It was a beautiful day and I decided I'd kill two birds with one stone, so to speak. I had washing to hang out and I'd make sure I caught a little sun while I did it. I slipped on my bikini and got to work.
The first thing I did was turn on a noise-maker. I wanted music and so I got music. Then I grabbed the basket full of laundry and danced out to hang it up. And I meant danced. The music was good, the day was fine, I was young and feeling energetic, so why not dance? Not that my partner was much help. The basket just lay in my arms like a lump. Pretty much the same way most men dance, I guess.
I dumped the basket on the ground and started hanging things up. I shimmied and shook as I worked, shaking my hips and moving to the beat. I reached out to grab something from the basket with my toes, decided not to when I saw I had green feet, courtesy of new-mown grass, and swivelled, instead. Standing on one leg, the other straight out behind me, I just bent at a ninety degree angle, back in a straight line with my outstretched leg. I fished something from the basket and hung it up, trying to keep a perfectly posed posture while I did it.
I was dancing from the basket to the line and back, bouncing on my toes as I went. At one stage I saw that my breasts had a tendency to keep on bouncing even after I stood still. I giggled and did a few rapid jogs on the spot, watching them bounce.
"I don't know what's more fun," a voice said. "Watching you bend over and seeing your breasts threaten to burst free or watching you stand upright, making them bounce."
I gave a little squeak, swinging around to see who was there. It was Jeff, a neighbour, now watching with interest as my breasts wobbled from side to side, a side effect of me spinning around so fast.
"Oh. You gave me a shock. What are you doing here?"
"Um, do you mean why did I come, or what am I doing now that I'm here?"
"Ah, either. Both I guess." I was puzzled. Weren't they one and the same thing?
"Well, the reason I came was to collect my lawn-mower. I saw Jorge had finished your lawns so I thought I'd better get on with mine. What I'm actually doing, now that I'm here, is watching the dance of the bouncing boobs, and a fascinating little dance it is."
I blushed, but there was no way I was touching that comment.
"Oh, right, the lawn-mower. Jorge has finished, thank you very much. It's over there." I pointed to where Jorge had parked it after completing the lawns. Strictly speaking he should have returned it instead of Jeff having to fetch it.
"Yeah, thanks. Tell me, is the top support or decoration?"
"Excuse me?" What the hell was he talking about?
"The top," he said, tapping his chest. "Do you actually require it to support those puppies or is it there as a bit of decoration as society mores dictate that a bare chest is something horrendous."
Horrendous? Nothing about my breasts was horrendous. I gave him a nasty look.
"I wear the top because it's part of the bikini," I said, trying my best not to snarl at him. "It's de rigueur for a lady to wear one and you know it."
"So not hiding anything horrendous," he said, and he was laughing at me. "In that case, since there's only the two of us, there's nothing to stop you taking it off so I can enjoy watching your breasts bounce naturally."
"Nothing but my natural modesty," I told him sweetly. Take off my top, indeed. Did he think I was born yesterday?
"Um, no, that's not stopping you," he told me. "You don't have any natural modesty."
"What?" Was he accusing me of being a tart?
"All modesty is trained into women. They are told modesty is shown by hiding your loveliest features. Ridiculous really. If left to grow naturally women would be quite willing to display their breasts, knowing that they're attracting male attention."
"You're kidding," I said. I could hear the tone of flat disbelief in my voice.
"That depends," he said, sounding thoughtful. "If it persuades you to take your top off so I can enjoy some natural bounce then I'm not kidding. If it doesn't, then I am."
"Not going to happen," I said smiling. "Nice try though."
"So how do I get you to take it off? Can I appeal to your sense of pity? There's nothing more pitiful than a man begging a girl to show him some boob."
"You can't. I'm married, remember. So are you for that matter. Where's Kate today?"
"Visiting with her mother. You know how I get along with my mother-in-law. Like a house on fire. All that yelling and screaming and the fire and smoke. One of us always winds up getting burnt."
"Perhaps if you were nicer to her?" I suggested.
"The old harridan doesn't want someone being nice to her. She wants someone she can walk over and wipe her feet on. That's not quite me."
