Janelle was big in so many ways. Real tall, nearly six foot. Big, blonde hair. Big tits. She wore big boots and had a big laugh and an even bigger personality. I met her at a party. I couldn’t help but hear her laughing at some joke clear across the room. The laugh was loud and open. It was really quite captivating. You couldn’t help but want to know a woman who laughed like that. And when you looked at her, you couldn’t help but wonder what other kind of big sounds she might make. Perhaps in bed.

I found the nerve (after four tequilas) to introduce myself. I was Beth. She was Janelle. I wondered how her breasts would feel in my hands. Glad we got that out of the way. Okay, so I didn’t really say that to her, but I wanted to. I did the normal non-stupid thing.

“Hi there, I’m Beth.”

“Well, hiiiiii, Beth. I am Janelle and you can buy me a drink, blue eyes,” she said. She dragged hi out like a Southern belle but I knew for a fact she was local. And my eyes were green. But my insides went soft and warm and glowy when she smiled at me and I scurried off to the Tiki bar our host had set up. I had forgotten to ask what she was drinking.

The bartender, reading the fear on my face, said, “Who’s it for?” Then he leaned in and grinned. He was staring pointedly at my cleavage as if I would flash him as an encouragement.

"Tall blonde in the short black dress with--”

“The tall blond hair and the smoking black boots,” he said, nodding and tipping various bottles over a tall curved glass. “Here ya go, gorgeous. Too bad you like girls. I had high hopes for me and you.”
“How’d you know I--”

“The only people buying that Chiquita her drinks are suitors. And that is a one of a kind woman drinking a very unusual drink. At least for this kind of party.”

“What is it?” I asked and stared at the concoction.

“An Alabama Slammer,” he said. “And baby, I’m shocked that she’s still standing.”

Hmm. Maybe I had a chance of wooing…or rolling her into my bed. “Thanks. I owe you one,” I said, dropping a five into his tip jar.

He eyed my cleavage again and grinned. “If only. Whew. Mamacita, good luck with her. Watch out, I bet she leaves broken bodies in her wake.”

I turned and looked at Janelle. Her head was thrown back and she laughed long and loud into the night air. The guy next to her was grinning as if he’d just won the Lottery. But when her big blue eyes found mine across the party, she gave me a little finger waggle and then licked her lips.

Yeah. I had high hopes. They were possibly due to all the tequila but a girl could hope.

*****

“I cannot believe how short you are,” Janelle was saying as she flounced into my living room. I dropped my keys into the bowl by the front door.

“The four inch heels on your boots may have something to do with it,” I laughed.

Janelle stared down at her feet as if she had never seen those boots before. She lifted one heel and examined it, before doing the other. “Hmm. Maybe.” She unzipped one of the boots and pulled it off. Then standing tipped to the left she regarded me. “Can’t tell,” she muttered. Then she snorted. And that made her giggle. She was snookered. I couldn’t help but smile. The other boot came off and there she stood. Short black dress, long bare legs, fucked up wind-blown hair. “Nope. You’re short.”

“Gee thanks,” I said and I tried to sound hurt but I couldn’t. She was rolling toward me like a big blonde wave. Hips rolling in a sultry swagger that would have seemed too overblown on any other woman. On Janelle it looked perfect. She was a force to be reckoned with.

She leaned in, her breath sweet with Amaretto and Sloe Gin. “Kiss me, Beth. Is that short for Bethany?” she said but I ignored her and pushed my lips against her plump pink mouth. She tasted like sin and sunshine.