Thou Shalt Not(44)

People assume that most “boob guys” like them big, the bigger the better. But, I think as a breast guy myself, that breasts are pretty spectacular no matter the size, and that they can be beautiful as A’s or as D’s or anywhere in between. Being a boob guy shouldn’t ever mean you only like big. It should mean you appreciate them in just about every size, and should never make a woman feel inferior because hers aren’t big enough. Gianna didn’t ever have to worry about being too small, but if I was hooked up to a lie detector, I’d only pass the test if I honestly said hers just seemed too big, and therefore were really not that appealing.

I was thinking about breasts when April walked into the restaurant at 6:35. Her hair was down and straight, and she had changed into a black dress that made every thought I was having in my head start swimming around, bumping into other thoughts like blind people fumbling through a corn maze. Her dress made Gianna’s look frumpy and unappealing.

I stood up, completely involuntarily as she waited at the hostess stationed, then saw me and pointed in my direction. Gianna turned and made a disgusted face and gestured toward my table. She didn’t walk April to me, but stood back sizing her up. It was obvious April was in a league of her own, and Gianna disappointedly turned back to her station.

“Hi,” she said as I hugged her. Her body was perfect and lean and her small breasts nestled into my chest. I didn’t want to let her go. I also had a serious urge to grab her ass, but I refrained. Gianna had sneaked a peek back and was once again upset by what she saw.

“Sorry, I’m late,” she said as she sat down. “I was playing with my kids when I got home and lost track of time.”

“Oh, it’s fine,” I said, still trying and failing to form complete sentences in my head.

Just breathe, Luke. You’ve talked to her a million times.

I took a few sips (gulps) of water, and my brain thankfully cleared.

“Was it just me, or was the hostess kind of a giant bitch?” she asked as she picked up her menu. “Not to mention the fact that her boobs should have their own congressional representative.”

“She was actually really friendly with me,” I said.

“Well, of course. You’re a good looking man.”

I grinned.

“And since I am sitting with you, she probably wants to kill me. I bet she has already thought of at least ten things she could do to me to ruin my night, including pay our server to spill my food on me.”

“I had no idea women were so vengeful,” I lied. I work in a high school. I see what girls do and say to each other all the time.

“It’s true. We can be pretty rotten bitches.”

Terry the misplaced waitress returned and took our orders. April made her decision (Butternut Squash Tortellini) more quickly than any other woman I had ever gone to dinner with. She seemed to be a very decisive person. I liked that. I settled on the Spicy Penne Vodka with Shrimp.

“Did you bring me a copy of Dubliners?” I asked as Terry returned with our bread and olive oil dipping sauce.

“No,” she replied. “I got it out and set it on the counter, but I left it, like an idiot.”

“Guess you don’t want me to read it as much as you pretend you do.”

“Oh stop. I am a mother. We get distracted and forget things from time to time.”

“I suppose I will forgive you. Even though I was really looking forward to reading it.”

I heavily, and very sarcastically, emphasized the word “really” and she smiled, while rolling her eyes.

“Well, it’s still sitting there. So, after dinner we will go get it. Then you can start reading it, seeing how excited you must be to actually read something worthwhile for a change.”

Her mouth curled up into a sexy smile and her eyes actually seemed to sparkle.

“In that case, I’ll have to put my Curious George collection away for a while.”

“The man in the yellow hat will approve, I assure you.”

April called over the waitress and ordered a glass of wine, reminding me that you couldn’t have a decent Italian meal without red wine. I began to immediately hope she was a lightweight.

“So, tell me about yourself, Mr. Harper,” she said, pushing the hair that had fallen near her right eye aside. “I have heard bits and pieces from people around the school.”

“Oh god, what have they told you?” I asked. I hoped no one had told her about my previous marriage. Not that I was ashamed or embarrassed. I just had no desire to bring it up.

“Well, I hear you were holding out on me about actually being a baseball star, and not just some average player.”