Tit for Tat

Written By: Lenny Falcone

Her breasts preceded her. Not metaphorically, or by reputation, but actually. She walked through the door, and they entered the room a full second before the rest of her did. They were large and full and round. Their skin, her skin, was flawless, unblemished, alabaster. She dressed in a style seen often on MTV, but seldom on everyday women of the ’80’s, even in West Hampton: a bustier top, demi-cups, of course, and high-waisted, diaphanous harem pants. Her outfit left her mid-drift bare just above the navel and her bosom bare to just above her n…. Her stilettos arched her back, thrusting her chest out further still. Everyone noticed, even the women. Maybe especially the women.

“Look at her,” Lucy said to us disapprovingly.

I pursed my lips, then said “no” shaking my head briskly.”That’s just what she wants. Not me.”

“Well I can’t NOT look,” Rich said. “Me too,” Lou added.

“Is that a shirt or a serving tray?” I asked. “It looks like she has her boobs on a platter.”

“It’s a push-up,” Lucy corrected.

“I know.”

I wasn’t actually offended: I’m not a prude. And I’m not gonna’ say I wasn’t attracted: I’m a red-blooded American man, and I was only 27 then. But I just wasn’t interested. My kind of gal wouldn’t dress like that. Not outside the bedroom. There was no point in me going over to chat with her. We could never have a relationship. And I didn’t want to give her the gratification of being ogled. Not by me. So I simply refused to look at her.

The other guys didn’t feel the same. She had no shortage of suitors, oglers, admirers and supplicants. And the women didn’t follow my lead either. They couldn’t take their eyes off of her, often punctuating their stares with an eye roll or head shake.

The night wore on, cocktails and crudités was had, and I found myself next to her. SHE introduced herself to ME! I stared directly into her eyes and said hello back. We made small talk that I don’t even remember, with my gaze deliberately, forcibly fixed on her brown eyes.

“I wish everyone could be a grown-up, like you,” she said.

“I don’t follow,” I responded.

“I mean, get over it already. They’re breasts. They’re a part of nature. Stop staring!”

“Really?” I thought. That bit of BS from an obvious exhibitionist really irritated me. Then I got an idea…

“Oh, I know,” I said. “It makes me crazy when that happens to me. Enough already.”

“Excuse me?” She said quizzically.

“When you came in, did I look familiar to you?” I watched her kinda’ peer at me. “Ok. I get this whenever I’m Out East. You have all these people from Manhattan that watch Channel J on cable. “Midnight Blue” and stuff like that. I did some films years ago to pay for school. You know, ‘naturals’. And these people recognize me, and I catch them staring down there and then whispering to each other or giggling and it’s just a drag. Like, there’s nothing to see: I’M fully dressed!”

I paused. Then I pointed at my face with both hands.

“Sometimes I think ‘really, can’t you just look at my face when you’re talking to me!?’ You know what I’m saying, right?”

At this, she stepped back away from me. She seemed surprised and confused. Her eyes widened, but she seemed not to know where to direct them. And when she went to speak, she instead simply exhaled, audibly. Then she just walked away.

Lou came over

“What the F’ was that?” He asked.

“What?”

“What did you say to her? Her face got so red. Even her chest turned red!”

“I told her I liked her blouse.”

Oh, I’ve never appeared in a film, natural or otherwise. I’ve never even thought to audition.