burger.
"Are we going to need some boxes for that today?"
George laughed. "Boy, do you not know Bess."
Bess shot her a poisonous look. As soon as the waiter was gone, she snapped, "I might have needed a box, you know."
"You haven't left a meal unfinished since you were old enough to feed yourself. What you'll need is a shoehorn to get you out of this booth."
"I will not!"
"Whatever, I've got to get going. Here's a fiver for my share, okay? And another couple of bucks for the tip." George dropped a few crumpled bills on the table and stood up. "Just stop before you go into another food coma, okay?"
Bess snorted. What kind of pig did George think she was, anyway? Making sure the coast was clear first, she emptied the rest of her cousin's food onto her plate. No sense letting it go to waste -- and this way, it looked like George was the one who'd gobbled her food down and run.
"Did we save room for dessert today?"
It was the hunky waiter again. Bess gave him an apologetic look. "Sorry -- I don't think so."
"Are you sure? The apple pie is delicious today."
"I'd -- I'd really better not -- " the plump girl said. She shifted position, trying to sit so that he couldn't see her stomach. She was sure had a bulge in it the size of two big, greasy dinners. Finishing the second milkshake had probably been a mistake.
"It's fresh out of the oven." He looked at her with puppy-dog eyes. "We can give you a sample slice, if you'd like."
"Well, maybe... maybe just one teeny tiny little slice."
Three slices of pie later, Bess waddled out of the Kitty Corner. She felt decidedly taken advantage of after catching Hunky McSexerson making an identical set of puppy eyes at the girl one booth over.
That rotten tease was never interested in me at all, she fumed. He just wanted to move more pie! She was glad that after paying the bill she'd only had twenty-two cents left over for the tip.
Leaving the restaurant, she headed --
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