The Breast Man
This guy was the king of innuendo. It seemed that every sentence led to his zipper. I guess that I had been so focused on changing the direction of the conversation that it took me a while to notice that his eyes were transfixed on my breasts. I wondered, What should I do now? Should I cross my arms? Should I pretend it wasn’t happening? Or should I politely ask him to stop.
“Just what the hell are you looking at?” I startled him.
He knew that he had been caught. It was entertaining to watch him try to regain his composure and search for the words to explain. This was going to be good.
He actually said that he was “jealous” of my blouse. My blouse? A silk button down number. He had to be kidding. Up until that moment, I thought that he was somewhat “smooth .”
“What do you mean, ‘you’re jealous of my blouse’?”
Then he did it. He went for the innuendo. He went for the extra credit. He said that he was envious because my blouse was lying against my breasts and that was where he wanted to be.
Oh brother! In the Excuse Olympics, his performance rated a flimsy 2.5 for delivery, but a 4.5 for creativity; thus, having a combined score far below an acceptable level for advancement into the semi-finals.
He looked up to see if I bought it. Then he read the Oh-come-on expression on my face. We both started to laugh.
“Listen,” I said, “If you call me tomorrow, I’ll try to set you up with an angora pull over.”
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