On girls with small boobs and brave cleavage
I saw a girl on the bus last Friday. I actually saw many women of many ages, but I only had eyes for this one.
She was pretty, in the way only non-teenagers can be. You see, a teenager mind believes that he or she can increase her physical atractiveness by adding an ever increasing amount of things. It's always about adding more makeup, having more accesories, more clothes (and sometimes, paradoxically, showing more skin).
Not her. She had exactly the right amount of clothes to be considered formal, without being too formal. She had a pale blouse, light and airy, with great contrast to her auburn hair. Nice shoes, nice earrings.
But what captivated me was her cleavage, which was open to the middle of her sternum. It was precisely the kind of blouse that big breasted woman would use to attract stares in adult films.
But she lacked that size. Sure, she had noticeable breasts, but definitely on the small size, nothing too spectacular. Not to high, not too low, not too wide, not too perky. Just normal.
But the blouse was cut perfectly for her. A well-endowed woman would have a noticeable gap between the rim of the blouse and her skin. A latex suit is stretched so that this gap is tightly sealed because of the size and elastic properties of the material. This blouse was neither of those, it just rest comfortably on a frame just milimeters smaller.
That's also why the cleavage looked interesting, not as sexually vulgar as it would have been with bigger boobs and not as unflattering as an excessive cut on a completely flat chest. It showed proportionally a lot of skin, but it kept everything in its place. It could attract a stray eyeball like it did with mine, it teased but you really couldn't look at anything forbidden. It was perfect.
She distracted me from my book, I must admit. It was irresistible, I know it's not okay to stare at women, much less random strangers on a bus. She caught me looking and I went back to my high school days when my crush first laid her eyes on me so I could be her lab partner.
My breakfast disappeared and left a vacuum in my stomach. My brain interpreted it as an emergency signal and quickly reassigned blood to the most vital parts of the body: the torso and my cheeks. The sudden pressure change confused my respiratory system and for a few seconds my trachea wasn't sure of where should it send the last gasp of air I had inhaled. In a fit of desperation, a small balloon worth of air went to my stomach like a punch and was quickly rejected with an instinctive movement in my diaphragm. This started a chain reaction of organs moving violently, ending in my coughing at the same time I tried to reach for air.
I don't believe she liked me after that, but to add insult to injury, she smiled at me before sitting down and burying her nose in a huge book.