I continue sharing stories from my first book, “Lunch Hour” In some cases, they may be stories I have shared before or they may be earlier or different versions of the stories published in the book. Either way, I hope that you enjoy them and I hope that you’ll take a look at this book and my other books still available for purchase online at Amazon.com
So, just a warning. This story contains language of a sexual nature. Nothing really graphic, but mature.
“They’re perfect,” he said. His head lay just below her shoulder, his graying ponytail lying withered on her perfect, white skin.
“What?” she said a little miffed. She was in that delicious state that she loved so much, totally relaxed and near unconsciousness. It happened to her every time she made love and it was as close to perfect as she ever came. Sex also helped relieve her frequent migraine headaches. She loved that dreamy existence; not like the feeling Zomig gave her when she took it for a migraine. Zomig made her feel like she was trapped in a dream where she couldn’t wake up. It lessened the pain of the headaches but left her zoned. It should have been called Zomb-mig. “What are you talking about? She hated being wrenched from her bliss.
“Your breasts!” he said, teasing one of the nipples with the tip of his pinky. It stood at attention almost immediately. “They’re perfect!” They hadn’t known each other for very long, about six weeks. He asked her to marry him almost right away. He couldn’t believe his good fortune, this beautiful woman, willing to talk to him, go out with him, jump into bed with him. He kept waiting for the other shoe to fall. She was so beautiful, she made him nervous and when he was nervous, he said stupid things like “Your breasts are perfect.”
Still they had a lot in common. They were the same age, both widowed with kids and both fairly independent. He could see how marriage could work out between them. They both had good jobs; the kids were mostly grown and they held their extended families at arm’s length. If he could just be sure that she really did like him and didn’t have some ulterior motive for sleeping with him.
“Nice of you to notice. How long have we been together?” She was fully awake now and not happy about it.
“No. I mean it.” He worried both nipples plump again and closed one eye, lining them up the way he sighted a target when bow hunting. They were the exact same height. They stayed erect for exactly the same amount of time and then lost their color and flattened out just a bit. He did it again.
“Stop that!” she growled. “What is it with men and boobs? Are you kindred spirits?”
“Haven’t you ever noticed? I mean, haven’t you ever looked at yourself and thought, “These are pretty nice.”
“I’m not that self absorbed,” she said. He breathed on them and watched them turn slightly pink. He wanted to see if they would develop goose bumps.
“It’s the first thing I noticed about you.”
“I beg your pardon.” Now she was awake and insulted. Her hair was obviously her best feature.
“I mean….you know…I tried not to stare, but they’re such a part of you. They’re the reason I got to know you, because I was trying so hard not to look at them I had to talk to you to keep my mind off of them. The first time I saw them up close, you know, like this, I thought I was going to….I don’t know.”
“Men are so stupid.” she sighed. This was something she had known for a long time. It was one of those sisterhood truths, like the Ten Commandments. “And Shelia came down from the mountain with the tablets and said She has commanded as such: Men are so stupid; Men will do anything for sex; Men are like unto dogs; Men know nothing of love.”, etc.
Still, she liked having him around. He really would do anything she asked, although she would never take advantage of him in that way. She was using him for sex, kind of, but you never tell a man that. Then they take their show on the road and try to hump a bigger audience. He was all those things a woman wants in a man. He had a job, a good job and a steady job and he left her pretty much alone. After some of the choices she had made with regard to men, she felt good about this guy. He was sweet and gracious and pathetically eager and he really was a pretty good headache reliever.
“They’re not mine, you know,” she confessed.
“What?” He was still somewhere in dreamland contemplating a world of perfect breasts.
“I mean…they’re mine. I paid for them. I own them.” Logic pulled him back from his fantasy. What was he hearing?
“They’re fake?” He couldn’t believe it. “I can’t tell. I mean, how do you know? How can you tell?”
“There’s a little scar under each one.” He lifted the one nearest to him with the back of his index finger and inspected it. There was a tiny seam. How could he have missed it? He thought he had been over every inch of her and had found no imperfections anywhere. She was smooth and seamless and …..perfect.
“Oh,” he said, trying not to act disappointed. “I see. Does it hurt? I mean, did it hurt?”
“Not really. Just a little sore for a week or two, after.”
“Why did you?….I mean, why would you want to?…”
“I just wanted to be bigger. I was small all my life. I had no shape. I actually want to get bigger ones.”
He contemplated this. These were perfect, or at least as perfect as he’d ever seen, until a minute ago. A bigger pair would make her more noticeable. Other men would start to come around. What if she used the big ones to find somebody better?
Worse still, what if something went wrong? What if they got the symmetry screwed up? These were exactly the same size and shape and color. The nipples were exactly the same height. He didn’t think he’d ever seen that before on a woman. They were so life-like. What if that changed?
“You sure you want to do that?” he asked, “I mean, these are pretty awesome.” He felt stupid using the word awesome to describe her as if she were some bar maid.
“Well, yeah. I think I would look better. Don’t you?” Was this a trick question? How should he answer? How could he put the best face on this?
“I don’t know.” He whined a bit. “I’m kind of used to these. I think you look good the way you are. Besides, at your age…” His mind started screaming at him. “Red alert! Red alert! Incorrect choice of words. Begin formulating excuse immediately!”
“What about my age?” She sat up, dumping his head into a heap on the pillow.
“I just meant surgery is always risky…”(ABORT! ABORT! ABORT!) “I just don’t want to see anything go wrong.”
“Please. It’s an outpatient procedure. They do it all the time. It’s really my decision anyway.” He sat up next to her. She pulled the sheet up to cover herself. He caught a glimpse of them as she tucked them away. They seemed to be waving goodbye.
“I just think that they’re perfect the way they are.” He heard himself whimper a little bit. “There’s no need to tamper with perfection. I guess I’m just being selfish.”
This must be the other shoe he had been worried about for the past few weeks, except it was his shoe and he had thrown it.
“All men are selfish.” was her response.
This was another of the ten commandments of women. No matter that women did everything they could to keep themselves attractive, men were never satisfied. Oooh! That was another commandment.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know what I’m saying. Your breasts have me confused.”
OK. Now it was just like words were spilling out of his mouth without any direction whatsoever. How could he fix this? If he stopped talking, he couldn’t do any more damage, but if he shut up, he couldn’t explain himself. What if he was honest? No. That was never a good idea.
“I’ll give you that,” she said, “Most men don’t have the sense God gave my left boob, and it’s artificial. He sat silent. “I’ve got to get some sleep.” she sighed. “Hand me a Zomig out of the nightstand would you?” She turned off the light, briefly touched her left breast and thought “Perfect”.
Copyright 2012 by Jose Antonio Ponce