Breasts

 

Warning:  This page contains discussions which are of an "Adult" nature.  And by “Adult,” I mean “Middle-school.”  Most things labeled “Adult” are not really very adult.  For instance:  Man’s inhumanity to man is “Adult,” but you don’t see warnings for that.  What I’m trying to say is that the following story will discuss the female form in a silly/sexual manner.  If this sort of thing offends you, or if you would prefer to keep thinking of Jake as a fine young man who is above such base thoughts, then please visit some other area of the web.  

 

You have been warned.

 

 

Everyone knows that the reason Jake joined a theater company was to meet exciting young women and date them.  Well, that’s what everybody seems to think anyway.  Turns out that all the women involved in the production of “Absurd Person Singular” (APS) are happily dating/engaged.  Holy socks!  It’s a good thing that I’m also interested in  theater for non-meat-market reasons and, I must say, these past 5 weeks have been much more fun than watching re-runs of “JAG.”  Wait, that sounded bad.  I meant to say that I’ve enjoyed my first tentative steps into the world of theatre. 

 

And the breasts.

 

“Breasts, you say?”  Yep, breasts.  I’ll say it again:  Breasts.  They’re an attention grabber, aren’t they?  So how is it that I’ve managed to see the cast of APS topless?  Well, you have to understand that the “Wing and Groove” theatre has only one dressing room and it’s not real big.  There’s nowhere else to hang-out during the show so I usually read in the dressing room.  Read!  How can I have time?  Most modern shows have lots and lots of scenes, but APS is not a modern show (at least not in style).  There’s three acts and each act is a scene.  I set the stage beforehand, change stuff between act one and two, and that’s about it.  Except for changing the clocks.  Which, while very, very important (so important that the Reader mentioned it in their review of APS), doesn’t take all that long.  So I read.  Quite a bit actually.  But back to the breasts.

 

Or as Kara likes to say:  “Boobies.”  Sometimes, after confessing her love for the word, she may be found repeating it as much as five or ten times.  Which, to a red-blooded American male, is a rather unnerving experience.  My thoughts:  “There’s a sexy girl, mere meters away from me, mentioning her breasts!  I should DO something about this!  But…  What?”

 

And that’s how it started.  The ladies in the show are a bit, er, free with their language.  Autumn is a tall, slim, blonde who is rather uninhibited and yet she plays this totally wound-up housewife who blushes when her husband gives her a kiss.  Such a transformation takes its toll.  Now it is a common convention for actors to mess with the lines they’re given, but Autumn takes this bit of fun to new, and exciting, levels.  In one scene, her character refers to a dog as “Huge, like a donkey, Huge.”  Autumn decided to put a little “spin” on the lines while backstage.  Picture a mild-mannered Jake looking up from his book to see Autumn (fully clothed) clutching her crotch with her left hand while using the open palm of her right to massage her breast and moaning: “Huuuge, like a Don-key, Huuuge.”  Now throw in some hip gyrations, sexual gasps, and you’ve got the picture. 

 

What is the proper protocol for such a situation?  Do you A) Bury your head in a book, or B) Look at her, as she is talking, but maintain eye contact, or C) stare wantonly as she kneads her naughty bits?  It’s a bit of a problem.  I ended up deciding it would not be polite NOT to look at someone who’s talking to you.  It’s how I was raised.  About this time, in the run of the show, I started seeing naked breasts.

 

Once again, Kara led the way.  The ladies of the play would usually do this cool trick where they would take off their bra underneath their shirt and then apply the replacement bra under cover of shirt material.  Enticing, yes, but no actual nudity.  At some point, the women began to feel more, well, free with their bodies.  I didn’t notice until, while talking with John, I looked over at Kara and noticed her taking off her bra -- With Absolutely No Shirt Barrier! 

 

This is a situation where a young man’s sexual fight or response kicks in:  “She’s nekkid!  Quick, you fool, ACT!”  Then followed by: “No wait, its casual, it’s casual…  stop staring.  Stop Staring!”

 

I eventually resumed the conversation, with, uhm, what’s-his-name.  I thought: "We’re all adults here and I don’t want to creep her out, so I’ll pretend not to notice."  But then Autumn started doing it too!

 

And they began talking whilst topless!  Now what?  She’s talking to you, or at least everybody in the room, and so you’re supposed to look.  Right?  And if she minded you looking, she’d cover herself up.  Right?  So how much eye-contact do I have to make?  I don’t want to start addressing questions to her breasts, or follow their every bounce with my nodding head but, other than that, Where’s The Line of Indecent Behavior?  At what point will they start slapping me? 

 

If that question caused much internal conflict for Jake, then the next was a bit more of a puzzler:  What do you do when the topic of the conversation is…

 

The breasts themselves?

 

Aye, now there’s the rub.  What do you do when Kara and Autumn start discussing their breasts?  “I think mine are aging quite nicely.”  “Oh mine aren’t, their gonna get caught in my belt someday.”  And I’m thinking.  “I have to look now, right?  If someone where discussing, say, a passing armadillo, you’d have to look at the aforementioned armadillo.  Wouldn’t you?”

 

As I struggled with armadillo analogies, the conversation continued: “Oh they look fine.  Gooorgeous, really”  “No they don’t, they used to look like this.”  At this point, Kara took her index finger and pulled up on the skin above her right breast; raising it up an inch or so.  The effect was spectacular.  With her other hand she motioned to the underside, as if to show the more flattering curve produced.  Life had become slow-motion.  A real, live, non-girlfriend female was asking me to notice features of her breast. 

 

 

Huh. 

 

They probably said more as they found their bras and covered themselves up, but it didn’t register.  That last bit of self fondling was replaying itself in my mind.  I was a bit disconnected for awhile, but eventually I recovered my composure.  Then Alison performed her nipple kissing trick.  “Really,”  she quipped “I don’t know what I’m doing with this theatre crap.  I should be in porn.”