Breasts…. we have them… we buy them….. we hate them…. we envy them….. we flash them….  There’s a lot of emotion when it comes to breasts. The worst is when they take over.  They’re not just two rolling hills of flesh and fat, oh no, there is a little brain in each one. A brain that sometimes can be rebellious and make the girls just BUST OUT of their little fabric-button-secured homes when they’re grounded. Otherwise, we wouldn’t put them in a fabric/button jail… we would free them and flaunt them. Those little devils!! My fellow blogger friend of Dating Experiences of a Woman in Hollywood  recently had a motorcycle adventure with a hottie, and the girls came along….uninvited!! Let’s read about her breasts together, shall we?

Whenever Julian works out at the Hollywood YMCA, every guy at the gym turns to look at him because he has perfectly shaped, muscular arms. He’s probably in his late 30s, has thick dark hair, baby blue eyes, a straight nose and full lips. I’ve often sat on the leg machine and lost count of my reps, watching Julian pump iron, fantasizing about dating a man with arms like his and what it would feel like to have them wrapped around me.

One day after spin class, I was in the weight room, when Julian approached and offered to show me the proper way to do tricep curls.  “If people knew the proper way of lifting weights, they would be in much better shape,” he said. “See this muscle line here in your arm…” His voice trailed off.  I had no idea what he was saying after I stood up and noticed how handsome he is.  His eyelashes are unfairly long, his olive skin is flawless and just the slightest bit of hair was visible on his hard chest, beneath his v-neck t-shirt. 

“You’re not interested at all in what I’m saying, are you?” he laughed.  I snapped back to attention.  “I’m sorry.  My mind traveled somewhere else for a second.”   “I used to live around the corner from you,” he said.  “About ten years ago.  I remember you because you rode a motorcycle.”  “I sold that bike after I wiped out in Laurel Canyon,” I told him.  “I haven’t been on one since.  “I have my Harley parked out front,” Julian said. “Do you want to go for a ride and get a coffee?”  He was asking me out?! “Ok, let me take a shower and I’ll meet you in 15 minutes.”

After I finished showering, I slid on my jeans, pulled on my sleeveless, cotton shirt that buttoned up the front, and hoped it wasn’t too obvious I wasn’t wearing a bra.  When I met Julian out front, he handed me the keys to his bike.  “Why don’t you drive?” he said.  I had not been on a bike since my spill and didn’t want to any chances wrecking his pristine Harley.  “Don’t worry, I’ll totally help you.”  He handed me a helmet and I took the keys, tucked in my shirt and climbed on. Julian eased in behind me.  I anticipated his arms wrapping around me, but he just placed his hands on my hips.  I started up the engine, took a deep breath and pulled away from the curb.

It was 75 degrees outside, sunny and I was making every green light.  The hair that spilled out from under the helmet whipped around in the wind and my clothes flapped against my skin.  As we continued along, I noticed the pedestrians on the street turning their heads and pointing at us.  I leaned back and shouted to Julian, “Why is everyone pointing?” I asked.  “Because it’s a chick on a bike,” he said.  I have seen plenty of women riding bikes and never saw heads turning and fingers pointing like they did that day.  But I ignored it.  I was too happy! I had finally gotten over my fear of riding again, thanks to Julian.  I made it through three more green lights before hitting a stop sign and downshifting.  I put my feet on the ground and turned back toward Julian, “I’m so glad we did this!”  But Julian said nothing.  His face was bright red, his mouth agape, and he was staring at my chest.  “What’s the matter?” I asked, glancing down, following his line of sight.  My shirt had blown wide open and I had just driven down Franklin Avenue for approximately three miles on a motorcycle with my breasts completely exposed!!!!

I haven’t seen Julian since that day.

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