The Harem on the Hill (Part LXXX) (Patreon)

The park in town is beautiful.  It's lush and green and looks more like a set piece from one of those idyllic small-town dramas Veronica Tate used to watch (Gilmore Girls was her favorite) than it does the pot and poop-smelling concrete jungle gyms you played in as a kid.  And while it can't quite compare with your estate's custom courtyard, you feel the same sense of serenity sitting on the knoll overlooking its expanse that you do on your gazebo's porch swing.

On the weekends, the park is filled with dog walkers, picnickers, and kids flying kites and flinging frisbees, but not at 10 AM on a Tuesday.  Only five people are presently within eyeshot.  Two seniors playing chess so silently and still you were concerned for their well-being until one yawned and the other moved their pawn; a middle-aged woman walking a yappy Yorkie; and a lanky brunette in a ballcap jogging around the park's perimeter who, every few minutes, blocks your view of the fifth occupant--a chubby blonde napping on a blanket in the center of the grassy plain.

Jada Jenson.  The person you're there to observe.

Jada is a twenty-eight-year-old social service worker who made your original list of harem candidates as a twenty-five-year-old.   Most of those girls had married or moved on, but not Jada.  She was still living alone and working remotely.  The only thing that had changed was her figure, which was a good fifty pounds heavier than the top-heavy hottie pictured in the pages of your spiral-bound bible.  The reason you eliminated her from consideration back then was that she was socially active and dated frequently, but that's not the case anymore.  Since you've resumed watching her, she's rarely left her apartment, and when she has it's usually for fast food or to stock up on sundry snacks at the supermarket.  Her only "date" was an appointment at the dentist that, by its length and the unnatural droop of her pretty face at its end, evidenced her propensity for junk food was taking a toll on more than just her figure.  It was also obvious that, as Jada approached thirty and her body expanded to match her titanic tits, fewer men were taking notice.

With one notable exception, of course.

The hypnotizing swell of Jada's chest as she snores beneath a magazine teepeed across her face holds your attention for a while, but eventually, your eyes wander to the park's other participants.  The old men are still locked in their epic duel while the lady with the Yorkie has, thankfully, moved far enough away that her cur's yaps don't disturb you.  Conversely, the sinewy jogger gets closer with each pass, and with every pass, her eyes linger longer.  When yours meet hers, she stops.

"Hey, are you that guy?"

"I've been called worse."

"Sorry," she huffs, resting her hands on her knees.  "I heard you lived around here.  I just never thought I'd actually meet you."

"Why not?"

"I don't know.  I didn't think we'd run in the same circles."

"If these are the circles you normally run in, then no."

"Not a jogger?"

"No."

The brunette's dark eyes dart up and down.  "Then how do you stay in shape?"  She pauses slightly before saying "shape," as if dismissing intended words at the last second.

"I have a gym in my home."

"That figures."  The twenty-something adjusts her cap and smiles.  Her pearly whites nicely contrast her tan skin.  "You probably have a bowling alley in your basement."

"No."  You stare off into the trees.  "Not a bowling alley."

"I'm sorry.  That was rude."

"The only thing rude was you mistaking me for a bowler."

"Ha!  Did I say, bowling alley?  I meant shooting gallery."  She cocks her head.  "Closer?"

"Closer."

The ravishing runner's long legs begin to churn.  "Well, I'd better get back to it."

"You're not finished?"

"I really shouldn't be," she says, patting her abdomen.  "I need to work off some winter weight."

That's when you notice the poof of flesh muffining over the front of her running shorts.  Had she not called attention to it you probably wouldn't have seen it, but now you struggle not to stare.  Especially since, despite her stated intent, she continues to run in place like an idling vehicle waiting for a driver.

What do you do?